Which made sense, given all his scars.
“Are your bosses going to make you kill me?”
“What? No. Fuck no,” he added for emphasis. “Dunno how Eren and his organization operated, but the Family, we don’t hurt women or children. That’s a rule as old as omertà.”
“Omertà,” I repeated.
“Code of silence,” he told me.
“Oh, right.” Eren didn’t have a code of silence. He aired his business loudly around friends and strangers alike.
“What does your boss want with me then?”
“Right now, he wants to know what is going on with Eren’s business now that he is gone.”
“And he expects me to know that? Haven’t you guys done any research into Eren? He doesn’t share… didn’t share anything with me. I didn’t even have access to any of the bank accounts. I could only spend money on groceries.”
“So, you’re not taking over now that he’s dead?”
“Taking over,” I scoffed, reaching up to run a hand through my hair. “No. I mean… Berat must be taking over. Judy, remember from the gym?” I asked, getting a nod from him. “She said Berat and some of the others came over once the tape was taken down and took boxes out.”
“Any idea what was in them?”
“I don’t remember there being any boxes,” I said, shaking my head. “Well, one box. With, like, birth certificates and such in it. But definitely not multiple boxes. And I have no idea what might have been in them.”
“He didn’t keep money hidden around?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never looked?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that brave,” I admitted, hating to admit that, but there was no way around it either.
“Stayed with a monster who beat you. Think that takes its own kind of bravery,” he said, face going dark.
Would it be crazy to assume he somehow knew that from experience? Had someone close to him endured an abusive husband as well? Maybe his mother?
“Eren was the epitome of controlling. He would have known if a box was moved one millimeter or if the dust pattern on it didn’t match the other boxes. It wasn’t worth it to risk his wrath over something that, ultimately, didn’t matter. Since I had nothing to do with his business.”
“But you knew it wasn’t above-board?”
“Yeah, I mean… what upstanding businessman conducts business the way Eren did? Who has lackeys and yes-men around him all the time? That’s not something a man who just owns a couple restaurants has.”
Brio’s dark gaze was on me, deep, penetrating, like they could see into all the hidden places inside. Even the most carefully guarded ones.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, voice smooth. And it absolutely didn’t send a weird, unexpected shiver through my insides. Nope. Because that would have been crazy.
My gaze shifted down to my hands, seeing my wedding and engagement rings that I’d been afraid to take off because of fears about what the police on the case might think.
And now, apparently, whoever was watching me.
They’d never been prized possessions. In fact, I hated everything about them.
First, I didn’t like gold. And both bands were gold. Second, I didn’t love diamonds and my engagement ring was a diamond. A round one, another thing I didn’t like.
On top of that, I hated what they symbolized.
Ownership.
Not partnership.
Not choice.
Seeming to sense my internal battle, Brio put his coffee cup down, then closed the short space between us.
He towered over me for only a second before dropping down to a squat in front of me, then waiting for my gaze to lift.
When it did, his hands moved out. Slowly. Like he knew how strong my instinct was to flinch away from fast moving male hands.
They moved up, gathering my hair from one side of my shoulder, then slipping it all onto my other shoulder.
“How about you tell me about this?” he suggested, his finger moving out to stroke over the scar on my neck.
God, that scar.
I kept trying to tell myself that the years would fade it, that it would blend more and more in with my skin. But the fact of the matter was, it was always going to be there. It was always going to make people wonder, make them ask.
And what could I tell them?
Surely not the truth.
Normal people living normal lives, they couldn’t handle the truth.
But Brio wasn’t a normal person.
And he damn sure didn’t live a normal life.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I forced my gaze to his face.
“I got that scar the day I got engaged. From my fiancé.”
“Figured it was from him,” he said, and his finger was still touching it. But his hand had shifted, his four fingers going behind my neck, leaving his thumb to trace over the soft, raised reminder of the first time Eren put his hands on me. “What happened?”
That was the question, wasn’t it?
How did I end up with Eren?
Why did I stay with him when he treated me like shit?