Page 14 of Tormented Diamonds
I blink, the image fading away, leaving only a distinguished older man with an unreadable stare.
Jesus Christ, pull it together.
Clearing my throat, I extend my hand for a polite greeting. Instead, I feel Gianni stiffen beside me when the man brings it to his lips for an uncomfortably long kiss.
“Boss of all bosses,” Toscano translates, staring down at me.
My teeth slam together at the condescension in his tone. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter who this asshole is or what he’s done. I’ve heard this chauvinistic tune sung by richer, more impressive men than him. Misogyny sounds the same whether backed by bullets or credentials.
“I know what it means, Mr. Toscano,” I clip.
“Forgive me.” The words are as sincere as a death row apology. “I wasn’t aware Italian was a common study in Providence.”
“It isn’t, but as a doctor with three degrees, I don’t consider myself to becommonin any capacity.”
His cutting stare is like a laser hell-bent on burning me from the inside out. The harder I try to stand still, the more I shift from foot to foot. Finally, he turns to Gianni, a dark expression sweeping across his tan face. “You may have met your match, Marchesi. Tread carefully.”
The redirect draws an audible exhale from my lungs.
However, Gianni’s jaw clenches, the cords in his neck pulled taut. “Likewise,” he says so sharply, even I flinch.
The two men exchange silent glares, each waiting for the other to speak. I don’t know if it’srespect or rage I see glimmering in Toscano’s dark eyes, but when he turns to me and his lips peel back in a tight smile, I realize I don’t care. Both options chill me to the bone.
I have no idea how much time passes, but when I feel Gianni’s fingers press against my ribs and steer me away, I know it was too much. Once we’re secluded in a quiet alcove, he pushes me gently against the wall and lowers his head for an uncomfortably long moment of direct eye contact.
I sigh. “Go ahead, say it.”
“He’s trying to get in your head. You can’t let him.”
“You’d think that wouldn’t be a problem, but…” Frustrated, I wrap both hands around my glass like a lifeline. “I’ve never met someone like that before.”
“You’re a psychiatrist. Flip the script on him.”
“I tried,” I groan, my body slumping. “It’s like he…”
“Got off on it?” At my reluctant nod, he gives me a low chuckle. “Why do you think that is, Becca?”
“Because he’s a sociopath?”
“No, because he’s a criminal who sees himself as a master of intimidation and manipulation. Sound familiar?”
“Are you seriously drawing parallels between you and that man? Because the depth of derangement is off-the-charts unfixable in one of you.”
“Then combat it with the same stone-wall bullshit you used on me. It kept me at arm’s length.” The scent of burnt pine envelops me as he braces his palm on the wall above my head, a cocky smirk spreading across his face. “Well, for a few weeks, at least.”
The corners of my lips twitch. “Jokes, really?”
“Made you smile, didn’t I?” A buzzing between us prompts him to step back and slide his hand into his pocket, returning with his phone. He stares at the screen, a line forming between hiseyebrows.
“Everything all right?”
He glances up, then quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, that was Owen reminding me about our meeting.”
“Now?”
“It’s bad timing, I know. But this is important, and it can’t wait.”
Even in the muted lighting, I see the truth in his eyes. There’s more to this than simple mafia business, more he isn’t telling me. It twists a hard-edged knife in my gut.
