Page 84 of Tortured Hearts
“So, you’re saying they’ll intercept the coroner’s report and make sure it states fire as the official cause of death?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Welcome to life as a boss where the only difference between the government and the mob is a paycheck.”
We discuss more in-depth details over the next half hour. When half the whiskey in the bottle is gone, we’re left with a tepid understanding and an unbalanced truce. Anxious to see Becca, I slide my empty glass across the desk and stand when he drops one last bomb.
“There’s one last stipulation to our deal, Gianni.”
I grit my teeth, knowing a rusted hammer is about to drop.
“The faster your impending nuptials happen, the faster I’m ensured everyone keeps their word.” He sits back, that snake-like smile spreading across his face. “Therefore, I want this girl bound toLa Cosa Nostraby tomorrow night.”
I stare at him, reality crashing around me. There’s no way out of this. I’ve set things in motion that can’t be stopped. I know what I have to do…
And she’s not going to like it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
GIANNI
Ikick the door to my house open, my pulse spiking the moment my eyes land on her. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight or one that twists so many conflicting emotions at once.
Need. Lust. Exhilaration. Regret.
She’s freshly showered and curled up on my couch, her damp blonde hair fanned out behind her. All traces of soot are gone from her face, replaced by the muddled bruises left by Henry’s fist. Seeing them sends a fresh wave of rage through me.
But the more I stare, the more I frown. Something’s missing.
Then it hits me—her glasses.
I haven’t seen them on her since her arrival in New Jersey. I assume they got lost in the struggle with Henry—another visual that makes me wish I could raise him from the dead just so I could kill him all over again. With everything this whole ordeal has stolen from her, it’s ridiculous to let somethingas insignificant as a pair of glasses incite so much anger, but I can’t help it. It’s the one thing that made Becca,Becca, and they took it from her.
From me.
But that fixation quickly evaporates when my gaze travels down her body. The white dress is gone. In its place is nothing more than a men’s black button-up shirt … from my closet.
There are no words to describe what seeing Becca in my clothes does to me. It’s the next best thing to branding my name onto her. The thought of having my scent smeared all over her turns my cock to stone.
Until Anton opens his mouth and drags me back into reality.
“You’re alive, so I’m assuming everything went as planned.”
I slide a side-eyed glare to where he’s leaned against the archway between the kitchen and living area. “It’s Toscano. Does anything ever ‘go as planned?’” A vague, shit answer, but it’s the best he’s going to get right now. I nod toward the couch. “How was she when you brought her here?”
There’s not even a flicker in that flat expression. “Feral.”
“Fuck.”
“The poor girl has been like a poker chip tossed between manipulative bastards,” he counters, his gaze drifting over my shoulder. “Can you blame her?”
Not at all. But I’m fighting an internal tsunami, and sense and rationality aren’t at the frontline. “But I’m the man who fucking saved her.”
“Yes, the one who she watched murder his father and seize control of his empire. Give her a little space to accept this versionof him.”
I look away, the righteous indignation in his words pissing me off. I don’t want to give her space. I want everything like it was. I want Torch’s anonymity, and Becca’s submission, and fucking Toscano off my ass, and…
Well, Marcello and Henry can stay dead. That’s just a gift to society.
“We don’t have time for space,” I grumble.
