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“Look at me!” I smash the tenderizer on his thigh, making him growl.
Roman’s gaze snaps back to mine. “Yes.”
“I understand why you murdered him and his entire family. I even understand why you transferred the wealth I inherited from him over to Montesano Enterprises. What I want to know is how?”
His nostrils flare. “Untie me and I’ll explain.”
“Explain, or I’ll tenderize your cock,” I snap.
Roman’s eyes bulge. He parts his lips to speak and sighs. “Your art.”
My eyes sting. I’d already guessed the answer, but I need to hear it from him. I need to know exactly how after getting swindled by Lafayette, I managed to fall for another scam.
“What about it?” I ask.
“Inside every Art Purchase Agreement you signed was a contract that transferred the ownership of each asset to me for twenty-five grand.”
“You made me think I had talent,” I whisper, my voice trembling with fury.
“You do?—”
“Shut up!” I swing the tenderizer, not giving a shit where it lands.
Roman roars in agony.
Betrayal burns into my being, blistering and blazing and bitter. I clench my teeth as he struggles against his binds.
“Why did you go to such lengths to deceive me?” My eyes blur with hot tears. “Why didn’t you just put a gun to my head? I would have signed everything over, but you made me think?—”
Emotion grips me by the throat, and I double over. The heavy tool drops to the floor with a loud clang.
“Emberly,” Roman screams.
“Just fuck off,” I cry, my knees hitting the concrete.
“Baby, talk to me,” he says, his voice hitching. “Are you alright?”
“Why the fuck do you care?”
“I’m sorry. It was the only way to sign the contracts without using coercion. Imprisoning you didn’t work. You would rather die than be locked up. When I saw you threatening to jump, I changed tactics.”
“So, you pretended to be interested in my art, then set up all those fake assassinations?” I ask, my head resting on my thighs.
“No,” he rasps. “None of that was me. Everyone who came after you was sent by someone else.”
My heart thuds a sluggish beat, and my breaths turn shallow. Roman Montesano’s most maddening trait is the outlandish lies he tells that sound like the truth. Every time I ever raised a suspicion, he had a clever answer. It’s like trying to spar with the devil when you’re blindfolded, handcuffed, and gagged.
“Who was Sam?” I ask.
“Samson Capello.” He hesitates. “Your half-brother.”
Rising to my knees, I hold on to the edge of the table and pull myself up to standing. Martina Mancini explained that the law firm reached out to me after the massacre, thinking the entire family was dead. Days later, they discovered Samson had survived. Samson discovered I was trying to claim his inheritance while under Montesano control. That’s why he paid Dominic to snuff out my life.
Roman had a head start over the law firm. Only he and his allies knew Frederic Capello and his entire bloodline would die. That’s how the Montesano family found me before the Di Marco group even considered me a candidate for the inheritance.
“What happened with Samson?” I ask.
“My hitman made a mistake.” Roman exhales a shuddering breath. “We waited until Capello’s sixtieth birthday, when the entire family was in one location, but Samson stayed the night with his fiancée and let a cousin use his room.”
