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The bedroom door opens, and a woman appears, silhouetted in the doorway, draped in a silk robe that clings to her curves. In one hand, she holds a glass of red wine, swirling it lazily as she surveys the scene before her.
She stops dead when she sees me.
“You,” she hisses. She draws in a breath to call her guards but I choke her lover a little, make him arch his back.
Don’t, I mouth.
The man in my arms chuckles as he struggles to breathe. “What a nice surprise,Bellissima,” he pants out when I let him. “He’s exactly what I was in the mood for.”
“Let him go,” La Contessa says in English, her eyes—so like Sandro’s—drilling into me.
I release her lover, and he looks over his shoulder at me, surprised.
“Andreas, get out,” La Contessa snaps in Italian, her gaze never leaving mine. He pouts but obeys, slipping out of the room with one last lingering glance at me. The door closes behind him with a soft click. “I did not think I could want you dead any more than I already do,” she says coolly. “And yet you prove me wrong.”
I just smile, cross my legs, and pat the bed next to me.
She stares a moment more before she comes over and sits at the foot of the bed. Cautious, but not cowardly. I do admire Sandro’s mother, despite hating her.
“What do you want?” she asks.
“I want to know if you killed my mother.”
She doesn’t bother hiding her surprise this time. “Killed your father’s whore? Why would I waste my time? Ciro was a fool, and that was useful to me, whether he was married to me or not. As for your mother, that little—“
“Careful,” I say softly. “Call her names again,signora, and I might be forced to defend her honor.”
“I had no reason to kill her,” she says after a moment, with a smile that’s more a sneer. “Sandro’s inheritance was assured. That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”
I tilt my head to one side as I consider her words. “Sandro’s inheritance was not assured. Ciro wanted me to take over. You knew that.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ciro’s lapse in judgment came much later. And anyway—your mother drowned herself.”
“You know as well as I do that she was murdered.”
“I know nothing of the sort. All that nonsense was long after I left Ciro. Now, tell me, assassin,” La Contessa purrs. “How did you get past my guards? I’d like to know so I can inform them before I execute them for incompetence.”
“Oh, you can’t blame them,” I tell her. “There are few places I can’t enter when I’mreallydetermined.”
“You frightened poor Andreas half to death.”
“He didn’t seem scared to me. But one more question and I’ll leave you to comfort him. Did you happen to have Vincenzo Esposito killed?”
“Vincenzo who? I’ve never heard of him.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. “He was an Enforcer for the Esposito Family.”
“Ah, that’s why I don’t recognize the name.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I have no interest in the petty rivalries of Los Angeles. I’m only here to attend a friend’s wedding.”
“I see.” I don’t waste time asking her to tell me this “friend’s” name.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to return to my evening,” she says. “Unless you are here to kill me. In which case—“
“No, no,” I assure her, rolling off the bed. “Sandro would never forgive me. And I have no desire to upset my big brother.”
“Speaking of Alessandro…” La Contessa shifts her gaze to the floor, feigning vulnerability. “I would appreciate you keeping my visit to Los Angeles to yourself. I haven’t let him know I’m here. He made such a fuss about it last time, and I don’t want him to think I’m interfering.”
“Oh,” I say, my eyes never leaving hers. “So you really are here for a wedding?”
