Page 21 of Pocketful of You

"You love the daughter you strike down?" Raffaele arched a sardonic brow. "You love the daughter whose life you offer in exchange for your own? That is not love, you fool, that is the act of a coward."

"I'm his bargaining chip." The words spilled from my lips as I made a split-second decision to trust the devil Ididn’tknow. "In a sick game of cat and mouse."

"Indeed you are, Ramona," Raffaele agreed softly. "Except in this instance, your father is not the fat cat." Turning his attention back to my father, he asked, "How is my dear cousin, Christopher? Or should I sayyourpartner in arms?"

"Mr. Capaldi," I spluttered, trying to piece the madness together, "is your cousin?"

"Oh yes, Ramona," the Italian replied. "My beloved and favorite cousin…until he vanished when I needed him most." Balancing a cigar between his lips, he leaned back in his chair and played with a tumbler of amber liquid. "Word on the street is that my dear cousin Christopher shacked up with the man who betrayed me." His eyes darkened. "Word on the street is dear oldChristopherbecame your right-hand man."

"Chris –"

"Ramona!"

"Please," I begged, quivering. "Don’t hurt me.Please. I need to get out of here. He did that to Chris. Catochi. Because of him. And then he shot my boyf –"

"Ramona!" Dad roared, rearing his arm back. "Not another word–"

"For every finger you lay on your daughter,traditora, I will return the favor tenfold on your son," Raffaele warned when my father moved to hit me again. "I have nothing left to lose. You saw to that when you burned my family alive and attempted to take my throne. Therefore, I would strongly suggest you lower you hand."

"Son?" Shaking my head in confusion, I looked between both men. "Whatson?"

"Your father has kept many secrets, Ramona," Raffaele replied, never once taking his eyes off my father. "He is, what you would call, a dark horse. Am I correct, old friend?"

"Where is he, Raffaele?" my father demanded.

"Have you ever felt like a piece of you was missing, Ramona?" Raffaele spoke directly to me, like my father wasn't even in the room. "Hmm? Like something you couldn't quite put your finger on was absent in your heart? Or perhaps, you felt a void deep inside of your soul?"

Like a fool, I nodded, feeling like this man could somehow see directly into me in this moment.

"I h-have a br-brother?"

"You have more than just a brother," Raffaele said softly. "You have a twin, and unfortunately for you, the man whose loins you were borne from has decided you are of lesser value than him."

Lesser value? "What?" How could this be possible? Trembling, I tore my gaze off Raffaele and gaped at my father. "Is he lying?" I felt like the ground had opened up and I had fallen through to an alternative universe. "Dad, what's he talking about?"

Ignoring me entirely, my father balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the Italian. "Enough of the small talk, you son of a bitch. I'm here. I came without my men or protection, as you demanded. I brought you what you wanted. I have doneeverythingyou asked of me. Now, I want to see my son!"

"What makes you think that I have any intention of returning your son to you?" Raffaele taunted. "When you so callously took the life of mine?"

"Because I may not be a man of my word, but youare," Dad replied, sounding a little desperate now. "I am not a begging man, Raffaele, but I have been searching for him for fifteen years. Do whatever the hell you want with the whore who took him from me, dammit, but I need to see my son!"

Raffaele tilted his head to one side, considering my father's words. "No," he finally said. "I think not."

"I want my son, you bastard," Dad roared. "He's my heir, dammit!"

"And what aboutmyheir, Calisto?" Raffaele demanded. "Our families were to be joined." He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. "This could've all been theirs, but your thirst for power blinded you." Raffaele continued to muse. "It is ironic, no? That I now intend to do exactly to your heir what you did to mine."

My father reddened. "We had a deal!"

"Did she scream?" Raffaele hissed, rising to his feet. "Did my darling Carmella beg for her life before you took it?" His voice took on a deathly cold tone as he walked around his desk and leaned against it. "Did my boy cry for his papa before you snuffed his life out?"

"Raff–"

"Answer me, you piece of shit!"

"You wanted her," Dad ground out, shoving me forward. "She was the price you set. Here she is. I brought her to you, so justtake her. Take the girl and give me back my boy!"

Raffaele shook his head. "Your daughter is beautiful, yes, but not nearly enough of a consolation prize or incentive to clear her father's debts."

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