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Don't bother. I'm fucking illegible.
“Can we talk yet?” he asked. He was shirtless, and gray sweatpants hugged his hips. He’d worn that on purpose. Without an answer, he walked in and pushed me over so he could sit on the bed. He grabbed my hand, unwrapping the peeling tape, and looked at the cut on my palm. “We gonna talk about what happened?”
“Which part?” I snapped, still riding my anger over the scene in my mind.
“All of it,” he said as he pulled some antibiotic ointment and a bandage from his pocket. He started to dress the tear in my skin. “We committed quite the murder. Well...murders.”
“Who was that guy?”
“Mr. Arnold. An independently wealthy man with no real ties to any of us. He liked to invest. He shouldn't have invested in the Irish, though. No-good pricks. But he was a very influential man, and his death is going to make waves.” Enzo swallowed hard. “But you did what you had to do.”
“Do you really think so?” I dropped my gaze.
“It was either your knife or my bullet. No matter what, he was going to be dead for trying to fuck you.”
I found it interesting he talked about who wanted to fuck who when I saw what I saw. He had some nerve to care about who was going to fuck me when it sure as hell wasn’t him who was fucking me that night he played around with some whore.
“You care so much about who was trying to have sex with me, but not about you cheating on me?”
“Gia—” he said in a stern tone, but I cut him off.
“If you didn't fuck with that girl, Enzo, what were you doing in the hotel room with her?”
“It's not anif,Gia. I didn't.” He scolded me with his expression. “But anyway, I broke into their office. The O'Rileys are laundering, which is no real surprise. But...” He shook his head. “What had me worked up was that they were or are still somehow involved with the Bianchi family.”
My jaw dropped open.Bullseye? The one rotting in the lake? Oh god.That meant Jameson definitely had too much on us, something very big that he could dangle over our heads for as long as we lived. And if he told anyone? We'd be fucked. After what happened last night, I was certain he'd tell someone. Anyone.
“What are we going to do about Jameson?” I asked after a long pause.
“Well, I could buy his silence with what he's been drooling over...or we can kill him.” Enzo shrugged. “Or do nothing and hope he keeps our secret for us. I'll kill him before I let him fuck you, so it's either that or nothing.”
“Fuck him? It’d be fair, right?” The words came out harsher than I intended. In Silvani fashion, I took a stab when I saw an opportunity to do so. He made me feel stupid, like I was crazy and overreacting, but Isawthe picture. Nothing in his expression in the image looked like the rejection he claimed it was. I wasn’t stupid, and I refused to be led on. Being alone would have been better than having this constant movie playing in my mind, wondering if it was fiction or not. I didn’t trust anyone easily, and I realized why. Not a single man I’d been with had earned it and kept it.
Enzo’s lips tightened, his cheeks flushing red with anger. “Is that what you want? To whore around with that Irish prick?”
“I just think it’s my goddamn decision. Doing nothing isn’t an option. Killing him is fucking unwise. If he wants me, let him have me. Such is this life, remember?” I didn’t want to sleep with that piece of shit, but I was so fucking mad at Enzo—or the situation. I couldn’t tell any longer. I just said what I could to hurt him. “Besides, you didn’t give a damn about me in those pictures.”
Enzo rose to his feet and leaned over me with fire in his eyes. I had pushed him past the point of anger and into some world where I was suddenly the enemy again. “If only you knew how untrue that was. Fucking Silvani. Goddamn hypocrite.” He spit the words at me.
I kept my chin up, unwilling to cow to him. Yes, I was a goddamn Silvani.
* * *
Enzo couldn’t even lookat me as we walked to the car. I got in and crossed my arms over my chest. He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel and tightened them. I recognized the old hatred that simmered between us when I first got to their home. The toxic sexual chemistry had dissipated, replaced by anger and mistrust. But I wouldn’t apologize, and he sure as shit wouldn’t, either. We were much too stubborn, which was a trait bred into us.
It was a stalemate.
We were stupid for ever thinking what we had could work, that we could sleep with the enemy and somehow be a happy goddamn family. Wewereenemies, and we’d always end up that way, one way or another.
We were finished, and that was the way it had to be.
Bile churned in my stomach at the prospect of sleeping with Jameson. I’d handled worse, but I thought Enzo would be the last person I’d have to give myself to. No one could or would fuck me like he did. When Enzo degraded me, it made him uneasy because of how much he disagreed with the things I wanted him to say. That made me come that much harder. But I felt obligated to do what I was planning to do. Jameson knew something that would get me and Enzo killed, regardless of whether we were together or apart. I hadn’t pulled the trigger, but I was still a part of it. I was doing it for myself. For my family. And a little for Enzo, too. Alittle.
We drove over familiar roads on our way back to the casino. I offered to go myself but even when he loathed the blood coursing through my veins, he refused to let me go alone. I told myself it would be quick and easy. Jameson had always been hard for me, so I didn’t expect him to last more than a few minutes. It would be transactional.
We walked into the hotel, assaulted by the sounds of machines ringing and murmurs of people all around us. Lights flashed, tantalizing my senses. The ambience almost made me feel high.
I followed Enzo to the presidential suite at the end of the hall, and he knocked, folding his arms across his chest as he avoided my gaze. Jameson answered the door with a tight smile.
