The woman recovers from her shock. “I hope you’re not stupid enough to talk that way around the don’s relatives.”
“What’s your name?” I ask. I like to know the names of my enemies.
“Sabina,” she says. “I’m the house manager. I was hired by the don’s grandmother, the late Signora Costa. She was a real lady. Pure class.” She leans down until her lips are hovering beside my ear and whispers, “This used to be a respectable family, and now look at the trash they’ve brought in.”
Miserable woman. “Take it up with your don. This trash would be happy to take itself right out if he no longer wants it.”
She straightens out and sneers. “The don is making a mistake marrying you. Everyone knows it. If only you knew how the family’s been arguing about it, you wouldn’t dare to show your face tonight.”
I purse my lips as I process this information. Interesting. So the Messeros aren’t happy about the bride swap, huh? Well, it’s good to know I won’t be the only miserable person at the wedding.
“You really overestimate the number of fucks I give about the feelings of Rafaele’s family,” I retort.
Sabina sprays something over my hair. “With that mouth, you won’t last very long.”
Maybe she’s right. Rafaele doesn’t know what he’s getting here. I’m not an easy person to live with, and once I know Gem’s safe, he won’t have anything he can use to keep me in line. Even if he threatens to hurt me, I won’t care. I’d rather die than become a submissive shell of a human like my mother.
“You’re ready. Let’s go.” Sabina wraps her palm around my elbow and hauls me to my feet.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the don, of course.”
Heart hammering, I let her lead me out of the room and do my best not to stumble. My legs feel like jelly.
I am so damn fucked.
CHAPTER 3
RAFAELE
My fist crashes into the man’s jaw with a sharp crack. “I have somewhere to be, Joshua. Stop wasting my time.”
He moans, blood and saliva leaking out of his mouth and onto the polished concrete floor.
The old white clock on the wall ticks past six thirty. I need at least a few minutes to get myself cleaned up before I head down for the rehearsal dinner.
“Pffease,” Joshua bleats through a mouth full of broken teeth. “Pffea—”
I punch him again. A few drops of blood land high on my forearm.
Fuck. I’d hoped this wouldn’t turn into such a fucking mess.
“The next time you say a word, make it one I want to hear.”
Behind me, Nero lets out a loud sigh. “Maybe he really doesn’t know anything. He’s a vain bastard. I don’t think he’d let you pummel him like this if he did.”
Joshua’s chin bumps against his chest. Did the fucker just pass out?
I kick him hard in the shin. Nothing.
Annoyance crawls up my spine. Joshua’s father, Conor Paddington, owns one of the biggest cement-pouring businesses in New York, and he’s been paying his twenty percent dutifully for over a decade. Then last week, he disappeared. Joshua took over in his stead, but the guy’s a certified idiot. He’s already fired their VP of operations, and it won’t be long until he runs the business into the ground.
If Conor is alive, we’re going to get him back, and my hunch is that the only person who knows where he is, is the son of a bitch before me.
“Get me the adrenaline.”
There’s a rustling sound behind me. A moment later, a syringe is placed in my open hand. I take off the cap and jab it into Joshua’s thigh.
The man intakes a sharp breath, his eyes springing wide.
I’ve really got to wrap this up. I pick up a serrated knife off the tray, grab Joshua’s hand, and start sawing off his pinky finger.
His screams fill the air.
I raise my voice so that he can hear me. “I hope you have an assistant to help you answer emails. You won’t be typing any time soon. Or ever, if you don’t start talking, right. Fucking. Now.”
When I reach bone, Joshua breaks.
“He’s at the house in Poughkeepsie! Jesus, fuck!”
I stop moving the knife. That’s an hour and a half from here. “What did you do to him?”
“He’s alive. Or at least he was when I checked on him a few days ago.”
I glance at Nero. My consigliere raises his hands in acquiescence. He’d thought Conor ran, but I told him there’s no way. Paddington’s not the kind of man to run away from his own problems. It’s why I’ve always liked him. He pays his protection money on time and in full. And we’re not the type of outfit that takes cash and doesn’t deliver on our end. That’s the kind of shit Stefano Garzolo used to pull, and look where he is now.