by Penelope Sky
God, I was going to be sick again.
17
Cato
I had a meeting in one of my offices in Florence. It was in the building across the street from the coffee shop—the very one where I’d spoken to Siena for the first time. She had been reading a book and stalking me like an amateur. I always knew she was harmless because she was doing it alone.
I was only present at meetings when there was a lot of money on the table. These men from France were looking for someone to invest in their underground brothels, an underground world of sex. Unlike trafficking, this was straight-up prostitution. I’d paid for sex a lot in my life, so I didn’t pass judgment.
Bates came into the room unexpectedly. He didn’t even knock. “Cato, I need to talk to you.” The vein in his forehead was throbbing dangerously, which told me he was about to explode in rage. Whatever pissed him off had really pissed him off.
“Can it wait fifteen minutes?” I was sitting across from the Frenchmen, with the contracts sitting on the table.
“No.” He glanced at our clients then back at me. “I’m sorry, it can’t.”
I knew Bates wouldn’t interrupt me unless it was important, so I cooperated. “I apologize, Mr. Beaumont and Mr. Champlain. Would you mind if I stepped out for twenty minutes?”
Mr. Beaumont nodded. “Of course.”
I was letting them borrow a shit-ton of money, so they better be accommodating. I walked out with Bates and shut the door. “What the hell?”
Bates moved into a vacant conference room and shut the door behind us.
“Do you have any idea how—”
“Siena is a lying whore.” He slammed his fist down onto the table, making the entire thing tremble under the force of his hand.
I stilled at the insult but didn’t jump to her aid. My brother was too infuriated for that. He must be making those insults for a valid reason. “What are you talking about?”
“I knew she was full of shit.” He pointed his hand at my chest. “Fucking whore.”
I kept my anger in check even though I wanted to punch him in the face. “What did she do?”
“Her father has been missing for a month.”
Stefano Russo ran a cigar empire. It was respectable but small. People went missing every day, so it wasn’t surprising that didn’t catch my attention. But it was concerning that he disappeared exactly when Siena and I started our relationship.
“I dug deeper and found out Micah and Damien hit his warehouse, killed everyone, and took Stefan as a prisoner. Siena’s brother escaped, and no one has spotted him since.”
My hands rested in my pockets and I kept a straight face, but my heart was starting to pound in my chest. My rage was growing slowly to match his, but I kept it hidden under my icy exterior.
“Siena stopped talking to her father when her mother died. I guess she blamed him for her death and wanted nothing to do with the family business. But Damien threatened to kill her father if she didn’t turn you over.”
Now it became harder for me to maintain my expression, to pretend this meant nothing to me. It felt like a knife was stabbing me through the gut, but I still couldn’t react to it. This woman had been in my bed and I fucked her like she meant something to me, but she’d used me the entire time.
Fuck. I was an idiot.
“Her plan is to get you away from your men so Damien can grab you. They’ll make the exchange then.” My brother was livid, visibly enraged with that vein throbbing away in his forehead. He didn’t have the strength to remain calm the way I did. If this happened to him, he probably would be more graceful about it. But since someone fucked with me, his brother, he couldn’t see straight.
I was the most terrifying man in this country, but I let pussy cloud my judgment. She was different from the other women I met, and that intrigued me. But now I knew she was different because she was never seriously interested in me at all. I was just a farm animal she was fattening up before the slaughter.
Bates stared at me as he waited for me to say something.
I didn’t have a damn thing to say. I turned away and walked toward the window, my hands sliding into my pockets.
“You better kill her.”
I stared at the café across the street, remembering Siena sitting at one of the tables. Maybe she hadn’t followed me for the job. Maybe she’d followed me because she was trying to get under my skin that entire time. “How credible is your source?”
“Very.”
Everything made sense, regardless of how much I didn’t want to believe it.
Bates came to my side and stared out the window with me. “I told you so, asshole. I fucking told you so.”
“Yeah…you did.” I was angry, but most of all, I was humiliated. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed someone to get that close to me, allowed someone to mislead me like that. I fell for her lies like a dumbass.
He turned to me, his jaw strained with rage. “I’ll kill that little bitch if you don’t want to do it. I’d be happy to.”
Breaking down her front door and shooting her between the eyes didn’t sound like enough revenge. “No.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
“Yes, eventually. But I have a better idea.”
“Rescue her father so we can execute him in front of her?” he asked, his eyes brightening with crude violence.
“No. I’ll let her think she fooled me. And just when she thinks she’s gotten away with it, I’ll be the one to fool her.”
“I like that idea. Teach that bitch a lesson.”
I felt no urge to defend her honor anymore. “And then I’ll kill her.”
18
Siena
The nausea got worse because the guilt started to crush me.
I couldn’t believe I was going to do this.
Cato didn’t deserve this.
I threw up every morning for three days because the dread was killing me. I had to choose between my father and Cato, and the choice seemed obvious. But that didn’t make me feel better about my decision.
