Page 10 of Beautiful Villain
He was gone before I finished the sentence.
I looked down at her again, at the terror flickering into confusion as she tried to read my face.
“You picked the wrong street,” I said.
Her voice was barely sound.“I didn’t pick anything.”
“No,” I agreed.“I imagine you didn’t.”
Her eyes widened.
“You know who I was supposed to marry,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
“And you know he’ll be looking for me.”
“Yes.”
Her shoulders stiffened, like each answer tightened the snare instead of loosening it.“And you’re still keeping me here.”
“Yes.”
Her breath hitched, like she’d finally reached the edge of something and found nothing solid beneath her.Her voice cracked when she spoke again.
“Are you going to take me back to him?”
“No.”
She stared at me, searching my face for the hidden clause.
“Why not?”
For the first time since I’d dragged her into my life, something close to amusement stirred.Not warmth or kindness.Just interest.Satisfaction.
“Because,” I said evenly, “he will tear the city apart looking for you.”
I watched the colour drain from her face as the truth settled in.She understood that kind of rage.She’d lived inside its orbit.
“And,” I added, unhurried, “I want to watch him fail.”
4
Gianni
“How did it go with the witnesses?”I asked as I stepped into the converted meeting room.
Enzo, Larry, and Dunn were already there, spread out like they’d been waiting to deliver a group presentation titledWhy This Isn’t Our Problem Anymore.
“It’s a good thing those devout Catholics don’t look too kindly on Russians,” Dunn said, flicking his lighter.On.Off.On.Off.
I hated that habit.Deeply.Passionately.
“They’d rather shake hands with a nice Italian boy like yourself—theirwords, not mine—than the Russian outsider,” he continued.“Better the devil you know, and all that moral gymnastics.”
“And you’re sure no one saw anything?”I asked.
Which, translated loosely, meant that no one wanted to remember seeing anything.
