Page 60 of The One
I wouldn’t put it past them. The Contis aren’t the forgiving type.
My stomach churns violently, the same sick feeling that always hits me when I think of the man I almost married.
Father studies me, his expression unreadable. He’s calmer than when I last saw him, with no trace of his explosive temper. He’s the cool, controlled figure he’s always presenting to the world, the future De Marco consigliere in every way.
But I’m not fooled. After our last encounter, I know his icy calm can vanish in an instant, like a hair trigger waiting to snap.
My heart pounds, afraid for the moment his control might slip. Mateo isn’t going to come to my rescue this time. Nobody will.
His silence stretches, thick with uncertainty. He’s doing this intentionally, so I wonder what will happen next.
And it’s damn well working.
I wait with bated breath to see if he’s here to punish me, demand something more, or worse. The weight of the unknown is suffocating.
“How did you know I was here?” I eventually crack, my voice barely finding its way out. It seems trapped somewhere deep inside me, but I have to break the silence.
Father chuckles. It’s a dark sound and devoid of any mirth or humor.
“You don’t really believe I don’t know where you are at all times, do you?”
An icy shiver runs down my spine. His cold, penetrating stare tells me he’s speaking the truth.
Or is he?
He could be bluffing, he’s good at that.
My mind is muddled, unsure of anything anymore. But the proof is right in front of me, isn’t it? He found me, after all.
Does he have an inside man at Carloso who told him I was going out for the day? Of course he would. But that doesn’t explain how he knew I was at the Colosseum. Was someone following me? I didn’t notice anyone.
Oh my God! Do I have a tracker on me?
It’s common in our circles to hide trackers in jewelry, but I’m not wearing any.
Could I have an implant? I would know, wouldn’t I?
My mind goes crazy with possibilities.
Merda.
How much of a control freak is he?
“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going to happen to you next, after you humiliated me and disgraced our family name.” Father’s smooth voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. Though calm, I can still detect a hint of his anger simmering beneath the surface.
“It is unforgivable. Unsurprisingly, the Contis want nothing to do with you anymore. That match I worked long to secure? Gone. Down the drain.”
He pauses, and I can’t help the small breath of relief that escapes me. The looming shadow of still having to marry Renaldo dissolves, but any joy I might have felt at the news vanishes instantly with Father’s next words.
“I expect you to redeem yourself and make up for your mistakes.”
He watches me, waiting for a response, but I stay silent. I don’t like where this is going.
Father raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting me to say something, to tell him I’ll do anything for his forgiveness.
But that would be a lie. I don’t care about his forgiveness.
I didn’t do anything wrong. Vomiting on the priest wasn’t planned. It just happened. Same with fainting.