It only made me feel worse.
I’d just finished making dinner in the kitchen when the front door opened. Now I knew it wasn’t Damien, so the only person who could barge into my house was Cato. His heavy footfalls were unmistakable.
“I’m in the kitchen.” I turned off the stove and put the meal on two plates.
He rounded the corner and came toward me, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His suits looked flawless on him, but the thin cotton of his shirt was much better. Showed off his chiseled forearms. When he spotted me, he stilled, his head slightly cocked and his eyes narrowed. It was the same intense look he always gave me. It just seemed a little deeper than usual.
The stare almost made me uncomfortable because he resembled a predator so much. I felt like a cornered gazelle, and he was the leopard about to rip me to pieces. He didn’t greet me with a kiss or a look full of arousal. He just stared me down like a statue, like he wasn’t truly real.
I tried to defuse the tension. “Are you hungry?” I held up the two plates.
He kept his eyes locked to mine. No answer.
“Alright…” I walked past him and set the plates on the dining table. “Well, if you want something, it’s there.” I moved behind him and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. His cold behavior was unusual, but I didn’t want to ask him about it. Once I opened that can of worms, I didn’t know what would come out.
I poured wine into his glass and added water to mine.
He joined me a moment later, his eyes focused on mine as he placed the food in his mouth.
“Long day?”
“You could say that.”
I kept eating like everything was normal, but deep inside my chest, there was a storm of emotions. The guilt ate me alive and chased away my appetite. Then it made me throw up the food I managed to get down in the first place.
He drank his wine then kept eating. “No gun today?”
“I assumed it was you.�
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“You didn’t assume that before. What changed?”
I shrugged. “I guess I just got used to it.”
He chewed slowly, his blue eyes locked on to mine like targets.
Was he always this intense? Or was it just a warm evening? I grabbed my water and took a drink.
“No wine?”
“Trying to cut back. My stomach has been upset lately.”
“Stressed?” He drank his wine again.
“No. I’m not sure.”
“It’s natural for the body to shut down under stressful situations.”
I was in the most stressful situation of my life. “Decorating a three-story mansion isn’t as easy as it sounds.”
“Among other things…”
I didn’t even finish half my meal because my stomach couldn’t handle it. The cramping got worse the second he walked into the house.
“Everything alright, Siena?” He ate every single bite on his plate without looking at his utensils.
“Yes. Why do you ask?” Was I that flustered?
“You said your stomach hurt. You’re quiet. You aren’t pointing a gun at me. Not exactly yourself this evening.”
Neither was he. “My mother’s anniversary is in a few days…” I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Now the plan was set into motion. It was time to commit to it. “The anniversary of her death. It’s been five years.”
He rested both elbows on the table as he stared at me, his hands coming together in front of him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anniversaries are hard.”
“Birthdays too. But those make me remember her when she was alive. The anniversaries just make me think of the day she was gone.”
He massaged his knuckles slightly as he stared at me. Throughout the entire meal, he’d only blinked a handful of times. “It’s rough.”
“She’s at the cemetery outside of Florence. I was going to go visit her.” I waited for him to offer to accompany me. That would make it less obvious than me asking him outright. “Bring her some flowers or something.”
“That sounds nice.”
Maybe he wouldn’t offer to go with me. “If you aren’t busy, I would really like it if you came with me. Going alone is always hard…”
His eyes narrowed instantly, like the question meant something more to him than it should. He pulled his arms off the table and sat back against the chair, his wide shoulders as expansive as a billboard. “You want me to go with you?”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” If I didn’t get him alone, then the plan would never work. I wouldn’t have to feel guilty for not saving my father, not when I tried. So if Cato didn’t cooperate, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He would make the decision for me.
“No.” He leaned forward over the table, his brilliant blue eyes settling on mine. “I would love to.”
My heart immediately broke in two. I hated myself more than I ever had. I hated Damien for putting me in this position. I hated that Cato was so strict I couldn’t just ask for his help instead. No matter what decision I made, it was a bad one. “Thank…” I cleared my throat to keep the emotion out of my voice, but it was no use. I felt like dirt—felt lower than dirt.
He reached for my hand on the table and held it. “Baby.”
Oh god. His hand was so warm as it enveloped mine. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, treasuring the way his affection felt, but also battling the guilt at the same time. I didn’t know what he would say next, but I suspected my heart was about to melt into a huge puddle.
“Everything you said about me was right. I’m unfulfilled. I’m empty. I have everything, but I had nothing at all…until you. I live in a world where women only want me for sex or money. Then I met you and all of that changed. With you, I don’t have to look over my shoulder. With you, I don’t have to wonder what your motives are.” He held my gaze as his thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Because I trust you.”
Cato didn’t seem interested in missionary anymore. All he wanted was to fuck me from behind, pressing my face into the sheets as he slammed into me. They were always hard screws, contradictions to the gentle words he said to me.
