Giovanni (Benedetti Brothers 4)

“I want to talk to him.”

“Come have a cup of coffee.” She takes my arm, tries to lead me toward the kitchen.

“I’m not here for coffee.”

Her expression tells me she has some idea why I’m here.

“Gio—”

“Now, Janet. Take me to him.”

“He needs his rest. He’s an old man. Why don’t you two work out whatever differences you have? The past is dead, and he will be too, soon. You’ll regret it, Giovanni.”

I snort. “I won’t regret his death, Janet.”

With that, I walk past her and up the stairs. She follows, but I’m much faster and, a few minutes later, I’m standing inside the master bedroom, a grand room fit for a king but occupied by this peasant.

My father must have been expecting me because he’s sitting up in his large, four-poster bed, the blanket over his legs, a cigar between his fingers, a wicked grin on his rotting face.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns.”

“I’d be more respectful, old man.” The curtains are drawn and the room is dark, the air rank.

“What brings you to visit your dying father?”

Hands fisted, I step deeper into the room, stop a few feet from the bed. “If only I could be so lucky.” I take the crumpled note from my pocket, read it out loud. “What the hell is this?”

“Just want to be sure the girl is on her guard. Her safety is my only concern.”

“The girl is none of your business.”

“Pretty thing, I hear. With a striking resemblance to—”

“You stay away from her. Any of your spies come near her, and I’ll kill them, understand?”

He grins. “Did I hit a nerve?” He leans over to stub the cigar out in the ashtray on the nightstand.

He did. Fuck. I ball up the note and toss it on the bed. “Stay out of my life. Stay out of my business, or I will cut you off.”

“You’re a sorry son of a bitch, you know that?”

“You can say what you want about me, but don’t you dare talk about my mother that way.”

“It’s a fucking expression.”

I walk around the bed and when I lean in, he leans away. He’s scared of me, but his hatred is much more powerful than his fear.

“Hear me, father. Hear me well. The only reason you’re alive is because of my siblings. I don’t want to hurt them anymore than they’ve already been hurt. But you fuck with me, and I will fuck with you back, understand?”

“Threatening an old, helpless man. You make me sick, boy.”

I fist my hands.

“Giovanni!” It’s Janet, standing at the door.

I take my father by the collar and draw him forward. “Do you understand?”

“That’s enough!” Janet suddenly has my arm and is trying to drag me off him.

My father’s watery eyes still have that same hardness in them, that hatred. I wonder if he always hated me or if it was only after Angelica.

I release him and step back.

Janet moves around me and adjusts the collar of his pajamas.

“I’m fine,” I hear him tell her when I reach the door. “You should bring her here,” he calls out as I step into the hallway. I stop. “I’d love to have a look at her with my own eyes.”

My hands fist again. Janet comes rushing out, closing the bedroom door behind her.

I turn to her. “I don’t want any more letters. No contact. You know the agreement.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him. He’s just an old man.”

“Don’t underestimate him, Janet.”

She just gives me a shake of her head. I walk out of the house, glad to be outside, glad to breathe in fresh air after that suffocating room.

I will never bring Emilia here. I will never let him see her. Touch her. Never. I’ll fucking kill him before I allow that.

In a few minutes, I’m in the car and heading home. Maybe what I’m doing is a mistake. When I went to Emilia’s apartment, it was about her brother. Now though, it’s different. It’s more than that. Hell, I’m fucking her. And I can’t get enough of it. Of her.

I’m not fool enough to believe I’ve scared my father off, though. He has nothing but hate. Hate and time.

And I have to be careful with her. I can’t ever allow him anywhere near Emilia.7Emilia“I don’t think I can break you, Emilia. I think you’re already broken.”

I’m glad it’s Saturday, and I don’t have to see Katy just yet after last night. I’m sure she’s spread the news of my being carried out of that club caveman-style over Giovanni’s shoulder. Although at this point, does it matter? With Giovanni hell-bent on finding Alessandro, on using me to lure him, I’m going to have to disappear anyway.

Giovanni is closer to the truth than he realizes.

His was right when he guessed I paid with my skin. But it wasn’t just the brutal physical reminder Alessandro left me with. There was more. Hell, by the time we got to that part, to him opening me up like that, I was already broken beyond repair. The whipping was pure rage. Pure, violent hate.