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Something inside of me settled.
I was finally ready to embrace my role and this life.
To be content.
To stop clinging to some sort of misdirected hope.
Despite the fact that with every beat of my heart, the memories of her etched themselves deeper into my soul.
I would use the pain to fuel my determination. And to strengthen my power.
“Stay away from me,” I snarled, my voice laced with loathing. “And stay the fuck away from my mother.”
Fausto sneered but hopped down the barstool and took a step back. “You know, Gabriele, I could arrange a meeting with the Morettis…if you’re interested.” His eyes glittered like those of a predator.
His offer hung in the air between us, but his intention and the fact that it was a trap, surrounded it like the stench of rotting meat.
His suggestion was harmless enough.
And yet.
Intention had a smell.
And this smelled like Fausto was baiting me, luring me into a trap.
The seconds stretched as I studied his calculating gaze, searching for any hint of deception, waiting him out.
Toying with him.
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “The Morettis have a secret meeting with the other families planned in one of their hidden locations. I can get you in.”
I clenched my fists under the table for a split second before I suppressed the storm of emotions raging within me.
Part of me wanted nothing more than to kill him right here and now, but another part—the logical thinking part—wanted to know what kind of trap Fausto was laying for me.
Since Fausto was a sadistic bastard, I wanted to know how far he would go—would he want to watch me being killed by a rival family with a feud older than myself? However, that would be very straightforward for his conniving nature.
“Let me guess,” I said, keeping my voice low despite the bitterness coating my tongue. “You want something in return.”
“Exactly.” Fausto’s grin turned predatory. “A small favor, really. Just remember who helped you when the time comes,nipote.”
Oh, I would remember. Would remember everything.
As much as I despised the man standing before me, I couldn’t ignore the opportunity to gain valuable intel on my enemy. Let him set the trap—and let him step inside himself.
“Fine,” I conceded, gritting my teeth. “But this better work.” Trusting Fausto was akin to dancing with the devil, and I had no intention of being burned.
“Trust me,” he replied, the false sincerity dripping from his voice like venom. “You can make a powerful alliance with the Morettis if you play it right. And I will assist you.”
I nodded.
The moment he left, my thoughts raced.
Playing this game was like fighting with a double-edged sword—enticing yet laced with danger. I was reasonably certain Fausto’s intention was that the Morettis would eliminate me, clearing his path to seize control of the Falcone family.
But despite the risks, something inside of me was thrilled at playing this dangerous game, thrived at navigating these treacherous waters.
I owed it to my father and to my family. To drain this swamp. I would uncover the truth on my own terms without falling into Fausto’s web of deceit.
