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The confession.
“So what was it?” I ask, moving forward, stepping until I’m in front of the back of the luxurious leather chair, leaning my hands on the backrest. I tip my head to the side. “The fact that she didn’t want to settle for a Carluccio or that you knew if he was around, there would be no way to get to me? Leverage me?”
He smiles, taking me in.
“You’re smarter than I thought.”
“I think you probably underestimate women all the time.” He stares for long moments.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Teresa.”
Interesting.
“She’s going to be my mother-in-law. Lots to plan, you know.”
“Drop the games, Delilah. We both know you’re not going to marry Paulie.”
“And why is that?” How much does he know?
“Because you’re just using it as an excuse to spend time with the men. To lure them to your side. You’re working your way in, trying to win over Paulie’s men. My men.”
“Carmine—”
“Did the Russos put you up to it? Was that the plan all along? Was the whole long-lost granddaughter shit all a bit you’ve been playing up?
“Paulie’s too fucking stupid to see it. Can’t see past the potential of marrying a fuckin’ Russo to see what a shit show this is. Can’t see past his own fuckin’ ego, trying to be big man. But I see it. You want to take over.”
There’s no turning back now.
I try and think of what Dante would do in the position, how he would respond.
So I smile a cocky smile.
“So am I succeeding? At winning over the men?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and not confirming nor denying his accusation.
He stands from his desk, the chair scraping back angrily before he’s moving around it, stopping five feet from me.
I straighten, the smile still playing on my lips but my pulse rising.
Panic flooding my system.
This can’t be good.
The look on his face is like a cat who properly cornered a mouse that’s been taunting him for weeks.
“Well, you have a large bruise on your jaw from my grandson, but he has a larger one from one of his men who hit him after he put you in your place.”
I lick my lips.
Panic continues to rise, and Carmine comes closer.
He raises a hand, lowering one finger.
“Dante’s men were yours as soon as they saw you on that pole like the whore you are.”
“I don’t—” He takes a step closer and lowers another finger.
“Paulie was fucking Dario’s wife, and you conveniently let that little bit slip.”
