AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If Roman has red flags, then the predator prowling toward me is a flashing neon sign. There’s no appropriate response to a suggestion like that, so I turn on my heel and run.
His laughter echoes behind me, but I don’t stop moving until I’m on the other side of the pool where Dominic and his colleague wait for me with matching grins.
“See anything you like?” the taller one asks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“There’s a woman in there, tied to some sort of bondage chair. I-Is she okay? Does she need help?”
I cringe the moment I say those words. I don’t know the ins and outs of BDSM, but I got horrible vibes from that guy. What if she’s there against her will?
The men double over as though I’m a one-woman comedy special. My cheeks flush, and I suppress a shudder. “Who was that man?”
“Cesare Montesano,” Dominic replies. “The youngest.”
“So? What was going on there didn’t seem safe, sane, or consensual. Someone needs to step in and make sure she’s okay. She was bleeding and wearing a gag.”
More laughter. Dominic’s face contorts with so much mirth that he looks like he’s in pain. Tears roll down his cheeks, making me wonder if I misread the scene. Maybe I’m projecting. In that woman’s position, I would be in a full-blown panic.
I head toward the mansion, making a mental note never to return to the pool house under any circumstances.
Everything is piling up, and I’ve had enough. In the space of twenty-four hours, I’ve been scammed, threatened with murder and assault, had a one-night stand with a mafia don fresh off death row, woken up in a locked room, cut myself while trying to leap off a balcony, seen footage of Jim and his backup wanting to drag me to jail, and now, I’ve been propositioned for kinky sex.
I’m no prude, but a girl’s got limits.
“Where are you going?” Dominic asks.
“Back to my room.”
Tomorrow morning, I’ll paint Roman’s portrait and as soon as I get my new ID, I’m getting far away from this madhouse.
EIGHTEEN
EMBERLY
I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening reliving the events of the crazy day and pacing my room like a caged tiger. Switching from looking out into the gardens to trying on every item of clothing Roman bought me, including the lingerie.
Everyone in the house thinks I’m a nutcase, except perhaps Cesare Montesano, who may or may not be a psychopath. I shouldn’t judge, considering this morning’s antics.
Roman is being incredibly patient with me, but it’s hard to trust his intentions. Mafia bosses aren’t white knights who help damsels in distress unless there’s some kind of angle. They’re not even morally gray. What I can’t work out is what exactly he wants from me.
Sofia delivers delicious home-cooked lasagna for dinner, which I pick at, along with two bottles of wine. In between sips, I surf the internet, trying to find anything that can help me figure out Roman’s game.
Recent news says an anonymous source submitted new video evidence to exonerate him from the murder of Ingrid Asher, a forty-five-year-old schoolteacher from Beaumont City. An article in the New Alderney Times said that his previous trial was fraught with corruption, evidence mishandling, witness tampering, and jury intimidation, which led to the false verdict.
I continue reading down to the comments section, where someone mentions the strange coincidence of Roman’s release from prison just days after the Capello massacre. Over fifty replies come from different people speculating on whether Frederic Capello died because he framed Roman, murdered his father, and stole his casino.
My mind races and my head spins. I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s speculation, but everyone seems to agree that Roman was framed. Anger burns through my chest, heating my blood. If the new evidence hadn’t come to light, Roman would have been executed in the electric chair.
“Shit,” I whisper. “How has he remained so sane?”
In his position, I would want to lash out at everyone, starting with anyone connected to the man who framed me for murder. None of the official articles will speculate on who wanted Roman behind bars, but I can’t help thinking about the mafia family that was massacred last week.
I spend the rest of the night sipping wine and watching a true crime documentary on YouTube about the conspiracy that confirms the speculation in the comments. Days after Roman’s father died of a heart attack while at the Phoenix nightclub, Roman was arrested for murder and held without bail. Then Casino Montesano was renamed the Capello Casino before undergoing huge-scale renovations and the building of a second hotel.
It doesn’t take a genius to work out that the Capello family took advantage of Enzo Montesano’s death so they could steal the casino. My only disappointment is that Roman wasn’t able to execute the revenge himself.
As the evening wears on and the wine runs dry, I gain a new understanding of Roman. He’s a man who has suffered injustice and wants to save me from the same. Maybe that’s all there is to his kindness.
My eyes fall shut and I drift into a dreamless sleep, determined not to allow myself to give into paranoia.
