She drops her gaze to stare at my chest, clamping on her bottom lip with her teeth.
I nudge her chin higher, forcing her to look at me. “Answer me.”
“Drop it,” she breathes.
“No.”
The elevator door opens. She pushes past me, hurrying into the lot, but I’m right behind her.
I grab her forearm. “Cleo—”
She winces like I’m hurting her. I know I’m not. My grip is firm, but not enough to be painful. I pull her sleeve up and see a handprint on her forearm. A hot wave of anger rolls through me.
He. Hurt. My. Wife?
He’s a fucking dead man. I disengage the knife strapped to my wrist, letting the handle slide into my waiting palm, and start walking back to the elevator. I’m going to slice off the hand Cosimo used to do this. And then I’m going to feed it to that fucking koi.
“Rafe! What are you doing?” Cleo shouts after me.
“Gonna cut him.”
There’s a gasp and I hear her heels clacking against the concrete floor as she tries to catch up to me. “He’s already gone! You can’t just walk back into Ferraro’s home with a knife! What’s wrong with you?”
I halt. “Who’s gone?”
“My father.” She comes around me, blocking my path.
My thoughts rush to catch up. “Your father did this to you?”
“Who do you think?” Her eyes widen with realization. “You thought it was Cosimo? No. He got Papà away from me.”
This doesn’t make any sense. “Why would your father do this to you? You told me he never laid a hand on you.”
“He didn’t!” She shoves her fingers into her hair and huffs out an anguished breath. Her gaze flickers with whatever she’s refusing to tell me. “Rafe, please. Just calm down.”
Calm down? Only then do I clue into the fact that I’m panting like an enraged bear. My pulse is pounding so hard I can hear it inside my ears. My palm is hot around the handle of the knife. Every muscle in my body is tense, ready to strike.
It’s happening again. This is how I felt when I saw Ludovico trying to force himself on her in my club. How I felt when I saw her bleeding on the ground in Il Caminetto.
Out of control.
I give my head a shake, Nero’s warning coming back to me loud and clear.
I’ve seen how she gets under your skin.
Fuck it. I don’t give a fuck about any of that right now. All I know is that I’d do anything to protect her. Anything. And if that means killing her father so he can never touch her again, so be it.
She grabs my wrist and tries to pull me in the direction of our car. “Please. Let’s just get into the car and go home.”
“Cleo, tell me what is going on. Why would your father do this?”
She sniffs.
I force myself to take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
She grimaces. I study her face. Her eyes are wide and, God fucking help me, guilty. I know that look so well I’d recognize it on anyone. But if her father hurt her, why does she feel guilty? And why isn’t she answering me?
Cleo hates her father. She wouldn’t stay silent to protect him. But she’d stay silent to protect herself.
Whatever she sees in my expression makes her let go of my arm. She takes one step back, then another.
Alarm bells are ringing in my head. “What did you do?”
Her cheeks are flushed. “Okay. Listen. I can explain.”
I start to advance on her, my suspicions confirmed. “Do you know how many times people have said that to me? I’ll let you guess how those conversations usually end.”
She backs away from me. “Two weeks ago, Papà made me an offer.”
I match her step for step. “What kind of an offer?”
“He…” She swallows. “He asked me to spy on you.”
My body freezes. A deep pit opens in my stomach, filled with razor blades and ice.
“To what end?” I grind out.
Her eyes fill with tears. “He wanted me to find a weakness so that he could get rid of you.”
I can’t help but laugh. This is too good. Garzolo, that fucking backstabbing snake. I should have known a man like him can never be trusted. But this was really his best plan? Get his daughter involved?
My eyes narrow on Cleo. She makes me feel like I’m going crazy. Did I really just think I’d do anything for this woman? That’s not how this works. I know that’s not how this works.
I’m a don, and my first duty is to my position, not to her. But she is my wife, and she is supposed to be fucking loyal to me.