“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“No, you’re one hundred per cent right,” he says in a hushed tone, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip before baring his teeth and showing the animal within.“Shedoesdeserve to fucking live,” he roars. “That’s why I’m doing everything I can to ensure she stays living! You may deal in the law, but that’s fucking child’s play compared to the law of the underworld, ruled by spilled blood and handshakes. My only wish is to save her from it.”
“Well you have a funny fucking way of showing it. Of all the things you could do, standing by and letting this deal for an arranged marriage to a fucking monster happen is not it!” I say through gritted teeth.
A stifled squeak from behind me puts an end to our standoff.
We all snap our heads to where the sound came from.
The strip lighting casts a soft glow on her face. Deathly white, like fear and worry have robbed her of color. Her long lashes glisten, and her green eyes shine. Whether it’s from tears or boiling hot rage, I can’t be sure.
“What. The. Hell. Is. He. Talking. About?” she enunciates, slow and low, fear morphing into fury, though I don’t miss the slight tremble of her hands, one holding her tote, the other pushing her hair behind her ear.
The silence is deafening, her frame tiny in the expansiveness of AJ’s spacious penthouse, and yet Chiara’s demand fills the void to the point of suffocating.
“Someone better start fucking talking before I start shooting.”
With that, she dips her free hand into her Chanel tote and produces a small silver pistol.
I underestimated her backbone. Her Mafia blood runs deep, and pride blooms in my chest. This is swiftly followed by the reminder I need to serve and protect her, but under no circumstances can I fall for her.
Consider me royally fucked.
Chapter Eighteen
Family Curse
Chiara
“Chi, put the fucking gun away,”AJ commands, like he’s speaking to a petulant child. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to play with big boys’ toys?”
I love my cousin, but he can be a prick sometimes. I suppose you don’t get to his status in the family business without having a good percentage of ruthless running riot in your veins.
It rings true. I also understand his frustration and feel the tiniest bit bad for deceiving him. After all, he helped convince my uncle to let me come to New York for a “holiday,” and he forgave me for hoodwinking him about where I’m staying. But I’ve pushed the needle one percent too far by blindsiding him with the revelation of accepting a job that will require me to travel and make New York my permanent base, and then by having my romantic liaisons splashed across the internet. Even if nothing happened—well, not the way he thinks.
“You’re aware that your dad taught me how to shoot the minute after I buried my parents. Aloose endneeds to know how to protect herself,” I snip, holding the gun steady.
He grunts in exasperation, rubbing at his bruising jaw. It looks fresh.Did Raf punch him?“Please. I’ve had more than my fair share of dramatics for one morning, no thanks to your lover boy.”
“He’s not my lover boy.”
“Oh yes. I stand corrected. You like older men. Let’s go with Law Daddy then.” His knowing stare feels like I have bleach slowly eating away on my skin. I flush a fitting shade of pink.
While my uncle knows the facts, AJ knows—has seen footage of—all the intimate details of what happened between me and Alessandro. Until AJ made me aware, I didn’t know these explicit videos of private moments existed. Another betrayal I was too blinded by lust at the time to notice. He won’t tell me who sent it or why, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s some form of blackmail to inform one more underhanded deal, a golden handshake that results in the death of a former agreement, sealing the fate on a new one or, in many cases, simply resulting in death.
If I’ve been spared these last few years, it’s because of some deal AJ has done to protect me. I know it.
I’m so caught up in my intense stare-off with AJ, I almost forget we have an audience, until Raf’s gravelly voice pierces the tense air.
“Your parents died?”
“They were killed in cold blood.”
I don’t miss the way his sharp Adam’s apple bobs like he’s swallowing a lot more than his fucking pride—probably his razor-sharp words too.
“Please spare me your pity,” I say. I’m not letting him off the hook for the antics he pulled in the office, even as badly as I want him. Want the comfort of his arms and touch. He gives me the grace to indulge in the rage that has utterly and completely flipped my switch.
“AJ, who the fuck have you arranged to sell me off to?” I demand, keeping my gun pointed at him.
