Page 97 of Ruthless

Giovanni Argento is the last person I expect to find waiting for us, but after this disaster of a morning, I can’t say I’m surprised. I immediately burst into action, shoving Sara behind me and drawing my gun. A distressed Pistol whines from her spot at Papà’s feet while gnawing on the bone trapped between her paws. Most likely a gift from my father.

I glare at the dog. “Traitor.”

Gio studies me. “The woman…Angela…escaped while you two were gone.”

Beside me, Sara makes an unhappy noise.

The old man’s been avoiding my calls since before the museum benefit. According to the men I ordered to check on him, he hasn’t been home in weeks. Since he has no discernable reason to be here, my mind starts to work overtime. “Did Zanni send you?”

Scanning the foyer, I search for signs of Council soldiers lying in wait. Between Angela and the entirety of my staff at SilverTech, I can no longer trust anyone. When Gio steps toward us, I lift my gun. “Don’t.”

The flash of hurt in Papà’s eyes almost weakens my resolve. His tone softens into a whisper. “Are you really going to shoot me?”

The gun wavers for just a split second before I steady it again. I shrug as if the decision is an easy one. “I don’t think I have it in me to kill you, but if it means getting Sara out of here safely, I’m pretty sure I can, at the very least, put a bullet in your good knee.”

Instead of taking offense, my father chuckles. “You’ve always been stronger than that brother of yours. It’s been an honor to watch you grow into your role in this family. Though I’m certain you didn’t appreciate being forced to make all the decisions most days.”

Cautiously, I lower my gun, but I can’t bring myself to holster it just yet. “What game are you playing?”

“No game, boy.” Gio’s cane clacks as he hobbles over to us. From the table by the entry, he picks up a thick manila envelope and offers it to me. “Just an old man trying to do the right thing for once before he dies.”

His words stop me, and my grip on the gun falters again. I pass the envelope to Sara, and she unclasps the metal prongs. “Forged IDs, passports, birth certificates.” Sara glances up at me, her pretty eyes bright and wide with wonder and relief. “Even for Jeremy.”

I clear my suddenly clogged throat before gesturing at the door. “Grab our stuff and then get to the car.” When Sara hesitates, I squeeze her shoulder. “Hurry. Jeremy’s probably worried.”

After a brief hesitation, Sara caves and hurries away. Gio watches her go, tapping his cane thoughtfully, before leveling me with a stern stare. One look, and it’s like I’m seven again and he just caught me sneaking biscotti out of the pantry. “You loveher.” It’s a statement rather than a question, as if the old man can see it with his grief-strained eyes better than me.

“I do.” My soft affirmation surprises me almost as much as it surprises my father, but his face only shows the heartache of his understanding. He nods, scrubbing at his patchy stubble before turning away, limping toward the stairs, and lowering himself down with a groan. “It might be selfish, but I hope this is enough to buy me your forgiveness.”

I tuck my gun back in its holster. “Forgiveness for what?”

Nothing could have prepared me for his slumped shoulders and drooping mouth. “I’m the reason the Council hired Enzo to come after you.”

At first, I think I’ve misheard him.My father is the reason I was kidnapped and tortured for months?No, that can’t be right. “Papà? I-I don’t understand.” My broken whisper echoes in the entryway.

Gio releases a belabored sigh before settling his cane against the banister. “When the Contis first petitioned to join the Council,Iwas the one who argued they should be denied. I had certain…leverage in my possession that gave us an edge over their family, and I couldn’t afford to let that leverage go. It’s how I initially got around Council approval for marrying Dulce.”

I shift on my feet, frowning. “How did the Contis find out it was you who opposed them?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Best guess? Someone under the Council’s protection told them. They probably thought the Argentos and the Contis would destroy one another, which would make way for a new family to rise through the ranks and attain favor.”

Papà sneers. “Unfortunately for them, once your mother was killed, I wasn’t especially interested in the feud anymore. Instead of focusing on the Contis, I set my sights on the real threat. The Council.”

I’ve spent most of my life convinced Giovanni was little more than a coward after Mamma died, and now my chest aches with regret. It never occurred to me that he was fighting an invisible battle.

“When your mother stopped working for Enzo, one of her last art pieces was bought by a Councilman, Il Capitano. It took four long years, but I eventually learned his real name was Claudio Bianchi. It was easy enough to arrange his death. The plan was to pick through each of the Councilmen one by one after that, but you and your brother were getting older, and I didn’t want to risk either of you by getting caught.”

He hesitates, so I provide a nudge. “And?”

“I thought if I laid low for a few years, I could put it all behind me.” Gio laughs and rakes a hand through his hair. “But the Council decided to replace Bianchi with Niccolo, my old right-hand man. We’d been friends since we were kids, and he was still loyal to me. Wanted to tell me what had been offered to him before he agreed to adopt the mask. He figured it would give me a certain amount of protection. If the other Councilmen ever accused me of having anything to do with Bianchi, I could use Niccolo’s identity as leverage.”

Gio gazes out the front window, where Sara and Jeremy wait in my car. “As you know, the Council will only extend their protection to families they can control via blackmail. Bianchi was our family’s dirt, but Niccolo is the only one who knows what I did, and I used that fact to catapult the Argento name into greatness.”

My mind reels as I struggle to comprehend this information. Though I’ve often prided myself on my contributions to our family’s success, I had no idea about the true cost.

“So what? Blood for blood? Is that why the Council wants medead? Because they found out whatyoudid to Bianchi all those years ago?” My voice drips venom.

I’ve never spoken to my father like this before, not even after Dulce’s murder, when a part of me hated him for not doing more to find the bastard responsible. But I’m starting to put two and two together, and I don’t like the picture taking shape.