Page 86 of Deal with the Devil
Adagio can stew in his self-righteousness. Maurizio can talk about loyalty like some old guard dog. Her sister can scream bloody murder for all I care. None of it matters.
Not anymore.
Because maybe I’ll keep her after all.
I’ll keep her as the ultimate prize for myself. And what the fuck wouldhedo then?
Not a damn thing. Because I’m Il Diavolo.
And if I want her, I’ll have her.
22
PORTIA
There’ssomething especially cruel about being caged in the place you once called home.
I peer out the huge penthouse windows at the city I’ve lived in all my life, and every street corner holds a memory of a time I was happy and carefree.
Now it’s like I’m a ghost existing outside the world I was once a part of, and it breaks my heart a little more each day.
A sigh leaves my lungs as I turn away from the window and follow Mara to the dining room where breakfast has been prepared for me.
It’s funny, because I once found Rafael’s penthouse lush and luxurious, and though it still is, while it’s under Il Diavolo’s authoritarian rule, it’s lost any of its past luster.
These days, the penthouse feels cold and sterile.
Oppressive.
I sit down to my meal at the otherwise empty table and eat alone. On the mornings I used to stay over at Rafael’s for breakfast, he’d often come out and have coffee with me. We’d sitand talk and even look over the morning paper. He was always so interested in current events and the world around him.
Always deeply engrossed in anything relating tome.
He wanted to know my thoughts on what was going on in the city, and I loved hearing him talk about business.
At the time, I hadn’t realized they were things I would miss. Soon we’d break up and things would become so complicated and insane I’d wind up held captive by him.
…at least to the untrained eye.
A man that vaguelylookslike Rafael Calderone but is really some manifestation of evil living inside him.
I pick at the scrambled egg whites, sautéed veggies, and toast I’ve been served for breakfast and wonder how there’s possibly a fix for this.
How can I escape this situation? Is there even a way to help Rafael and destroy Il Diavolo?
Mara takes the plate away once I’m done pretending like I’m eating. The raven-haired Italian woman has refrained from smiling at me or giving any sort of sign that she was once so warm and welcoming.
It seems everyone who works for Il Diavolo knows to censor themselves even when he’s not around.
The one good thing about being held captive in the penthouse over the Belluccis’ villa in Sicily is that I have more freedom to roam. At the Belluccis’, I was specifically restricted to the bedroom where I was confined at almost all hours of the day.
At Rafael’s penthouse, it seems Il Diavolo has instructed his staff I’m allowed to wander through most of the penthouse except for a few select rooms, like his bedroom, office, and any others that likely contain important information I’m not supposed to know about.
But being an investigative reporter, I can’t help taking a peek or two.
There seems to be some sort of hub for the men in his employ. I notice they come and go throughthatroom specifically, most of them armed.
They were the same men I often saw flanking Rafael. Except now it seems they’ve accepted Il Diavolo is officially their new boss.
