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The words hit like a jolt of electricity to the heart.
“I’m on it.” Gil pulls out his phone and dials.
“What else?” Straightening, I reach for my phone, not bothering to wait for the man to continue because I’ve already figured out the method to Galliano’s madness.
My fingers tremble as I fire up the surveillance app and scroll to the saved clips. The last one is from twenty-two minutes ago.
I scrub through footage of Emberly doubling over, clutching her temples, looking like she’s hyperventilating. Then she straightens and staggers to the door.
Alarm takes hold of my heart in a punishing grip. I want to tell her not to answer, but it’s already too late. She opens the door, and a tall figure steps inside.
He sweeps past Emberly, stares straight into the camera, and waves.
It’s Tommy Fucking Galliano.
SEVENTY
EMBERLY
My breath stills, and the minestrone lingering on my taste buds turns sour. I’d always suspected that Tommy would keep tabs on my location, but seeing him at my doorway instills me with chills.
He walks past me as though I’m invisible, stands in the middle of the living room, and waves up at a spot in the corner.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He whirls around. “You’re crying.”
I gulp. Something in his demeanor tells me that confiding in him would be dangerous. Especially about the man who murdered an entire branch of his family. Tommy is determined to save me from Roman.
“It’s nothing,” I say. “Just hormones.”
He cocks his head, his green eyes sparkling. “Just hormones.”
His perfect mimicry of my intonation makes me bristle, but I clench my teeth. Tommy was perfectly normal via video conferencing or on the phone. When I discovered Roman had stolen my inheritance, the lawyer called Tommy, saying he was my biological father’s close cousin.
In person, there’s an edge to him that makes my skin itch. His movements are stilted as though his flesh is too tight for his bones, and then there are the turtlenecks and cravats and the tight-fitting fabric that covers every inch of his body. What kind of man always wears white gloves?
Tommy had been pleased to meet me and had spoken of Frederic Capello’s relentless search for his stolen daughter. He offered me safe passage to New Jersey, where he said Roman would never venture.
Now, I’m wondering why he’s come to visit moments after Roman just left. His presence here is too much of a coincidence.
“It’s not hormones.” Tommy advances on me, his eyes narrowing. “Montesano is trying to worm his way back into your life so he can steal the baby.”
Swallowing, I back against the wall, still holding the door open.
“Your usefulness to him will end the moment you birth your son. Then he will hand you over to Cesare for torture and execution.”
My pulse quickens, my breath shallows, and spots appear on the edges of my vision. Roman wanted to save my life, not end it. If he wanted me dead, he had more chances than I can count.
He flashes a mouthful of brilliant white teeth. “You don’t believe me.”
“Roman might be a liar, but he never physically hurt me,” I murmur. “Besides, the baby isn’t even his.”
Tommy’s arm springs out, and his gloved hand closes around my throat. I gasp, my eyes widening, but the air is already cut off. Struggling against his hold, I grab his fingers, trying to pry them off my neck, but his grip is too tight.
“I know everything about you, Emberly Kay,” he sneers through artificial teeth. “Everything, including your due date. Your OB-GYN is in my pocket and reports directly to me. I’ve instructed her not to keep digital records of your pregnancy to force Montesano to continue crossing into my territory to check on your well-being.”
My heart thrashes against my ribcage like a trapped bird, and the edges of my vision turn black. “Why?”
