Page 49 of The Man with a Treasure

Inside the Giordano home, I went into the leader’s office. “Good afternoon.” I was disappointed to see the three older brothers present, all staring at me. Especially Lorenzo, who was silently spilling hatred for me. I didn’t give a fuck. Smirking at him in return, I lifted my chin. “Problem?”

Lorenzo sneered, “Do not speak English in this house.”

Not only did I refuse to follow a direct order from a wanna-be in charge Giordano, I actually replied with, “Let me get this straight. For years now, I have been working on a language I need to speak to save your niece, yet it is not good enough for your privileged ears?”

Mr. Giordano warned, “Angelo. Enough.”

Yes, I was being disrespectful and ruffling the high tension in the room, but I had my reasons.

From behind his desk, the elder stood and asked Lorenzo, “What is this about?”

“Papa, how am I to know? I do not speak that foul language.”

Lorenzo claimed to not know English, but the way his jaw locked at my insult, I knew he was a liar. I knew, someday, he would be the recipient of my razored wings.

Mr. Giordano rested his fists on his desk and leaned forward like a Silverback Gorilla. “Angelo is claiming you have an issue with the language he needs to save a Giordano family member. Is this true?”

I stood my ground, staring down his son, wondering how he was going to talk himself out of what I had just exposed.

Apparently, Lorenzo was going straight for the kill—money. “It cost us hundreds of thousands of dollars to find Isabella—”

His father snarled, “And now she is back in our arms.”

Lorenzo raised his voice, “And you think we will be that lucky twice? Papa!”

He pointed to the ceiling. “God will bring that girl back to me.”

Lorenzo practically rolled his eyes. “That seems unlikely since she is most likely dead. Isabella gave her a knife to use if ever attacked.”

Only Suits and Mr. Giordano were privy to that information. That told me Lorenzo had a Suit on his ‘personal’ payroll. Now, I needed to know why.

The answer would come soon. Lorenzo, on a roll of his own, couldn’t seem to stop digging himself deeper. “Since Scar was in the care of traffickers, that knife was put to use. You think those men would let her live after that?”

My stomach tightened. Mrs. Rossi was right. “How did you know her nickname is Scar?”

Lorenzo jolted before he caught himself and played dumb. “What are you talking about?”

My skin began to boil. “Do you know where she is?”

“Angelo!” Mr. Rossi warned.

Lorenzo gestured to me. “Papa, you see? You don’t have a chance at finding Scarlett with this imbecile. He is now accusing me of knowing Scarlett’s whereabouts. Why, because I have overheard my sister calling her daughter this?”

Mr. Giordano was paling by the second as he looked at me. “You better have a damn good reason for what you are proposing. Because of who your father was, I will give you one chance to explain before I order a bullet in your head.”

I had surrendered my life to his family, trying to save his granddaughter, yet he was willing to end my life. It reminded me of my place, and what I would always be to this family.

A hired gun.

That stung. Now, I had to fight for my own life so that I could save Scarlett’s. “Sir, I apologize for any disrespect, but Isabella, only moments ago, had a memory of the nickname Scarlett’s captors call her. His already knowing this information caught me off guard.”

Horror etching his face, Mr. Giordano looked to his son.

Lorenzo lifted his hands. “Papa, I may be many things that do not please you, but I am not in the business of selling humans, nor would I stand by and do nothing for my niece if I knew her location. The reason I am aware of this nickname is because,” he exhaled, “I have been listening in on all of Isabella and Angelo’s conversations.”

I growled, “Those are private.”

Lorenzo lifted a brow. “You believe this?” He sneered, “Nothing you do on this property is private. You are a Giordano employee.”