Page 23 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
I will walk this road alone, and I will either kill Enrique or die trying. I turn my hand over, threading my fingers through hers.
“Thank you. I have this. I know what I’m doing.” My eyes meet hers, and I hope she can read between the lines. I have a plan.
She lifts her champagne glass. “Then here’s to you, dear sister. May your marriage be everything that you hope for.” She tips the glass up and gulps back half the liquid. It’s the only sign that my perfectly poised sister is slightly ruffled. When she places her glass on the bar, I pull her into a hug. For a moment she stills awkwardly, and then slowly wraps her arms around me. The strawberry scent of her shampoo soothes my fraught nerves, and I inhale deeply. I miss her more than I ever thought I could.
“He will pay,” I whisper against her ear.
“I know.” She pulls back and cups my face in both hands, forcing me to look into the depths of her deep chocolate eyes. “Make sure you come back to me, baby sister.” We both know I can’t promise that.
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. With a weak smile, Gabi releases me and turns away, instantly blending into the crowd. She shifts from my sister into a hardened businesswoman, squaring her shoulders and shaking the hand of an older man in a suit. In a room of powerful men, she commands respect, and pride swells in my chest.
I order a glass of wine this time and remain at the bar. It’s supposedly my engagement party, and yet no one approaches me. I’m nothing more than an ornament to be seen and not heard. A man comes to stand at the bar beside me and orders a drink. I ignore him until he finally speaks.
“You look beautiful, Adelina.”
I narrow my eyes and turn to face him. I recognize him, probably from one of Daddy’s parties. I think he’s from the Santori family. They used to be an ally of my father’s, now though, who knows where anyone truly stands. Power corrupts loyalty.
“Thank you…”
“Matteo.” He smiles, and it makes him look younger than I think he truly is. His hair falls in dark waves that kiss the collar of his tuxedo jacket. He’s not like the other men here. That heir of ruthlessness is lacking. It makes me feel almost instantly at ease, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
“I remember you. My sisters twenty-first birthday.” I think Gabi was kind of dating Matteo. I remember teasing her because of the way she looked at him. But then, all the boys wanted to date my sister—she’s Gabriella Ricci.
A small smile touches his lips. “I’m surprised you remember anything from that night. You got drunk on the punch, and your father dragged you away.”
I smile at the memory. Daddy was so mad. I was only seventeen, obviously not supposed to be drinking. Even though he was angry, he stayed with me and held my hair while I threw up for hours. “Yeah, not my proudest moment.” As always, memories of my father are both happy and heart-breaking.
He seems to sense my tumultuous emotions. “I am sorry for the loss of your father. He was a good man.”
I duck my head, hiding my weakness. It never gets any easier. I can push it from my mind, forget even under the barrage of other issues that I have. But then someone will say something as simple as “I’m sorry,” and it all comes flooding back.
“Thank you. He was.” Good. It always seems so contradictory when talking about a mafia boss. Here of all places, I’m acutely aware of exactly how bad men like my father are.
Matteo glances over his shoulder before shifting closer to me. “Enrique Bianchi?”
I lift my chin, that now familiar mask falling over my face. I have to tread carefully. “You know how the mafia works, Matteo.” I find myself wanting to trust him when his hazel eyes lock with mine. That, in itself, is dangerous. “Alliances are forged with marriages.”
He inhales a deep breath before blowing it through his lips. “You aren’t limited to only one option…”
His words hang in the air precariously as we stare at each other for long seconds. He thinks he’s offering me a way out, but I’m exactly where I need to be. I don’t need a knight. I had one, far braver and stronger than Matteo Santori, and I left him. For this. Revenge.
Matteo freezes, his entire body stiffening as his eyes slip over my shoulder. I tense as something brushes over my waist. Warm breath washes over the side of my neck, and I fight back the urge to shiver. Matteo’s easy smile from moments ago disappears, and as his expression hardens, he looks every bit as ruthless as the other men here.
