Page 91 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“Miss Walsh,” Edoardo says after a pause.
“Yes?” Nerves twist through me. Every interaction we’ve had so far has been a bad one.
“I wanted to…” He breathes slowly. “Apologize. For my behavior. My accusations. And my rudeness.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“He thought you were in on it,” Vittorio grumbles. “He thought my son and his new woman were working together to undermine me. My son, Edoardo, your nephew… you thoughthewas in on it.”
Edoardo holds his hands up. “In my defense, Dario thought the same about me.”
Vittorio runs his hand over his head, looking at Dario. “How much does she know?”
“Everything,” Dario says.
Vittorio turns to me. “I assume we can trust you not to go running to the cops about the Bianchi Family?”
I let go of Dario’s hand. He squeezes my thigh under the table, not steamily, but as a signal. I ignore it.
Gripping the table, I lean forward. “Mr. Bianchi, I want you to answer me honestly. If I said the first thing I was going to do when I got back to the States was tell the police about this trip, about what I’ve heard, what would you do?”
Edoardo grinds his teeth. Marcela stares at me in shock. Beside me, I feel Dario seething. Vittorio just folds his arms.
“I want the truth. I want to know what you’d do.”
“We would use our contacts in the police to persuade them you are confused and don’t understand what you are saying.”
“If that didn’t work?”
“It would,” he says.
“But what if it didn’t?”
“We would pay you off.”
“And if that didn’t?” I demand.
“Then we would fight you in court. You can dig all you like, Siena, but we are not in the business of harming women or civilians.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Dario says from beside me.
“Are you planning on doing that?” Edoardo demands.
“No, but I had to know. I had to understand what this was.”
Vittorio nods. “That makes you intelligent. I can’t fault that.” He turns to Dario. “Any sign of Rocco?”
“Not yet,” Dario mutters. “There’s an issue–we can’t check the huts of the other guests. We’ve booked almost all the rooms-almost, but not all. So there’s a chance he’s hiding in one of those.”
“Or he left the island,” Edoardo says. “It’d be the easiest thing in the world to get a boat and row to the nearest one.”
Vittorio groans. “He gave me a glass of champagne. Handed it to me with a smile on his face. A few minutes later… well, you all saw. How bad is the damage?”
“You’re sure he drugged you?” Edoardo says.
“Certain.”
“I knew it.”
