Page 81 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
She waited for me to speak, the picture of patience. Her butler asked me if I wanted anything, but I couldn’t even open my mouth to decline. Maman waved him away with a flick of the hand only she could make graceful.
I’d been so blind. So goddamned blind. In the mafia fold. Out of the mafia fold. It didn’t matter. I was a puppet either way. I swallowed, but my mouth was too dry.
Maman’s lips quirked upward. “Did I break you, ma petite guerrière? Did I blow your mind?” Maman laughed a little, stood, and pushed in her chair. “It’s been lovely seeing you, my darling daughter. However, I hadn’t expected company, and I have plans for tonight.” She patted my shoulder and left the room.
Her butler came into the room and looked around for Maman. “Miss Vitali? Miss Vitali?” He touched my shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “Miss Vitali?”
I turned to him. “Where’s my mother?”
He held up the peach water. “She said you’d be needing this.”
Cunning, manipulative woman.
My anger flared. I grabbed the water, because yes, I did need it. After draining the glass, handing it to the butler, and thanking him, I headed to the doorway, where I heard Maman speaking to Gaspard.
“We were talking.” I eyed her and crossed my arms. “Where are you going?” I had my suspicions, but as the lies buried me in their treachery, the need to hear more truths heightened. I needed to hear her say it.
She gifted me a serene smile. “I have pressing matters to attend to.”
“More important than your daughter?”
“Oh, honey. Don’t misconstrue this.” She gestured around at the gaudy marble monstrosity she called a home. “This is all for you. When I pass away, this legacy will be yours.”
“I’m not interested in your legacy of lies.”
She reached out and cupped my cheek. “I have to leave now.” Her hand dropped, and my face burned where her hand had been.
My eyes scraped their way down the length of her. She wore a pair of Lululemon yoga pants, a loose Vince henley, and Givenchy sneakers. Travel clothes. I’d spotted a small overnight luggage set earlier, too.
Maman was headed for Italy. To dethrone Papà.
Checkmate.
Game over.
And the dark king fell.
Our capacity for self-deception has no known limits.
Michael Novak
One Week Later
Fun fact: A wolf who has been driven from the pack or has left of its own accord is called a lone wolf. Lone wolves avoid contact with packs and rarely howl.
I knew this because I’d looked up wolves after Ren had called me one. I felt a little like a lone wolf this week. Fielding Cristian’s calls came easier than it should have. His competency made me grateful, because I knew he could run the De Luca family while I stayed in Oklahoma and figured my shit out. I didn’t think I’d talked to a human since Ren left. Most of our business consisted of oil lands contracted out, anyway.
Another fun fact: Wolves mate for life.
Ren hadn’t lied when she’d said that. She did, however, lie when she implied she was that lifetime mate for me.
My phone rang again. Cristian. I hit ignore, slid it back into my back pocket, and picked up my axe. A block of wood split in two as I swung at it. The flannel wrapped around my waist doubled as a towel for my sweat. I dragged the fabric across my forehead and shirtless torso as a black, unmarked SUV pulled up to the property.
I tossed the flannel to the side, gripped the axe tighter, and raised my hand above my head to block the sun from my eyes. Bastian stepped out of the car, his three-piece suit at odds with my shirtless torso, jeans, and work boots.
He took me in as he approached. “Are you posing for a bodice ripper?”
“Your lexicon is as outdated as your haircut.”
