“Does it seem like I can’t handle my own business, Salvatore?” he asks simply.
“If the way you handle your business is rewarding useless fucking cocksuckers who hurt your sister, then we definitely don’t do business the same way.”
“Well, I think that goes without saying,” he replies, simply. “But I didn’t reward a useless fucking cocksucker who hurt my sister. I would’ve disposed of a useless fucking cocksucker who hurt my sister. He’s quite useful, as you well know.”
“I want him dead,” I state. “You want peace, I want him dead.”
Mateo’s lips curve up and he cocks his head. “I don’t have to give you anything, Salvatore. I do want peace, but so do you, and more than that, you want my sister. The only way you get her is if there’s peace.” Shrugging his shoulder, he summarizes, “You are not in a position to negotiate.”
I know he’s right. This is not the way to fucking negotiate, going into a situation where you’ve already shown your position and the other guy knows how much it matters. I still want the fucker dead. “Do you know what he did to her? The details of what he did to her?”
“She’s my sister,” he states, clearly not wanting the details. “I’ve seen what he’s done to women since, so I can imagine. That’s why I stipulated he stay away from her when I brought him on. Protecting Francesca and hiring Delmonico were not mutually exclusive goals. I handled it my way.”
I can’t fucking speak when my brain wraps itself around the name he just uttered, in the context he just uttered it. My body responds like there’s an immediate threat in front of me. Adrenaline surges, sweat breaks out on my forehead, my jaw locks so tight in aches, and I can hear my own fucking heartbeat like it’s blasted on a speaker throughout the study. There’s no benefit to punching Mateo Morelli in the face, but I’m having a difficult time remembering that.
Luca fucking Delmonico is Francesca’s ex.
That’s somehow worse than anything else my mind has come up with.
There are dangerous men, like Adrian, who are dangerous because it benefits them. Because it’s part of the job description, how they make money, how they stay alive.
And then there are sadistic sons of bitches like Luca Delmonico, who just have an unquenchable thirst for human misery. They don’t look at the dirtier sides of our life as a distasteful task that can’t be avoided, but a fucking perk. They’d do the same dirty shit if they didn’t make a dime doing it. They do it because they fucking like it.
Francesca’s comment about snuff films lodges in my brain, because Luca Delmonico is the kind of man you don’t wonder if he’s killed a few girlfriends in the past, you know he has. Not because he had a reason, not because they even acted up, but just because he liked the feeling of watching the life slowly leave their bodies, knowing he played God in those final moments. His was the last face those poor souls saw—the person they probably appealed to for help, and he probably got off on that, too.
I swallow, rocking forward and trying to get my fucking shit together, but I’m having a difficult time processing this.
I’m retroactively scared shitless. Even knowing she survived, I’m desperate right now to turn back time and go find her to save her from this shit.
I feel fucking sick.
“You let your sister…” I stop again, unable to even get the words past my lips.
Mateo lowers his eyes, suddenly realizing, “Francesca didn’t give you his name.”
Now I understand why she didn’t.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, scrubbing my face with my hands. I need to go grab her and wrap her in my arms, just to reassure myself that she’s all right.
Mateo nods, knowing better than even I do what that sick fuck is capable of. “That’s why I wanted him to stay away from her. And of course he has.”
How does Francesca feel safe? How does she ever feel safe again after a monster like that?
“Jesus Christ,” I say again.
“She’s perfectly safe,” he says, unexpectedly trying to reassure me. I guess since I’m losing my shit over here, it makes sense. “He was never legitimately interested in her. Since she was my sister, he had to keep himself on a leash to begin with. Trust me; he didn’t put up a fight to keep her. He’ll never be an issue.”
“The fact that he continues to draw breath is the issue,” I state, wide-eyed. “Are you fucking serious? He’s a monster, and he was with Francesca.”
“And now he’s not,” Mateo replies. “And now you are. So let’s get back to that.”
“Would that be good enough if Delmonico had Mia?” I challenge, meeting his gaze. “Would it be enough that he’s just not with her anymore? Would it be acceptable, the emotional damage he inflicted? The fear he instilled in her, making her incapable of intimacy without full-blown panic and anxiety?”