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“Did the influence of the illustrious Lucien Esposito make you grow into the woman you were always meant to be?” he said, his voice barbed.
“I can fight my own battles,” I said.
He raised his wine glass slightly. “You are a woman made of steel, Mrs. Olivia Esposito. I admit I hadn’t anticipated that. Now, you want answers. So let’s give you some answers.”
He pushed back his chair and every muscle in my body went taut. His brow crooked as if he found my fear amusing. Irritated, I raised the wine glass and took a sip. He rounded his chair and walked to the curtain on the wall beside him. The wine touched my lips, smooth and rich, and the curtain drew back to reveal a painting of my husband.
I gaped.
Then I rose, barely realizing what I was doing, and moved closer.
No, that wasn’t my husband.
The painting was of three men, one in his forties and the other two young. The older man sat languishing in a velvet chair, sitting the way Lucien did with his arrogant eyes facing forward and his knees spread. His hand, decorated with a single wedding band, rested on his thigh.
To his right was a slender teenage boy, dark hair slicked back and big, black eyes gazing into nothing. His jaw was locked, like he would have rather been anywhere else in the world.
Duran.
To his other side stood my husband. Young, without the tattoos that reached to the base of his throat and down his hands. Without the scars.
His face wasn’t as angular and his hair was slicked neatly back, but otherwise he looked the same. Just…without the thousand yard stare I knew so well.
A shudder moved down my spine.
“I wouldn’t have trusted him,” Riccardo said thoughtfully.
“What?” I whispered.
Riccardo’s mouth curled in a sneer. “He was always a snake, your husband. Even when he was a little boy, just waiting and watching everyone like they were nothing but his next meal. I warned his father not to trust him, I warned him to get rid of him while he still could.”
My jaw went slack. “What—who the fuck are you?”
He turned, narrowing his gaze up at the painting. “I was his father’s right hand and I was meant to inherit his place. Before he was killed, under very mysterious circumstances, he had his will redone to exclude Lucien. I would succeed him.”
Everything was making more sense. Eyes on my captor, I circled the table and sank back down into my chair. My hands shook as I clenched them and buried them in my lap.
“And you found out?” I whispered.
Riccardo raised a brow, studying me coldly. “That Lucien killed his father in cold blood, destroyed his will and forged another, and sent me away? Yes, it was clearly him. It’s not like Duran would have thought of such a thing, he was always the stupid one. The spare.”
I swallowed. Silence fell and Riccardo took his seat at the head of the table.
“What...what do you want?” I asked, shaking my hair back. Straightening my shoulders and tilting my chin up. “Money? We can give you that.”
He cocked his head, his mouth twisting.
“So quick to fold, Mrs. Esposito,” he said. “I’d heard you were made of sterner stuff.”
I narrowed my gaze. “I have children. I want to go home.”
“In due time,” he said. “And, this is really nothing personal to you. You just happen to be the thing your husband loves most in this world. You are his weakest point…his only weak point.”
“Will you kill me?” I whispered.
He gazed at me for a long time, the grandfather clock in the hallway ticking. It struck and shuddered through the house. His eyes snapped from me and he cleared his throat and set his napkin aside.
“You should get some rest,” he said. “We’ll go see your husband soon.”
