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“I know. I saw you.”
“I have no doubt. Up on your rooftop,” I sneered. “Alone. Eyes locked on your target, a cold-blooded sniper collecting a paycheck.”
Alessio flinched. “No, I saw you. The instant you got out of the car. You were—are—gorgeous. This beautiful man with thick dark hair and light eyes. I was distracted. Awestruck.” He lifted one shoulder. “And I missed.”
“Am I supposed to feel flattered?”
He rubbed his chest, touching the cornicello he always wore around his neck. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’m sorry, Giulio.”
Sorry? He was only sorry he was caught, that I’d discovered his secret. “Give me the rest of it. Who hired you to kill me? And you’d better not tell me you can’t reveal your clients again.”
“Enzo D’Agostino,” he said quietly. “Because I missed your father.”
I braced my palms on my father’s desk, my head hanging down in defeat. This was why he couldn’t tell me, and why the contract disappeared once Gia and Enzo fell in love. Gia and Frankie would lose their minds if Enzo had me killed, and both of their men wanted to keep their women happy.
Cazzo, how had I not put all this together?
I was a fool. I had loved this man and I was a fool for it.
My muscles shook with rage and agony. I was cursed. The first man I loved had blown up before my eyes, his flesh and bone raining down on a parking lot like confetti. The second man I loved had lied to me, kept a secret so big that I couldn’t forgive it.
Now my father knew. Zio Marco. Soon everyone would know what an idiot I was.
I slapped the desk with my palms. “And I fucking brought you here! To meet my family. I was so proud, so excited for them to meet you.” Red coated my brain, the anger filling my veins, carrying down to my bones. I barely knew what I was doing as I picked up an empty glass on my father’s desk and hurled it against the wall.
Shards of glass exploded and fell to the ground.
The door instantly opened and my father appeared in the doorway. His sharp gaze swept over me, ensuring I was alright.
Cristo santo, he must be so horrified by my choices. Would I ever not disappoint him?
I needed to be alone. I couldn’t take the pity in my father’s expression. Couldn’t handle the realization that I had failed again. That I wasn’t the perfect son and heir he’d dreamed of.
That I had loved a man who didn’t respect me enough for the truth.
Like I was in a daze, I started out of the room. There were decisions to be made, though, and I was a Ravazzani to my core. We always did what needed to be done, no matter how difficult.
Pausing by my father, I said, “I want him gone. Have him taken to the airport and put on a plane. I don’t care where.”
Alessio was suddenly on his feet. “Giulio, please. Give me time to explain.”
I ignored him. My chest had frozen over, a numb expanse that had no sympathy. No forgiveness.
I met my father’s gaze, so like my own. And I read his intentions there as clear as day. My stomach twisted at the possibility, and I said, “Do not have him killed.”
The lines surrounding Fausto’s mouth deepened with his frown. “Figlio, it’s the only—.”
“Do not have him killed, Papà,” I repeated. “He leaves, but he lives. Promise me. On the lives of your children.”
Oh, Fausto didn’t like that. Jaw stiff, he nodded once. “Te lo prometto.”
“Here is Nino Buscetta’s mobile.” I handed over the phone to my father. “Maybe your men can find something useful on it.”
Then I drew in a breath and faced the man I had loved for the last time. Alessio’s eyes begged me to reconsider, his expression pleading with me to talk this out. I ignored all of it. “Stay gone, sniper. Because if I see you, even suspect a hint of you in the breeze, I will find you and put a bullet between your eyes.”
“Giulio—”
“Save your excuses. You are dead to me, Alessandro Ricci.”
