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“Cade’s going to escort you,” Sophie’s voice breaks through, her words gentle, reassuring. “Tell him everything, Maria. It could make all the difference.”
Maria’s gratitude is palpable, even from a distance. “Thank you, Sophie.”
“I’m happy to help,” Sophie replies as she hugs Maria once more and then helps Victoria up into the back seat of the SUV.
So, it’s true. Sophie’s words confirm it. I have a clear shot of Cade. But do I take it? No. Because I fucking gave that woman my word that I wouldn’t hurt him, even if he’s about to destroy me.
Dante never made such a promise, though.
I head back to Dante as Cade climbs into the SUV’s driver’s seat. Dante’s watching me; I can practically feel the words on the tip of his tongue, but I shake my head.
“Follow the SUV,” I tell him before he can get a word out. The tone of my voice brooks no argument.
He nods. “Why am I following?” he asks—a fair question.
“Quinn’s all yours. Make it quick, painless, and mess-free. But first, find out where he’s taking them.”
“You got it, fratello,” Dante responds, a hint of resolve in his tone as he heads to his car.
As Cade drives off, I look back to see Sophie standing at the front step, waving goodbye. She then disappears inside, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond her doorstep.
Dante’s Porsche purrs to life, shadowing the SUV discreetly.
I look around, searching for any sign of Romano—because some stupid, fucked-up part of me still feels the need to protect Sophie. But there’s no sign of him. I shake my head at myself, contemplating my next move, but there is only one move: Sophie Kellan is going to answer for what she’s done.
My footsteps thud across the pavement as I stride along the sidewalk to her house. My movements are no longer stealthy; I don’t give a flying fuck if she hears me coming. In fact, I think I’d prefer it.
I make it to the front step and raise my hand to knock, but I hesitate, my knuckles a hair’s breadth from the wood.
Do you really think she did this? The dumbass in my brain objects as it throws up memories of the woman inside, one after another after another, none of which correspond with a cold-hearted bitch.
But Leo hadn’t struck me as a traitor either.
And with the memory of my friend’s betrayal fresh in mind, I knock on the door, three sharp raps.
The moment she begins to open the door, I’m ready. I shove my foot into the opening, force the door open wider, and step inside.
“Nico!” Relief washes over her features. Joy. Longing. Love? She looks…excited to see me.
Fucking actress.
“Thank God! I’ve been wanting to speak to you—”
I cut her off, seething. “You lied to me.”
She blinks in confusion. There’s no guilt etched across her face, nothing to suggest she feels an iota of remorse for what she’s done.
“You betrayed me,” I go on, pressing my point, expecting her to wilt under the accusation.
Yet, Sophie’s reaction isn’t one of defeat. For a fleeting moment, she’s bewildered, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Then, as understanding—or the semblance of it—dawns on her, her attitude shifts.
“What? Oh, no, Nico, you’ve got it all wrong. Please, let me explain about Maria—”
My patience snaps. “I’m not interested in hearing your lies! What the fuck do you take me for?”
Her initial flinch at my raised voice quickly gives way to anger. Her cheeks flush and shoulders square. She stands up taller. “I took you for a friend—much more than a friend, actually. I thought you trusted me. I hoped you saw a partner in me. Apparently, I was wrong.”
“Just so you know, Cade Quinn is a dead man, and that’s on you. And—”
