Page 66 of Dangerous Games of Trust

Rage courses through me. He has to be fucking kidding. “Help you by getting my men to side with you over your horrible papa. I thought you were on top now. No more having to bow down to daddy.”

He pushes the bathroom door open for me. “Play the game, princess. We’re so close.” His eyes plead with me to understand, but if this was his plan all along, why not prepare me before we got here tonight? Maybe he thought I would refuse, so he didn’t leave it up to chance. He’s right, I would have. There is nothing inside of me that would be crazy enough to bring a child into this world.

Inside the lavish marble bathroom, I fix up my lipstick and suck in a few deep breaths as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to get my racing heart under control. I knewtonight was going to be a nightmare. Why can’t we just leave the house without some sort of drama following us around? I’m not even sure why he thinks they will believe us, I’m thinner than I’ve ever been. And what on earth are we supposed to do when a baby doesn’t materialize in eight months’ time.

When I shove open the door, he’s waiting for me and snakes an arm around my middle, walking alongside me back through the room. “You fucking owe me for this bullshit,” I snap, still reeling.

“Anything you want, princess.” He kisses my cheek and smiles at me with way too much pleasure in his eyes. He likes playing pretend with me. The sick fuck probably thinks I will eventually give in and just give him what he wants, but he’s very mistaken if he thinks that’s the case here. I’m never getting married or having babies, not with him or anyone. I’ve seen what marriage does to people, and there is no way in hell I would put myself through it. Or some poor kid that’s dragged along for the ride like Marco and I have been because of our selfish parents. No fucking way.

When we return to the table, the others are all deep in lively conversation with Enzo at the head of the action. Valentina laughs along with him, sipping from her champagne glass while the others watch on.

I can see Maddox’s tic of anger like he’s about to snap, and I don’t blame him. There is so much tension at this table. So many lies they have all had to suffer through at Enzo’s hands. I stare at him, wishing he would combust and knowing I can’t let this madness go on. Someone has to stand up to him before it’s too late. The cops are powerless, the boys seem content with just looking like they’re on top, and Marco and Dani are taking too long.

Eventually the auction starts, and while Enzo and Valentina are distracted bidding on some sculptural piece she simply musthave, Geovani’s hand comes to my thigh. “Are you alright?” he whispers.

My horrified eyes meet his. “Would you be?” I whisper, anger coursing through my veins. I feel erratic, on the verge of flying across the table and dealing with fucking Enzo myself. My fingers stroke over my knife.

He sighs heavily, massaging his temples, and I know that stuff Alessandro just pulled wasn’t even run by him. Alessandro is still playing his own game, still trying to prove to Enzo I’m his. And I wish I understood why. He’s living in the past, holding on to what we had. Now I understand why my papa sent me away when he found us together, I will never forget the horrified look in his eyes. He knew what being in a relationship of any kind with a Moretti meant. He really was trying to protect me from them. It was just too late. Alessandro and I had already fallen for each other, the connection was made. And unbeknownst to me, Geovani had me in his sights as well. I was destined to end up at this table playing this very part. There was nothing my papa could do about it.

Valentina squeals when Enzo’s bid wins her the piece she was after, breaking me from my trance. In truth I don’t think anyone in this room would be stupid enough to bid against them. They’re all too scared. You can see it in the way they celebrate him. He bows for his fans like some fucking celebrity and nausea rolls in my stomach. I should just vomit all over the table, blame it on my fake baby so I can get out of this shit.

Other works are brought onto the stage and bid on as I sit quietly watching the two of them together. Valentina has consumed the best part of a bottle of champagne, and Enzo acts like the fucking king of the world or some shit like that. We eat three courses: a prawn dish with a spicy salad on the side for entrée, baked salmon and fresh vegetables for a main, andchocolate mousse for dessert. I have to give it to them, the casino knows how to put on good food.

Every now and then one of the boys will glance my way and offer a sympathetic smile, their eyes apologizing for me being stuck here with them. But they don’t know the half of it, and I guess that’s on me. Maybe if I told them what Enzo did to my ma, they would have understood how utterly horrendous this situation is for me and let me stay at home. I preach to them constantly about not keeping me in the dark, but I know something and I have kept it from them for days. I’m not even sure why, maybe just to give myself time to completely wrap my head around what he did. Or because I feel like they won’t believe me if I told them. Either way, it’s time they knew the truth, because I won’t pretend anymore. I won’t play this fucking part.

The announcer, his voice booming across the stage, regales the crowd with his praise for Enzo and Valentina, highlighting their dedication to organizing this event. He speaks of their tireless efforts in securing young, fresh, talented artists for the show and their commitment to donating all profits to charities close to their hearts, benefiting the city they love so very much. He paints them as some kind of saints, and they grin for the adoring fans, enjoying the attention.

I clutch my knife through my dress. Alessandro takes my hand in his, kissing the back of my hand, bringing my attention to him. “It’s nearly over,” he tells me noticing the tension in my body.

A new oil painting is wheeled onto the stage, and I feel my stomach completely turn to liquid, thinking my little joke to myself is now an actual possibility. “What the actual fuck.” I cover my chest, feeling like my heart is going to stop.

Alessandro looks at me, strange deep creases forming on his forehead.

“Where the hell did they get that painting from?” I snap, all the breath sucked from my lungs. It’s a beautiful oil painting capturing my ma’s porcelain skin and vibrant red hair. My mother, being an artist herself, often had her artist friends paint her portraits. But this painting is more intimate with only a silk scarf draped over her body, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, it’s her.

He moves in closer. “I’m not sure. What’s wrong, princess?”

Valentina makes eye contact across the table, her lips turning up in a malicious smirk. She knows who’s in that painting. This is no coincidence. She’s fucking messing with me.

Enzo places the first bid, raising his paddle as the room watches on.

Sweat coats my forehead, and my head spins. I shove my chair back and stand in a rush. I can feel both Geovani and Alessandro behind me, but I keep walking, striding as far away from them all as I can. I don’t know where I’m going or what to do.

“Red, where are you going?”

I stop dead and spin on the spot, and they both collide with me. I stare up at them. “Do you know who’s in that painting?” I gasp.

They look at me puzzled. “She looks a lot like you.”

“Because it’s my ma,” I seethe, my entire body shaking.

Alessandro looks over his shoulder, then back to us. “Stay here with her,” he tells Geovani then takes off back to the table, picking up his bidding paddle. He places a counter bid.

Geovani pulls me into him. “Fucking Enzo and his mind games. Don’t let him get to you. You are strong. Remember that. You are strong,” he says on repeat.

But I’m not, everything they do to me is wearing me down. I just get over one hurdle and feel like I’m going to recover, but then there is a new threat, a new fucked-up situation to deal with, and I know I can’t do it. My hands tremble uncontrollably.I can’t stop them. I feel like I’ve seen a ghost. And in a way, I have. I haven’t seen that painting in a very long time, but I know I have seen it before and even that in itself is odd, because it wasn’t in my papa’s house.

“Two hundred thousand,” I hear Enzo bid again, his voice booming through the room, his wicked smile coming right to me. How the fuck did he make this happen?

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