Page 32 of The Red Queen

It took her a moment to recover, but when she did, anger took hold once more. She turned to Vitto. “That will be all.”

The younger man bowed his head and left the office.

When she turned back to Giovanni, he raised an eyebrow.

“Dismissing my staff, Desi? Don’t you think you should earn their respect before treating them rudely.”

Giovanni’s comment sparked a tiny feeling of shame in her. Not something she experienced often. She’d been second-in-command to a powerful cartel in its own right. While nothing compared to Giovanni’s clout, the Garza cartel had been respected in their part of the world. She’d frequently had to make snap decisions and hadn’t the luxury to care for the feelings of others. She’d never been called out for rudeness before.

She ignored his comment.

“How do you know my birth name?” she demanded. “You told me before that you’d done some digging. How much? What did you learn?” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling vulnerable. She was desperate to know more about her mother but frightened at the same time.

A look of pity touched his features. He gestured toward a chair opposite his desk. “Sit down, Desi. Let’s talk.”

Without waiting to see if she would do as he commanded, he picked up the receiver to his phone, an ornate piece of technology that looked like it had come straight out of the 70s. It was gold and silver, and the dial was rotary. He dialed a single number, held it to his ear, and waited for an answer. She realized it must be a phone connecting the house, and he’d called one of the other rooms.

She watched in bemusement as he ordered a tray with two coffees, two orange juices, and an assortment of breakfast items. He thanked whoever was on the other end and hung up.

His dark gaze landed on her once more. She held her breath as he perused her, taking in her outfit, the way she was sitting, everything about her. He was such a commanding, powerful presence that even a once-over felt like an interrogation.

Desi felt ruffled, out of sorts, but also somewhat flattered. This man had chosen her, had saved her life. She didn’t know why or what his end game was. He wanted to marry her, she understood that much. But whyher? There were literally millions of women more docile and obedient who would jump at the chance to marry the Italian Godfather. All he’d have to do was go down to his club, point at some young, beautiful woman and have her brought to him. She’d probably be thrilled.

“You want to know where I got your name from?”

She nodded, mesmerized by his gaze.

“I know most of your background,” he told her. “My future wife cannot be a mystery to me.”

“Yes, you said that before when we dined with your son. But how?” she asked, confused. “Nico buried every trace of my past.”

Giovanni narrowed his eyes when she mentioned her late lover’s name. “When referring to your former boss, you will only call him Garza.”

She frowned. What difference did it make what she called Nico? Was he jealous, or simply trying to control her by dictating her use of language? That was going to be a problem. Desi rarely held her tongue.

“How did you find out I am an Amada?” she demanded.

“I have connections, Desi,” he said impatiently, waving his hand in the air. “You must assume I know everything all the time. Very little passes by me unnoticed. I knew who you were before you even attacked the Gutierrez stronghold.”

“But how?” she cried, agitated. She’d planned so carefully, had been a ghost in Miami until she was ready to reveal herself.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, including within the Gutierrez organization. I first became aware of you when you attacked Raina and shot her bodyguard.”

Desi blinked at him. All the while she was planning and plotting against Mateo, the man who murdered Nico, Giovanni had been working in the background, digging up information about her. She didn’t know if she should be terrified or flattered.

“Did Mateo know that you were aware of my presence in his city?” She slid her hands across the rough fabric of her denim leggings to dispel the dampness from her palms. The conversation was heading into waters out of her depth. Giovanni’s resources were far vaster than she’d suspected.

“No.”

His answer was simple, no embellishment. The ground shifted beneath her feet once more. She’d ignored him when he arrived in Miami. She had been too focused on her target. Meanwhile, this man had been in the background, planning… what?

“Why did you come to Miami? What did you hope to accomplish?”

“I wanted to protect a friend, feel out a potential ally in her soon-to-be husband, and…” he stood and came around the desk toward her. Desi gripped the arms of her chair. He stopped and looked down at her. “And I wanted to meet the woman who dared to attack a family who has the backing of both the Venezuelan and Bolivian cartels, the woman whose heart drove her to seek vengeance for her former master.”

Desi’s throat was dry, and she had to swallow to speak. “And what do you see when you look at me?”

He gripped her chin and tilted her face up. “I see a passion and loyalty that I want in my life, in my organization.”

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