Page 31 of Savage Don

“He’ll want to know where I’ve been. He has ways of getting me to talk. I’ll never be able to go to school again. He’ll have my records expunged. My grades erased. All I’ve worked for will be set on fire…”

“Why does he have to know about school?”

“He’ll want to know where I was!” Francesca snaps. “And I can’t just tell him that I’ve—”

I can see the idea hit her like a freight train. Those dimming hazel eyes brighten up like lightbulbs. I can’t hold back my wicked glee.

“What is it, kitten?”

“I’ve been kidnapped,” she says, chewing down on her tongue. “Yeah, that’s it. I’ve been kidnapped. I can’t go home!”

“You haven’t been kidnapped. And I’m not holding you hostage. In fact, I’d rather you leave as soon as possible. Like I said, I’m a very busy man.”

“No. Please. Listen. Just… Just let me stay here for a few days. Then, I’ll wander home and say some Russians kidnapped me.”

“It can’t be the Russians,” I say, shaking my head to hide how happy I am with the direction this is going. “They are my allies.”

“Alright. It was the Greeks.”

“They’re on our side now, too.”

“Shit,” Francesca mumbles. “You weren’t kidding when you said the Italians were at the bottom of the barrel.”

“What if you say you were kidnapped by some Italians?” I mindlessly suggest.

“Italians?” Francesca tilts her head to the side and a lock of dark raven hair falls over her perfect face. Fuck. She’s so pretty and naïve. I could almost feel bad for manipulating her like this. “The Italians would never betray my father like that.”

“Like I said,” I shrug, “Your father has been keeping you in the dark. He’s at odds with the other Italian families over what to do next. It wouldn’t defy logic that they might try to get the upper hand by taking you.”

For a second, I think I might have been too forward. Francesca’s dark brows furrow as she studies me with what could be construed as suspicion. But then her eyes fall as if she’s just remembering something.

“… Or I could blame someone close to home,” she sneers. Fuck. Her sneer is even hotter than her suspicion.

“Like who?”

“The men who guard my bedroom,” Francesca hisses, staring up at me with those sharp hazel eyes. My cold heart stirs as we stare at each other.

“You would betray them?”

“Betray them?” Francesca spits. “They aren’t my friends. I hate those assholes. I swear half of them are just there to leer over me. I’m more afraid of them than I am of any frat boy. Meanwhile, the other half of those pigs are sleeping with my step-mom on the side. It’s the only reason they’ve bothered to stick around without regular pay. I guess she knows how to keep them happy.”

Without meaning to, Francesca sends an ice-pick piercing through my stirring heart.

I know her step-mom well—at least, I once thought I did. But Francesca doesn’t need to know about that. Not yet. Hell, maybe not ever.

So, instead, I tug on my sleeves and shake my head clear.

“They aren’t getting paid?” I ask, latching onto another subject.

“I guess not,” she shrugs. “That’s what I’ve overheard, at least.”

That would make so much fucking sense, and it would give Domenico an immediate motive for selling us out to the feds. Money.

“And that didn’t tip you off that maybe your father wasn’t as powerful as he claimed to be?”

“I had other things on my mind, alright?”

“Like school?”