Niccolo scoffed. “I told you, you’re his favorite pet.”
“And you’re mine. That’s why you still live despite all the enraging things you say.”
Niccolo snapped his mouth shut and locked his jaw. At least he finally shut up.
When we pulled onto the airstrip of the small private airport, the private jet was already parked there, but the doors were still closed. I got out when the door opened. A tall bodyguard scanned the area and gave me a nod before he began his descent, followed by Flavia Lamorgese. I didn’t know what name she had picked as an alias, and it didn’t matter. She couldn’t run from her last name, nor could Luciano. Their blood determined their future. They were as inevitably bound to the Camorra as I was.
Flavia leveled her terrified eyes on me. She didn’t know about the fate of her boy yet, only that the exchange had happened a few hours ago. She didn’t wear makeup and wore her hair in a short bob, very unlike the woman I remembered. Her thick coat and boots were better suited to the weather in Minneapolis than in Los Angeles. Maybe she still thought she’d return to her apartment. I had already told my men to start moving her few belongings from the place, and they had packed them into two small bags inside the jet.
When the bodyguard moved aside, Flavia rushed toward me, her face twisting with despair. She stumbled against me, her fingers grabbing my fur coat. “Is he safe?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
I removed her grip from my clothes, not fond of her closeness. “He is in Romano Manor with Amelia. He’s physically unharmed except for a few scratches and bruises. I can’t attest to his emotional state, though.”
She let out a high-pitched sob and threw her arms around me. “Thank you.”
I stiffened. My pulse spiked, and the need to lash out brutally rose in me, but I simply gripped her wrists and pushed her away. Niccolo wrapped an arm around her and pulled her away. “Let’s get you into the car so you can get to your son.”
He slanted me a cautious look, and I gave him a grateful nod. The sound of a jet taking off from another airstrip made Flavia jump, as if someone were about to attack us.
Niccolo steered her toward the back door.
I sat down in the front with Flavia in the back seat. On our way to the manor, I fixed her with a hard look in the rearview mirror. “You won’t be returning to Minneapolis, and you won’t leave Los Angeles without my permission ever again.”
She swallowed but gave a terse nod. She looked like she would have agreed to anything at that moment. It usually took hours of torture to get people to this point, but I supposed she would have gladly suffered torture to save her son.
“You and your son have a target on your heads, even if you change your name or pretend you’re a bartending single mom. This poses a threat to the Camorra and Amelia’s happiness, which is why I can’t allow it.”
She tilted her head with a puzzled look. “How’s Amelia?”
“You can ask her yourself,” I clipped. “I expect you to move into the house I pick and accept the bodyguards I send you. You won’t work unless it’s something I approve, and you’ll get the money you need to live a luxurious life.”
“I don’t have to move back into the manor?”
“No, it’s Amelia’s and my home.”
She smiled in a way that suggested she wasn’t happy at all. “I doubt Amelia sees it as that. She despises that place as much as I do.”
I gritted my teeth. “Your opinion on the matter is of no importance.”
She pressed her lips together and leaned her head against the window, wrapping her arms around herself. “Just tell me that you made them suffer.”
“Your husband’s chimps ripped them apart,” I said.
Her eyes grew wide, then a small smile played across her face. “Good. Those beasts terrified me. I know these men had horrible last moments. I wish I could have seen it.”
“There’s footage of their ripped-apart bodies on almost every news station. Search the internet,” Niccolo said.
Flavia smiled. “I’d like to see it later.”
Niccolo raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect you to take me up on the offer.”
“I was Achille’s wife.”
Flavia and I exchanged a look. She, too, had suffered under Achille Lamorgese’s hand, which was why I didn’t dislike her as much as I should for helping Amelia hide from me.
“You are his wife,” I reminded her. “He’s still alive.”
Her face fell, eyes lighting up with dread.
