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I could admit what happened and that I needed Marco.
Or I could deny it, and he’ll find out what happened anyway because Marco is nothing if not loyal to Dante.
So instead, I use the information I acquired to try and get more.
“Paulie wanted to sell me?”
Wrong choice.
Wrong fucking choice.
“Paulie?” he asks, and I don’t answer. “What did Paulie say?” His voice is dangerous, and the way it sounds, I sure as fuck wouldn’t want to be Paulie right now.
But honestly, I wouldn’t want to be Dante right now when this anger is burning in me.
“Not much because my bodyguard stepped in.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you had one, isn’t it?” he says, crossing his arms on his chest. There’s a small smile on his face, a smirk, but it doesn’t hide the fury and anger burning underneath.
Good.
Because I’m fucking furious as well.
I stand, staring at him, trying to decide how or if to respond, how not to scream at him and scratch his eyeballs out, which is what I really want to do right now.
“Obviously, there was a good reason to give you a bodyguard, Delilah.”
“You could have talked to me about it.”
“And what, had you pissed off at me and trying to find ways to sneak around it just to prove a point?” I kind of hate that he’s not wrong.
“It doesn’t matter! I should have known! You could have told me what Paulie was planning, that there was something—"
“I know who you are, Delilah Turner,” he says, and something about his words makes me stop. They mean . . . more. I poke my tongue out, licking my lips. “I know who you are and not because my dumb-as-nails nephew told me a mayor’s daughter was working at the club.” He steps closer to me, forcing me to tip my chin up to look at him.
What does he know?
How much does he know?
We both live in this chaotic web of lies and half-truths, and now we’re trying to figure out which threads will strangle us.
He knows I’m Shane’s daughter. Knows I came not just to settle a debt, but to try and take down his family for what they did to my sister. He’s on board, allegedly, and working his own mission alongside me.
His mission to clean up the family and beat Paulie to the head.
But he doesn’t know . . .
His hand goes up into my hair, holding me there so I can't break his gaze. “You are the granddaughter of Alfredo Russo. Turner shouldn’t be your last name, but that doesn’t matter. We’ll be changing that soon enough.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His hand tightens in my hair, strangely bringing me back down to earth, adding some surety to my footing.
“I know who you are, Delilah Russo.” Blood drains from my face.
I play it off, of course.
I was trained for this moment, raised for it, to combat any bad press with a sweet smile. I keep my face neutral, my body already knowing how to control my breaths, but that facade can’t last long, not when he’s looking at me like this, spilling secrets and revealing everything.
“Paulie, he doesn’t know. He’s too stupid to keep his ears open, keep his eyes open. He’s so fucking lost on trying to win over Carmine, trying to beat me, that he can’t see what’s in front of him. A woman who isn’t here to settle debts. A woman who is here to tear him down.” My pulse races, my stomach sick. I want to step back, to run, anything, but that hand in my hair holds tight, keeping my face staring at his, which is dark and serious.
