Page 47 of King of War

“Good.” I eye him warily and take a sip of my drink, enjoying the smooth woody flavor as it warms my mouth and then my throat. “Are you any closer to finding the video?” And getting me the hell out of here? Wisely, I keep the latter to myself.

“No. It wasn’t at his club. Wasn’t at Joseph’s or Oscar’s house.” He stares into space, like he’s thinking about something. “Are you sure it exists, and it wasn’t just some ploy to get you back here?”

“I told you, Joseph Bertelli described it to me in great detail. Nobody else knows what was on that video apart from the two people in that room.”

“Perhaps Tommy told him?” he offers.

“Impossible.”

He snorts. “You still think he was that good of a guy?”

Tommy was one of the best men. He hated the life he was born into, and he did everything he could to escape it. There was a time I honestly thought he’d convince Enzo to leave it all behind too. But Enzo was always too loyal to his family, whereas Tommy was like me—no family to speak of, except for his brother, obviously. And the less said about him right now the better. So, yes, Tommy would never betray me like that, but that’s not the reason he couldn’t have told anyone what was on that video. It’s because he wasn’t even there. Someone in Enzo’s own inner circle set him up, and at least one of his brothers was in on it, so how the hell do I tell him that? There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell he’d believe me.

So I stay quiet. Small. Invisible—the way all good little girls should be.

Enzo sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Did Joseph tell you how he came to be in possession of it after all these years?”

“Not in so many words,” I admit.

His eyes narrow. “What does that even mean, Rayne?” he asks, tone dripping with annoyance.

“It means he hinted at something, and it’s something I suspected myself given the circumstances.”

He stares at me, like he’s waiting for me to finish talking. Eventually he breaks the silence I refuse to. “So, what’s your theory?”

“You won’t like it.”

“I don’t like a lot of things that have happened this past week and a half, but seems that’s just my life now. So spit it out.”

I take a breath and steel myself for his disbelief, not to mention his rage at me making such an accusation. But he’s called me a liar many times—I can handle it. “Joseph said that he came into possession of the video after your papa died. He never said as much, but I got the impression it was your father’s property and he’d kept it hidden somewhere. And it makes sense to me. Especially after Joseph told me it was probably recorded using some kind of hidden device. Your father had unlimited access to our bedroom.” There, I said it. Accused his beloved hero of something, even if I’m not entirely sure what that something is.

I wait for his rebuke. His accusations. But they don’t come. He stares at me for the longest time, his brow furrowed in a scowl. “That makes sense, even if I don’t want it to. But why the hell would he set up a camera in our room, Rayne?”

“I have no idea,” I tell him. But pieces of a puzzle are falling into place. He wanted to capture what happened, didn’t he? And then use it for what? Blackmail? I’m more certain than ever that Giovanni was involved in what happened to me in some way. Or, at the very least, he knew the truth. And still he let an innocent man be murdered. He let his own son believe he’d been betrayed.

Enzo pours himself another measure of brandy. “Why would he hang onto that recording for all these years? That really makes no fucking sense to me at all.”

“Nor to me,” I admit. Unless it was for blackmail, and not to blackmail me obviously, but the other person who was in that room so that he’d keep his mouth shut too. Would Enzo believe me if I told him everything now? He did just accept my theory about the video with no argument…but this is different. This is his family betraying him in the worst possible way. While I’m buoyed by the fact that he so readily believed me just a moment ago, this would be so much bigger. The kind of revelation that would rock his entire existence. And I can’t forget the way he reacted that day. The things he called me. The look of disgust and contempt on his face. It’s why I can never fully trust him ever again, no matter how much I might want to try.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

RAYNE

Enzo pops his head into the den, gives me a once over and then frowns. We haven’t had sex again since the other night, managing to keep control of ourselves. But the tension between us still simmers constantly, and I know it won’t take much for it to ignite again. Which is why I need him to find that video and get me out of here. “You might want to put some clothes on. We have company this afternoon.”

I’m wearing my sundress, one of only two outfits in my possession, and one perfectly acceptable for a Nevada spring. I press my lips together, remind myself he’s still annoyed with me because he lost control of his senses the other night and let his dick make decisions for him—again. “There is nothing wrong with my outfit. And in any case, I have no interest in seeing your guests, so you can just close that door and leave me in peace with my book.” I hold up the battered copy of The Grapes of Wrath.

“Think you’ll find that’s my book.”

I roll my eyes.

“And while I would like nothing more than for you to stay in here all day so that I don’t have to see your face, I’m pretty sure my guest will want to see you.” He glances at his watch. “And he’ll be here in about two minutes.”

He has a guest who’ll want to see me? My stomach does a little somersault, butterflies fluttering low in my belly as I realize who it must be. While it’s annoying and inconvenient, to the say the least, being stuck in Enzo’s prison, it might be worth it for a chance to see him. Assuming he’s the guest Enzo is referring to. But I can’t imagine it being anyone else.

“Yeah, thought that might change your mind,” Enzo grumbles, and I realize I’m smiling. He mutters something in Italian and then leaves.