Page 95 of Revenge on the Mafia

She let out an irritated sigh. “¡Por Dios, hazme caso! Your husband.”

“What’s his name?” I choked on the ball of dread collecting in my throat. My vision blurred as words spilled from my lips, firing questions like gunshots. “What does he look like? When did he start visiting you? How did he kno—”

“You’re not Anna!” Her scream punctured through the line. The next instant, the line went dead.

I stared at my phone. Mind toppling over each thought. Too many questions to keep locked behind my mouth. Jumping to my feet, I raced through the house. Yelling his name and combing room by room. Magda and Isidora rushed into the living room, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. I didn’t care anymore how much the truth was going to hurt. I was done with his games. If he wanted me to crash and burn, he’d achieved it.

The doorknob to his office almost came off as I yanked at it and pushed it open at the same time. It burst forward and took me with it. I stumbled into the room, gasping for breath. He was seated on the sofa. Hands clasped. Head bowed. When he lifted his head and his tired eyes found mine, the truth hit me like a physical blow. I staggered back a step from it. The door slipped from my hold and fell into its frame with a thud.

“Where’ve you been?” Air dragged through my lungs.

He just stared at me as if the world was about to end.

“Where’ve you been, Nico?” I snapped at him. When he didn’t answer, I throttled toward him, planted myself between his legs, and shook him by his collar. “Tell me where you’ve been!” It was part sob and plea.

His lips wouldn’t budge. I put my hand to them and pried them apart. Squeezed his throat and tried to choke out the truth. When that didn’t help, I shook him by the collar of his coat again. Oddly, he let me abuse him. What was wrong with him? “Por favor,” I screamed into his face. “Por favor,” I sobbed and collapsed onto his lap. “Tell me, please.” I sniffed at him. How did one smell after an eleven-hour flight? I didn’t know, but he smelled like it. Like teak and cedar. Like lies and fucking secrets. I gripped his hair and stared into his eyes. “You went to see Mamá.” I shook him. “Didn’t you?”

He went rigid beneath me. Solid stone that radiated heat. “All this time you’ve been visiting her. You’re her Italian friend, aren’t you?” I shook him hard, my nails digging into his hair. “Speak to me, dammit.”

When he didn’t, I leaned back, balancing on his knee with my hands on his tensed thighs. If I couldn’t get through to him like this… I yanked his shirt off me. Cold air rushed over my naked body. But his heated gaze had already put me on a pedestal. A spotlight that flushed my skin. His thick lashes hid his emotions. Like curtains, they closed off the stage, hiding the play behind them. But I knew how to read him. His hands curled around the edge of the sofa. Furiously drumming out numbers. He knew what I was coming for, and I’d do anything to get the truth out of him. If I put my hand on his chest, I’d find his heartbeat racing. Instead, I yanked at his coat. He allowed me to do it. I yanked at his tie, and it fell to the floor like a black snake. I pulled at his shirt, untucked it from his pants, but that was all he allowed before he gripped my hand and brought it to a stop.

“What? Scared I’ll destroy your fucking asset?” Bitterness poured out of me. I hated him. I hated that even though I was doing it to get answers, I still ached to have him inside me. That I’d do it even if I didn’t want the answers. And when I showed my hatred of him, when I glared at him, with every ugly feeling that boiled inside me, I knew right at that moment he hated me too. He hated the power I held over him. He hated that he didn’t want to give me the truth, but that he was too weak to stop me.

Putting my hands flat on his chest, I pushed him away. But then I yanked his belt off, ripped the zipper down, and pulled him out. He was a monster in my hand. Thick, veined, and pulsing red with fury. I proved my raging insanity to myself by dragging his tip to my opening and pushing down in one go. It hurt so badly that it felt like he’d burned my fucking insides. Liquid gathered in my eyes. He dropped back to the sofa, head rolled to the ceiling. His arms embraced the back, hands fisted. I rolled my hips. The moan that I’d kept caged inside throttled out. It was too loud. It probably reached Magda and Isidora’s ears, but I was so far beyond control that I couldn’t give a damn. I was going to make this man tell me everything. Even if it was going to end me. I couldn’t bear these secrets anymore. He had to tell me. Rolling my hips, I rode him. I was a wild animal using him to get myself off, and he was solving a mathematical equation. The idea of it pissed me off. That he thought he could count something and get away with it. The only way he was getting off was with me.

I snaked my hand behind his neck and yanked his head up. His jaw flexed. His thick lids started to fall. “Don’t you dare,” I muttered and, falling forward, swallowed his muffled breath.

He tried to shove me off. But he was weakening, and I was going mad. I picked up speed at an insane rate. An inhuman sound ripped from his chest. He grabbed the nape of my neck and bit my lip. I tasted blood, and instead of turning me off, it dripped into my veins like liquid heat. My vision went black, and I exploded around him. Screaming, moaning, and shaking, I thrived on his helpless grunts buried in my mouth as he jerked inside me.

When I fell from my high, the walls still echoed my screams, the air still breathed of sex and hate. That moment bit into my skin, but when he finally spoke, I wished he hadn’t. Instead of answering me he came for my worst fear. I’d hidden it behind a concrete barrier and under a gaping hole in my memory. But he so easily dug it out to smash my chest open.

“There was money missing from the accounting.”

I glared at him. We weren’t going down that path. That’s not what I’d asked, and I didn’t give him permission to provide me with fucking answers to that. “No.” I shook my head instantly. I stumbled off him, his thickness slipping out, cum dripping down my thigh. “No,” I said again.

He continued, as if I hadn’t spoken, eyes intent on me. “Only person who could have—”

Anger burned in my stomach. I held out my trembling hand. “Don’t you dare tell me that. It’s a lie.”

“It’s not a lie, stella mia, let me te—”

“NO!” I snapped while backing away from him. My feet tripped on his jacket, and I fell to the floor. He buckled his pants. Started to rise. “Don’t you dare.” My hands shook as I dragged his jacket on and muttered incoherently, “I don’t want to know. Keep your lies.”

“Fuck’s sake.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s hard enough to tell you. Let me—”

“Stop it.” I shook my head, stumbling back to my feet. “I don’t want to hear it. My papá was a good man.” My voice climbed with each word, and at the end of it, I was screaming.

He staggered to his feet, shirt still untucked. I need to get away from him. From this house. He caught it in my eyes. Spinning around, I fled. Feet thundered behind me. But I was lighter. Crazier. Faster. I fled from him. Fled from the house. Fled from the thought that my papá, the man I’d looked up to, the man I’d loved, the man who was the biggest part of me even if I couldn’t remember him, could be anything but good. He was fucking gold, and I didn’t want to hear anything else. I got to the sidewalk in front of his house before the tight set of his arms wrapped around me, lifted me off my feet, and tossed me over his shoulder. “Jesus fucking Christ. Do you want me to kill every fucking man in New York?” A palm whipped to cover my naked ass. “Because that’s what I’d do if anyone saw you like this.”

His words hadn’t even hit the air fully before his next victim turned up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man?”

I groaned. I didn’t even know how it was possible, but he went ice-cold. Violence vibrated from his body. His voice was deadly calm when he spoke. “Mind your own business.” He strode toward the house.

“Put her down, man.”

Nico made to turn. “No.” I sank my nails into his back and pulled my head up. A middle-aged man bravely walked up to us.

“Stop.” My voice cracked. He wasn’t convinced. I held out my hands. My breasts chose that moment to slip out of his coat. Underneath me, he growled like a caged gorilla while I fumbled to hide my assets. “Sir, I’m okay. I promise.”