Page 39 of Deal with the Devil
“I have just told you,” he says, his Italian accent punctuating each word. “We need you to step into this room.”
Another agent has appeared on my right. Both nudge me toward the door as panic slowly fills me up. The three of us walk into the room, which is empty except for a table and two chairs. The walls are covered in a coat of dull, sterile gray paint that’s almost depressing. On the opposite side of the room is a plain door painted the same sterile gray as the walls.
It looks more like it’s prepped for interrogations.
“I want my purse, and I want to know why I’m in here right now!” I yell, curling my hands into fists at my sides.
“I will tell you.”
The voice is coming from behind me. From through the door on the other side of the room—its opened and someone has walked through.
I go still for a moment, my pulse pounding harder in my veins, before I gradually turn around.
Il Diavolo stands in front of me, hands deep in his pants pockets, his devil’s mask obscuring his face.
“Hello, Portia,” he says in a smooth, mocking tone. “Long time no see.”
12
PORTIA
Of all thescenarios I imagined, this was never one of them. I never imagined I would find myself face-to-face with Il Diavolo like this. Not so suddenly, and not in an international airport, an environment that’s supposed to be secure and safe.
What the hell could possibly be going on?
Is Il Diavolo and the Belluccis’ reach so far they can easily take over airport security?
As I stand opposite the man in a tailored suit and terrifying devil’s mask, it seems I have my answer.
But I refuse to show even an ounce of fear. I won’t let Il Diavolo or any of his minions intimidate me. Instead, I lift my chin in defiance and square my shoulders in perfect posture. My expression remains neutral, just like I learned in media training for conducting interviews.
You never reveal your emotions; you never let them bleed onto your face.
You stay professional and poised at all times.
I’ve clearly underestimated Il Diavolo’s reach in Sicily, but he’s sure as hell underestimated me in many regards too.
Silence weighs heavily on the room, an oppressive force that becomes an undeniable third presence. He seems to be waiting on a reaction from me, so I decide to give him the opposite of what I gave airport security, asking a pointed question.
“What’s the play here? Interrogation? Seduction? Or just plain old kidnapping?” I ask.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’ssmirkingbehind that devil’s mask. “Depends how cooperative you are—and what sort of mood I’m in. I’ve heard you’ve been causing some trouble.”
“Is that so? And who told you that?”
“We’ll call them a few reliable sources.”
“Francesca? Natalia?” I rattle off coolly, folding my arms. “I must say, it is endearing you’ve kept in touch all these years.”
His head tilts partially to the side as though he’s trying to figure out what angle I’m playing. It makes me laugh despite myself.
“You don’t think I haven’t put two and two together by now, right?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak more clearly.”
“I know it’s you. It’s been you this entire time,” I say, an accusatory note cracking through my otherwise even tone. “I don’t know what kind of sorcery you pulled off the night in the warehouse, but you’ve been Il Diavolo all along, and you’ve been keeping it from me. This has all been some sick and twisted game you’ve been playing, but guess what? I’ve figured you out, Rafael. I know exactly who—and what—you are, and if you think you’ll get away with any of this, you’re mistaken. I’m not going to let that happen.”
The threat I’ve issued hangs in the air for seconds to come.