He fucked me like he hated me.
I liked it, but I also missed the old way.
He slept over then left the following morning, still quiet and brooding. Despite the sweet things he said at dinner, his mood still seemed strange. He wasn’t quite himself, staring at me with a slight look of concentrated anger.
Or maybe I was just imagining it.
The night before we were supposed to visit the cemetery, Damien called me. “So, everything still ready to go?”
“Yes.”
“What time will you arrive?”
“Two.” It was the middle of the day when everyone was at work. It was quiet out in the countryside, and hopefully, no one would be there visiting loved ones. I wanted this to be clean and easy. Even though my stomach hadn’t been either of those things.
“We’ll be waiting past the gates. I’ll have all my men with me—so don’t pull anything.”
“What could I possibly pull?” I was bringing the most wanted man right to them. “My father better be there, Damien.”
“Sweetheart, I’m a man of my word. Just make sure he comes alone. If he doesn’t, I’ll shoot your father in the stomach and watch him slowly bleed out and die.”
That was an image I didn’t want to picture. “Fuck off, Damien.” I hung up and tossed my phone aside before I sat on the couch. Just like earlier that morning, the nausea got to me. It was so common that I wondered if there was something serious going on with me. Guilt could do strange things to people, but to make me so physically ill? That didn’t seem likely.
I hardly slept that night because all I could think about was the following day. I stared out the window and watched the sun slowly pierce the curtains and blanket the room with light. The entire night had passed—and I’d hardly closed my eyes.
I got ready for the day and did my best to cover the bags under my eyes. I looked paler than usual, like all the blood had drained from my face and neck and gave me a vampire-like appearance. I wore a black dress with white pearls around my neck, a necklace my mother had given me.
The pain I would normally feel over losing my mother was absent because I felt so much other pain. Cato was good to me, and I was about to throw him under the bus. He told me I was one of the few people in this world he could trust…and I was about to stab him in the back.
But also save my father.
I was downstairs when Cato walked in the door.
This time, I kept it unlocked so he didn’t have to pick the mechanism in the door.
“That was quicker than usual.” He was in black jeans and a black shirt. It was way too hot for a black suit or a blazer, so his casual attire was appropriate. If the heat didn’t get you, the humidity would.
“Would you prefer I lock it?”
“I like to time myself. A challenge.” He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks…” I avoided the sincerity in his eyes because it felt wrong to enjoy it. I grabbed the bouquet of flowers I’d gathered from my garden and carried them outside.
Cato followed behind me, his arm circling my waist. “My driver can take us.”
“Ugh, I would rather drive, if that’s okay. I don’t want to visit my mother with strangers in the front seat.”
Cato didn’t put up an argument as he led me to the old car in the dirt driveway. It was almost eight years old and small. Even in the front seat, Cato’s legs would have a hard time fitting. He got into the passenger seat without complaint.
I started the car. “Your fifty men aren’t going to follow us, right?”
He looked out the window. “They always accompany me.”
“I know, but I’m not sure if that’s appropriate. We’re going to a cemetery…” Hearing myself talk just made me hate myself more. Was it as obvious to him as it was
to me?
Cato didn’t seem suspicious at all. “Alright.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and made the call. “Wait for me here. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” He returned the phone to his pocket and stared at my house. “Done.”
I didn’t expect that to be so easy. I expected a further argument, at least a few questions.
But Cato trusted me implicitly.
After a short drive, we were about two miles from the cemetery. The radio was off, and we sat in comfortable silence while my flowers lay in the back seat. Both of my hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, and the air didn’t seem cool enough to combat the sweat that formed on the back of my neck.
Cato was quiet, looking out the window without making conversation. His knees were apart, and his hands rested on his thighs. My car was far too small for a man his size, but he never insulted my piece-of-shit ride.
My pulse was so powerful in my neck, I could actually hear it.
I wondered if he could hear it too.
The closer I got to the gates, the worse I felt. My gut told me this was wrong—and my heart was in agreement. I wanted to save my father, but I didn’t want someone else to take his place.
Especially Cato.
Cato had been good to me, even when he behaved like an asshole. He respected me, treated me well, and he had a good heart. Sometimes his true selflessness was lost in his work, but I knew he wore his heart on his sleeve. He took care of his mother when other men would be too greedy to share their wealth. He would take a bullet for his brother. And sometimes I wondered if he would take a bullet for me.
I knew he didn’t love me. But he cared about me.
And I cared about him.
I’m sorry, Father. I slowed the car down until it came to a stop in the middle of the street. There were fields around us and homes in the distance. The sky was too beautiful for a tragedy to happen today. Both of my hands were still on the wheel as the self-loathing hit me. I hated myself for turning my back on my father, but it was his fault he was there. I’d told him to walk away from the business—but he didn’t listen.
