Page 75 of The New Godfather

“I like it in principle. Let’s meet.”

Chapter Seventy

VIOLA

The address the kidnapper gave me leads to a small boutique in a quiet side street in the West Village, the kind of place I might have wandered into on any other day without a second thought. Tucked between a quiet café and a vintage bookstore, it is just the sort of discreet little shop where a woman might slip in for a quick browse on a cold morning. My hands are still shaking slightly as I push open the door, the bell above it giving a soft, innocent chime. The air inside smells faintly of lavender and new wool, warm and inviting. I tell myself this will be over fast. Five thousand dollars. A quick exchange. Then I can get back to the penthouse, back to figuring out the mess with Ricci, back to breathing again.

I step deeper into the store, the wooden floor creaking softly under my sneakers. A few racks of clothing line the narrow space, coats and dresses hanging in neat rows. It’s very dimly lit and of course, empty. There’s no one behind the counter. The silence feels a little too complete, but I push the thought away. I’m just jumpy. Everything feels suspicious right now.

I don’t even see it coming.

A hand clamps over my mouth from behind, strong and sudden, cutting off my gasp. Another arm snakes around my waist, yanking me backward with brutal efficiency. My heart explodes in my chest as I’m dragged through a curtain at the back of the store, my feet scrambling uselessly against the floor. The scent of lavender disappears, replaced by the sharper smell of dust and stale air. I try to twist, to fight, but the grip is iron. I’m shoved into a small back room. Storage, maybe, or an office. I am too shocked to even scream. Hard hands push me down hard into a wooden chair, and rough rope bites into my wrists as someone yanks my arms behind the chair back and ties them tight. The rough, unforgiving fibers dig into my skin, rough and unforgiving.

My pulse is hammering so loud I can hear it in my ears.

Then he steps into the light.

Mario.

My stepson.

Shock slams into me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. I stare at him, wide-eyed, my mouth opening and closing without sound. He looks the same as always — sharp features, dark hair, and that arrogant, self-satisfied smirk he used to wear when his father was not around. But now there’s something darker in his eyes, something triumphant and vicious. I’m so confused my thoughts scatter like startled birds. Mario? Here? Why?

He leans against the edge of a metal desk, arms crossed, watching me struggle against the ropes for a moment before he speaks.

“You must have heard the rumors by now,” he says, voice smooth and almost conversational. “They’re spreading fast. Everyone knows now that Ricci killed my father. I’ve always known the fucking bastard did it. And now he is going to pay with everything that he is and everything that he has. Starting with you, dearest stepmother.”

The words hit me one by one, each one landing heavier than the last and suddenly it all starts to make sense. The puppy. The ridiculously low ransom. It was never about the money. It was bait. He designed it to make me think it was something small and manageable, something I could handle alone without involving Ricci or the bodyguards. I would never have fallen for it, if my guards had been down. I had been distracted, reeling from the FBI, reeling from Ricci’s betrayal. I stopped thinking and acted emotionally. And Mario had used that. He doesn’t need to kidnap a freaking puppy. He doesn’t care about the five thousand dollars.

Oh my God.

I am in immense fucking trouble!

Terror floods through me, icy and sharp, like someone just injected freezing water straight into my veins. But I try not to show it. If I start using my brain again, maybe I can save myself. I know him. I know how he thinks. I stay very still in the chair, back straight, chin slightly lifted, breathing slowly and deliberately through my nose even though every inhale feels like I’m snorting glass.

It is very clear to me now that he is going to use me to hurt Ricci.

Fuck.

The rope bites deeper into my wrists with the smallest shift of my arms, rough fibers scraping raw skin, but I don’t flinch. I don’t let my eyes widen. I don’t let my lips tremble.

Because if Ricci gets tangled in this mess I’ve fallen into. If he walks through that door because of me… there’s no doubt he will lose his life.

And right now, nothing scares me more than that. Not the rope. Not the abuse I can already feel coming. Not even my own life. That knowledge settles deep in my chest, devastating and unshakeable in the middle of my worst nightmare: I love him that much. Absolutely nothing matters more than keeping him safe. Not my fear. Not my confusion. Not the ugly truth the FBI tried to shove down my throat earlier tonight. Just him. Alive and breathing.

Mario’s smirk widens with satisfaction, like he can read every frantic thought crossing my face. He steps closer, his shoes scraping softly against the bare floor. The air between us fills with the strong scent of his cologne. He always used to drench himself in the stuff. Now it turns my stomach. His shadow falls over me, blocking the weak overhead light, and I force myself to keep my gaze steady on his.

“So,” he says softly, almost gently, the word sliding out like a secret. Then he leans in just enough that I can see the cold triumph in his eyes. “How does it feel knowing that you will be the one to orchestrate your husband’s death? Again.”

I don’t respond. I will not give him the satisfaction.

This amuses him greatly. “Alright then, since you’re not interested in talking, then talk I will. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to call Ricci. Tell him you came to pick up the puppy from Rebecca because she had an emergency and took the dog with her, but now you’re a little scared to go home alone. Tell him to come and get you. Tell him nothing else. Then the moment he walks through that door, we’ll greet him with a bullet straight through his head. He should be grateful that I’m giving him such a painless death after what he did to my father.”

He stops and takes a deep breath.

“And here’s the good news. If you play your part well, I’ll let you and your puppy go completely unharmed. Otherwise, it’s a bullet straight through the puppy’s heart and yours, and we’ll get that bastard too. Slightly messier, but the outcome will be the same. He will die tonight.”

My throat closes at his words. I need to buy time, to make him doubt, and keep Ricci far away from this trap.