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The heavy oak door swings open, and Tony enters my dimly lit living room.
I've invited him over to discuss the only truth I need to know that's been gnawing at me from within – Rosalie Battaglia and her safety.
"Thanks for coming, Tony," I say, gesturing for him to sit on the plush leather sofa across from me.
"Of course, boss. What's this all about?" Tony asks, his dark eyes searching mine.
He's been my closest confidant for years, providing me his unwavering loyalty and support through countless challenges.
"Rosalie," I begin, taking in a deep breath.
"You need to tell me everything you've found on her, Tony. She's been living under the alias Emily Jackson, but I believe there's more to her story."
"Rosalie? The daughter of the Don of the Battaglia family you told me to look into?"
Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my concern for the young woman. "Your enemy's daughter?"
"Yes," I say with a steely voice.
"Why?" he asks.
"You'll know when the time comes," I say.
Tony studies me for a moment, trying to understand my motivations.
He knows I don't usually get involved in matters like this.
His face is somber, and his eyes are concentrated as he pulls out some papers and studies the documents across his desk.
The weight of the room presses down on me like a vice, causing my heart to race.
"Tell me what you've found," I demand again, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Rosalie's father, the Don of the Battaglia family, killed her mother," Tony blurts out, cutting straight to the point.
My stomach drops at the revelation, and I brace myself against the edge of the desk to steady my shaking legs.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath. "Why would he do that?"
"According to our sources, her mother helped Rosalie escape an arranged marriage to Hunter Drucci.
When her father found out, he went into a rage and had his men kill her mother." Tony's voice is heavy with disgust, reflecting my feelings.
Suddenly, my world comes to a stop.
I feel like a complete fool not to have listened to the woman I love.
Of course, she'd run and hide.
The realization that Rosalie was raised by a father violent enough to kill his wife claws at me like an ugly truth I want to ignore.
It all comes back to me - when she told me she was running from a violent ex, why she was so independent, never accepting help.
How could she accept help when that would mean trusting me?
How could she trust when she'd probably been betrayed her whole life?
"You're not talking about Big Jim Hunter Drucci, are you?" I ask fear etched in my voice.
