Page 28 of The Red Queen

“He grabbed me with that hand.”

He seemed to contemplate her words as she continued to search the room, discovering a shelf with some books and a large walk-in closet full of clothing that looked to be her size.

When she turned back, she was surprised to see Vitto still standing in her doorway. She’d assumed once he finished escorting her, he’d disappear with the other men.

He glanced at her, then away and finally spoke, asking the question that had probably bothered him since she’d beaten up his brother. “How did you beat seven of Signore Savino’s best men?”

“Those were his best?” Desi asked incredulously. She’d been hoping they were the B team, given how easily she’d dropped them. She might have to rethink how secure the mansion was.

Vitto flashed her a sheepish smile. “Si, we have all been taught how to fight.”

Desi sighed heavily. This wasn’t the first time she’d been questioned about her ability to fight. Men seemed shocked by her competency. She rarely found one who could best her.

Though she was tempted to tell Vitto the truth of her training – that she’d had the skills beaten into her, that the consequences of losing a fight were so terrible, she made damn sure she always won – she didn’t think he would enjoy that answer. He seemed like a respectable young man, despite being in Giovanni’s employ. Instead, she gave him a watered-down version.

“I’ve trained every day since I was ten-years-old. That was twenty-five years ago. I was encouraged to learn every kind of fighting style: mixed martial arts, Krav Maga, street-fighting, wrestling. I also learned how to use almost any kind of weapon, even things that don’t look like weapons at first glance.”

It felt strange, but good to have his attention. When she’d competed with the men of the Garza cartel, they’d resented her success. They’d isolated and ignored her. They probably would have found a way to kill her if they hadn’t been so afraid of Nico’s wrath. But this man seemed fascinated by her rather than threatened.

“Can I give you some advice?” she asked, not sure why she was bothering. Why aid Giovanni’s men when her end goal wasn’t yet clear? Until she was positive that this was the place she would choose to stay, she should keep to herself, not make connections.

Giovanni’s image flashed through her mind, and she had to admit that she was already making connections. She was drawn to the powerful mafioso. She loved his old-world appeal, combined with his ruthless brutality. It made her heart pump faster and her panties dampen with anticipation.

“Si, per favore.”

She approached him slowly, so she wouldn’t come across as threatening. She touched his left arm. “Learn to use your weaker side in a fight. If for any reason your right becomes disabled, you’ll still be able to fight.”

“Like you,” he murmured, casting a glance at her still bandaged finger.

She was getting used to the loss and barely noticed except for the ache in her hand and the occasional tickle of a phantom finger that was no longer there. She was used to loss, used to working at a lowered capacity. When she was beaten for some infraction or other, once the worst of her injuries had healed, she was expected to perform her duties once more.

“Si, like me,” she admitted, holding up her hand. “This will be nothing to me. I don’t need this trigger finger.” She lifted her left hand and wiggled her index finger. “I can shoot just as well with this one.”

Vitto nodded seriously. “Smart.”

“Survival,” she countered, then tapped him on the chest. “You also need to loosen up, become more fluid. When you move, you project your intentions whether they’re climbing the stairs, opening a door or pulling your gun from its holster.”

He nodded and assured her he would work on it.

“Are you my guard?” she asked bluntly. “I’ve seen you more than the others.”

“I believe that is the Signore’s intention,” he admitted. “Though it hasn’t been confirmed.”

She liked Vitto. She would see if she could make him her permanent bodyguard, assuming Giovanni would have one follow her around, regardless of her status in the house.

“Thank you, Vitto,” she said, “you may leave.”

Vitto nodded and turned to leave.

“Pardon.” She stopped him. “Where is the Signore?”

“He has meetings throughout the day,” Vitto told her. “He’ll see you later.”

“Thank you.”

He left, closing the door behind him.

She could hear the lock turning in the door. She supposed it would take more time before she could have the run of the mansion. It was fine. She was pleased with her new room and if she really wanted to, she could find a way out, either through the French balcony doors or into the hallway. But she wasn’t ready to leave. She wanted to play this out, find out how life was going to settle, because from her vantage point, things could be much worse.

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