I tighten my lips. According to her diary, Ronaldo paid off their overdue bills, but the excuse Gigi spun was that she borrowed it from one of her girlfriends. John wanted to know who, but she refused to tell and it caused a fight considering John was a typical man back then with pride and an ego.
But from what I gleaned from the entries, I can’t be sure if Ronaldo ever paid off John’s debts. He had mentioned he’d take care of it, but when the righthand man for the mafia says those words, that can mean a number of things.
Maybe he killed the people instead and gained Gigi enemies by doing so.
Jesus, it really is like time repeating itself if that’s the case.
“Then how did he pay off the men he owed?”
Mark finishes off his drink before refilling. “You know, now that I think about it, I remember overhearing a particular conversation. My father told him that he needed to quit with the gambling, and John wasn’t listening. He said one of the men he owed was Angelo Salvatore—who was a pretty notorious crime lord back in the day. But turns out Angelo’s righthand man, Ronaldo, convinced Angelo to hire John instead.”
It takes monumental effort to keep my eyes from blowing wide. John was working for Ronaldo’s boss? There’s no way Gigi knew about it. I imagine that’s something she would’ve mentioned if she had.
“Why would he hire him? Why not just kill him?”
“He almost did,” Mark counters. He then opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a cigar. Lighting the tobacco, Mark leans back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. A woodsy scent fills the air as he puffs.
“I’ll never forget the way my father ripped into him over it. Calling him names and telling him he could’ve gotten himself killed. John said Angelo had a gun to his head, ready to pull the trigger before Ronaldo stepped in. Said the man asked Angelo to consider hiring John to pay off his debts by working for him instead.” Mark sucks in deeply and then coughs a few times as smoke puffs from his mouth. “Guess it worked.”
So, Ronaldo saved John’s life. I don’t need to have been there to know he only did it for Gigi. But it’s not like he could’ve told Angelo his real reasons for bartering John’s life, which means John had to have been useful in some form—that would’ve been too risky of a move otherwise, and possibly could’ve gotten him killed if John wasn’t valuable.
“Do you know what he did for Angelo?”
Mark’s brows raise, and a small smile curls his lips. Almost as if he finds my question amusing. “John was an accountant back then. Real good with numbers. Pretty sure he helped Angelo launder his money, but that was never proven.”
I blink. “If he was so good with numbers and money, why did he suck so bad with gambling? The man could’ve just counted cards or something.”
Mark bursts out into laughter, his plump stomach shaking. “You’re a funny girl, Addie. You’re right, I think if John was in his right mind when he played, he might’ve won big. But he couldn’t stop with the drinking. Angelo told John he didn’t give a shit what he did in his free time, but if he showed up to work drunk and fucked with his money, he was a dead man.”
I frown. I can’t imagine Angelo would target Gigi if John messed up, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do something else to piss off the mob boss.
The possibilities are endless on the ways John could’ve gotten Gigi killed.
“Wasn’t this something Frank told the detectives since he believed John was guilty? They didn’t look into this?”
He huffs out a dry laugh. “You ever try to pin a crime on a mob boss? Not that easy, kiddo. They got all kinds of people in their pockets. It was dropped due to a lack of evidence. If you want my opinion, I think John got a taste for the danger, and whether it’s because Gigi was having an affair or because she wanted to leave John, he snapped and killed her.”
Jesus Christ.
The possibility of that sounds… likely. Very likely.
“I just have one last question,” I say, fiddling with my dress. I’m creasing it, but I don’t care. “What made Frank turn on John? They were best friends. So why not give John the benefit of the doubt instead of trying so hard to pin the blame on him?”
He takes a moment to puff on his cigar. “My guess is that he saw John for what he was, and chose to try and bring Gigi justice, even if that meant putting away his best friend. With his drinking, temper, and then getting involved in the mafia, I think it’s safe to say he was becoming a violent man. Would explain why my father was so goddamn torn up over everything after John was proven innocent.”
I frown and can’t help but feel sympathy for Mark’s father. He got caught up in a pretty toxic vortex of cheating, lies, and crime between Gigi and John. I imagine that would’ve taken a toll on anyone.
“Anyway, I think that’s enough of that for tonight. There’s an annual charity we’re hosting in a few weeks. I could always expect to see you there and speak on it more then,” Mark says, his eyes sparkling.
“I’ll check my schedule,” Zade cuts in, relieving me of having to make any commitments. In most cases, I wouldn’t appreciate the implication that he’s the boss, but right now, I’m nothing but grateful for it.
“Of course,” Mark concedes, his smile a tad more strained than before.
Mark drones on about boring work-related stuff for another hour, drinking his alcohol, puffing on his expensive cigar, and increasingly becoming more drunk.
I barely listen, too lost in thought about everything I just learned. And maybe a little heartbroken that Gigi might’ve been murdered by her own husband. Someone she did love and trust, despite her affair.
Even when you're married to someone for over a decade, it’s possible to never really know them and what they're capable of.
I glance at Zade. I'm learning exactly what he's capable of, and it's fucking terrifying.
Zade is fucking terrifying.
It’s impossible not to consider the possibility that if I ever were to fall in love with him, that he could turn on me too.
For the fourth time, Mark's phone rings in the middle of the conversation. Every time, his face darkens when he looks to see who's calling.
"Everything okay?" Zade asks, noting his odd behavior.
Mark glances at Zade, forcing a strained smile before attempting to pocket his phone.
Drunkenly, he drops it, and it’s almost painful watching him pick it up. I can hear his bones creaking from here.
As alcohol takes control over his body, all I can focus on is how it seems to age him further.
The liver spots on his balding head and darkened hands, and the bags underneath his eyes have formed a few more wrinkles.
He’s an ugly man. On the inside and out. And it’s a wonder how his depravity has sunk so low when the man has everything most people could want in life. Money, power, influence, and a beautiful wife that might’ve loved him if he weren’t so evil.
“Yeah, a few of my colleagues are freakin’ out over some ssstupid leaked video,” Mark slurs, finally getting the phone in his pocket.
Zade stiffens beside me, though his face stays unreadable.
“Leaked video?”