Page 96 of Revenge on the Mafia

He wasn’t convinced and searched for his phone in his bag. “I’m calling the police.”

I groaned. My mind ran wild trying to come up with something. Anything. Because of my actions, a man was going to be killed. “You aren’t going to embarrass us, are you? Embarrass me? My husband and I were just playing a game.” I wiggled my finger and showed off my wedding band to him. I sat up straighter. Wrapped one hand behind my back and brought the other to the front to hide the view. When I wobbled, I dropped my hand instinctively to his shoulder to steady me. “He loves me.” My tone dripped with honey. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Nico opened his mouth, and I rushed my hand covering my ass to clamp his mouth shut. He bit my palm. I winced but covered it with a painful grin.

The gentleman stared at us. Assessing the gorilla and me. His hand lifted off the phone, slowly. With a shake of his head and a muttered, “Stick to your bedroom,” he walked away.

My hand dropped from his mouth. “Please don’t do anything to him.”

He was moving toward the door. “Too late.”

“He won’t call the police.”

“Fuck if I care. No one gets to see you like this.” His palm left my ass, and I thought it was to put me down, but instead the air whipped, and he whacked me hard.

“¡Hiyo de puta!”

He dropped me down at the entrance hall. I spun around and made for the bedroom. Slamming the door shut and locking it, I made it a few feet into the room before my legs turned to rubber. I dropped to the floor, my ass burning, my emotions overwhelming. Wrapping my hands around my knees, I burst into painful sobs.

The door flew off its hinges and slammed against the wall. I stared at the opening where he stood. He might as well have just walked in. Not taken a door off its literal hinges. He advanced toward me. I looked him in the eye and asked him in a broken voice. “What do you want me to do so you won’t hurt him?”

“Forget the fucker,” he growled. “I need you to listen to what I was saying.”

“No.” I backed away from him, sliding against the wall.

He dropped to his haunches in front of me. “Your Papá was a—”

“Por favor, no.” Backing away, I blocked my ears with my hands. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Jesus Christ, stella mia. This is not the time to unleash your fucking Spanish fury.” He hooked a hand around my ankle and yanked. My head dropped to the floor like a brick and dragged along when he pulled me to him.

“My papá was good,” I snapped at him. He was trying to poison my mind. I wouldn’t allow it.

“Of course he fucking was,” he shot back.

“Nothing you say will chan—” I spread my fingers and stared at him. “What?”

He yanked both my hands away from my ears. “You’re missing out on his memories because you think he’s done something you wouldn’t like. Stop fucking doing that.”

My entire body trembled. “Are you saying he didn’t?” Hope sparked in my chest.

“You know he didn’t. If you stopped being a coward and looked deep into your memories, you would know he was a good man.”

I frowned. He was both pissing me off and easing my mind. I bit my lip. “He’s not a thief?” My words trembled.

He shook his head.

“But you said that he—”

He lowered his head to my face. Hands braced on either side of me, lips a breath away from me. “Juan Vales was a good man, Anna,” he breathed. “But don’t take my word for it. Stop blocking your past. You know he was a good man. Better. He was the type of man who set an example. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Including me. Capisci?”

We stared at each other. His words took shape, forming into a solid reality. Smoke in my vision. A gap in it.

“Who’s your teacher, Papá?”

I was six. Both of us at the piano, in front of the open window, the cream curtains flying high in the strong wind.

“No one. I learned it myself.”