Page 52 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

“Where did my father come in?” I growl.

“Oh, Marco Bellandini. He was a good man, but he began making too much noise about how Victor Caughn didn’t even exist, and when the ex-police commissioner found out, he threatened the promise I was holding on to. He said the only way was to frame Marco for contacting federal agents, claiming he planned to expose the entire association we had going on. I didn’t ask Dean to kill him, but we swore an oath to be bound in the association or be killed.”

My lips press into a thin line. It makes much more sense now.

“But I promise, I can help you find the man who created all of this chaos. Just let me go…”

“Oh yes, you’ll find the man,” I say menacingly, dragging him by his collar until we’re eye-to-eye. “Because if you don’t, I’ll be the one to end your already miserable life.”

With nothing left to say, I let Valente go, watching him scamper out of the shed. Then, I turn to Francesco.

“Put surveillance on him. We want to be sure he won’t run or pull something sketchy.”

Chapter seventeen

Elena

The smell of guanciale sizzling in a pan wafts through my nose, pulling me from sleep. It brings back old memories; Mother in the kitchen with a small apron around her waist while Bella and I ran around, shrieking excitedly.

That was a long time ago, but I half expect to see Mother smiling down at me when I open my eyes.

Instead, I’m staring at intricate frescoes painted on the ceiling above. My brow furrows. I turn my gaze to where Puddles should be fast asleep on the floor, but instead, he’s snuggled up in bed beside me. Then it clicks in my head. I’m still in Adriano Bellandini’s house.

My phone vibrates right at that moment. It’s an email from an unfamiliar address, and I almost ignore it, thinking it’s another death threat, but then my eyes catch something exciting.

It’s the email’s subject line: Partnership Proposal: Elané x Bourne Retail. My finger taps on it, and as my eyes scan through, excitement bubbles in my chest.

Yes!

I’d reached out to a number of large-scale retailers across Manhattan, proposing a profitable partnership deal, and the top person on my list, Isaac Bourne, just responded positively.

The email ends with a request for a meeting to sign the necessary MOUs.

How the hell do I get out of this fucking fortress now?

When Adriano left the house yesterday, I took the liberty of walking around, and I would have gotten completely lost if it weren't for Kristina, the house chef.

An idea pops into my mind. I could sneak out now that Adriano has probably left and Kristina is preparing her spaghetti carbonara in the kitchen.

Scrambling to my feet, I grab a drowsy Puddles and the leather duffel bag containing my clothes, which Adriano had brought with us.

Besides this deal, Enzo could wake up and demand to see me any day now. And if he finds out I’ve not been home… I shake my head. That’s not happening.

I turn the lock open and head out, only to run into Adriano pacing the hallway. He turns those piercing eyes toward me when he hears the door open.

He stands still for the longest moment, his eyes running over me in silent question. I swallow dryly.

“Thank you for accommodating me, but I need to get going.”

“Get back inside,” he snaps.

My brain is working faster than usual now, thinking of an excuse I can give. I need to leave this house as fast as possible.

“I need to see Enzo.”

He darts an indifferent look at me. “Enzo’s in one of the best hospitals in Manhattan. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Um...I-I have to attend meetings. I’m the face of my brand, you know. I can't just fail to show up.”