“Yeah?”
“You working on babies, brother?”
I turn my back to her. For some reason, talking about sex with Elise to anyone else feels like a betrayal. It’s his job, though, to make sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to. “Yeah, on it. Did what we had to. What’s going on?”
He sighs, and all humor fades from his tone. “Need you in sooner than later.”
“Why?”
I adjust my tie and catch her gaze on instinct.
“Found a fucking traitor. Bringing him in now.”
I flex my fingers and make a fist. Stifle a sigh.
Welcome home.
CHAPTER 8
“I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.” ~ Twelfth Night, Shakespeare
“Elise”
I have so many mixed emotions, I’m not even sure how to begin sorting them. I’m trying to compile a mental list of everything I’ve figured out about him and the questions I still have.
That list of questions is a hell of a lot longer than the list of answers.
I hate him, or at least I thought I did. All bossy and commanding and dominating, he steamrolled me like he’s the king of the castle. He definitely thinks he is. And my attempts to take him down a peg or two…well, let’s just say that was an epic fail.
He has decided he will show me who’s boss, and he’s pretty convincing. I have a feeling his need to control isn’t just a kinky bedroom thing.
At least the punishment he promised me for trying to escape was fairly tame and ended in a climax, so…I dodged a bullet maybe?
He’s got an insatiable appetite for sex, or at least it seems it. He didn’t waste any time on our wedding night, jerked himself off in the shower, and already looks at me as if he wants to push me up against the wall and fuck me again.
But just now…someone called him, and whatever they said on the phone affected him. He’s back to the brooding, angry monster of a man with tattooed knuckles and a mean palm. I can still feel the branding slap of his hand on my ass, and the promise of more to come if I didn’t do what he said.
So I decide it’s time to observe. Time to really understand him. If I’m going to escape, I’ll really need to know what makes him tick.
It’s all a bit surreal as we head to the North End. It’s a cool spring day, with a bit of a breeze, but the sun still beats down optimistically. Warmer days are coming, for a little while anyway.
“Later, after I finish work, we’ll head to The Castle. We’ll spend the next few nights there.” He’s in the driver’s seat of the car he used last night to pick me up.
“Don’t you have a driver?” I know Elise’s family does.
“Yeah, several, but sometimes I like to drive to work myself.”
Huh. Interesting. Why?
I watch as his lips tip up, but it’s barely noticeable. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“Ah. Control, then.”
“Yeah. When shit goes down, I want the only blame to be on me.”
Interesting.
“So what do I need to know about The Castle?”
“Marialena will be there, and Vittoria, Romeo’s wife.” Oh, God. So I’m not the first victim to be married to a made man. I hope I like them. Some of Elise’s family…
I have a feeling I should know some of this, and I don’t want to make it clear that I’m not Elise, so I decide it’s better if I don’t say anything.
“Rosa’s in Italy for now. Unfortunately, she won’t be back until the end of the month. I know you guys were friendly with each other. Maybe she’ll FaceTime.”
Shit.
There is no way on God’s green earth I’m gonna FaceTime with someone who’s supposed to know me. How much time did the Regazzas spend with the Rossis? From a distance I could pass for her, but face-to-face, I’m screwed.
“Hey, am I getting my phone back?”
“When I’m done with it, yeah.”
Panic sweeps through my chest. “What do you mean, when you’re done with it?”
Is he…checking it? Researching? What if he finds the texts I sent Elise? My mind races, trying to piece it all together. She isn’t in my phone as Elise but Bestie. Thank God.
Our texts to each other though…we only talked about the Rossis, and that would be an obvious conversation to have the day before I’m supposed to be married to one of them. That’s pretty normal stuff, too, I guess.
Oh God. Still. I need to look at my phone. I need to see if there’s anything at all incriminating on it…
“Why’d you go all quiet?”
I look out the window and will my voice to remain steady. “Maybe I don’t like the idea of you snooping on my phone.”
He purses his lips as he takes a turn onto a main road. “Maybe I don’t like your attitude.”