Page 31 of The Beast Who Begged Me

He’s smiling. Observing me. “You really are determined to make an enemy of me, and I have no idea why.”

“You made yourself my enemy, Don Morelli. You did it when you—or your husband, as I’m led to believe now—killed my grandfather. You created a blood debt that must be paid.”

“Orsini thought the same of you,” he says after a moment.

“Dami has nothing to do with this,” I retort before I catch myself. But he can see his hit landed.

“You say all these things,” he drawls at last, “about blood debts and vengeance, when you don’t really mean them. Why is that, Cal? Why pretend you care about your grandfather?”

I won’t dignify that with a response. “Why did you take his ring?”

He leans back in his own seat, elbows on the arms, and links his fingers casually. “To keep his heir from doing exactly what you’ve done, and try to resurrect a Family better left dead. But I see now that you’re determined.”

“I have a duty,” I agree.

“Is that all that drives you? Your grandfather was a force to be reckoned with, Cal. He clung to old ways and older grudges. And he had pride. More than that—arrogance. You have it too.” I lift my chin, but I keep my mouth shut. “But you have other qualities,” D’Amato allows. “A clever mind. A will to survive. And you have the Giuliano Enforcer’s undivided attention, which is a very, very interesting thing indeed.”

“He’s not a Giuliano anymore. And stop bringing Dami into this,” I add sharply.

“I am not the one who brought him into this,” he counters. “And I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but I’d advise you to figure it out. Fast. A lot of people want you dead, Cal, and he may well prove your last defense against a six-foot hole.”

It’s too close to the things Dami was saying to me last night in the dining room to be a coincidence. I smile at him shamelessly. “Thank you for your advice, Don Morelli. May I ask what you intend to do with my ring?”

He slides a hand into his shirt pocket and takes out the familiar piece. Thick. Gold. The band is inscribed with scales, a large ruby set in the snake’s head, two diamonds for its eyes. The snake bites down its own tail.

The ouroboros ring.

He hangs it around the white king’s crown. Cautiously, watching him the whole time, I reach out for it. He doesn’t snatch it away at the last second. Doesn’t even say anything.

I pick it up and turn it over in my hands, then look up at him. I don’t put it on. Not yet. That’s for the ceremony. “Why?” I ask at last.

“Because an indebted Clemenza Family serves my purpose,” he says simply. “And here endeth the lesson—for today, anyway. I want you to meet Joe Alessi and Sal Rossi.”

“I’ve met them already.”

“Not as the head of your Family,” he says. “We’ll have dinner on Saturday night. Talk over territories. Work something out for you.”

“Why?” I ask again, wary as I take this in.

“Because we are at war,” D’Amato says. “And you’re more useful as an ally than an enemy. If you’ll accept my offer?”

He thinks I’ll be a useful puppet.

I return his smile, although mine is decidedly icier as I close my hand around the ring and squeeze it hard.

“Of course, Don Morelli,” I say, since I have no other choice. “I accept your generous offer.”

For now.

CHAPTER 12

DAMIANO

The first thing I did when I had a second alone in this place was to put what’s left of Seb Conti into the deep freeze under a shoulder of lamb, where hopefully neither the D’Amatos nor Rosa will be looking any time soon. I don’t know why I’m holding onto it, but when I think about just throwing it out with the trash or even burning it, it feels wrong.

So I left it there in the freezer to give me time to think.

This morning, after I left Caligula asleep in bed, I went down and took out Sebastiano Conti’s flayed skin, and tried to imagine what he’d tell me to do.