Page 57 of Blue in the Deep Blue Sea

“Then you know I’m his only son.”

“Not his only one.” He laughed. “But your family secrets aren’t mine to tell.”

I swallowed hard.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” He turned the gun sideways, then looked at George. “He didn’t know?”

He laughed again.

“George. Tell him.”

George swallowed, his eyes drifting to me. I didn’t know who he feared more, the man standing beside him or me standing in front of him, but he spoke anyway.

“Gianni De Luca,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sofia De Luca got pregnant around the same time as your mother.”

“You’re lying.” I took a step back, forcing myself to stand straighter.

George shook his head.

“You see, Sinclair,” the captain said, “I had no trouble making Gianni disappear, and I can do the same to you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Your father has no say in any of this. Neither does my brother, Andrea.”

My stomach twisted.

For the first time, the truth hit me square in the face.

He’d just admitted Gianni was dead. My brother.

Gianni was my brother?

I swallowed, a cold sweat breaking across my forehead as I forced myself to stay composed, refusing to let him see even a flicker of fear. I held his gaze, scanning every movement, calculating every possible way out.

But there wasn’t one.

The Mediterranean surrounded us on all sides, the storm closing in by the minute. I had nowhere to run.

“Then shoot me.” I spread my arms, my right hand tapping the left side of my chest. “Right here.” My voice came through the bridge. “Kill me now.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

He clicked his tongue, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin.

“That would be too easy. Then I’d have no one to blame.”

He lifted the gun beside his temple, tapping one side of his head with the barrel while rubbing the other with a finger.

“And I still need your yacht to find something I lost thirteen years ago.”

He lowered his hand, stepped back, and leaned against the console lined with computers. Smacking his lips, he finally spoke.

“Your mother… she was an artist I hired to duplicate some beautiful paintings we’d stolen.” He sighed. “She painted each copy beside the original to make sure every brushstroke matched. Perfect enough to fool anyone.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Then I found out two paintings had disappeared.”

A beat of silence sat between us.