Page 150 of Wounded King
"Consider me shaking in fear," she tilts her head.
"I don't know what's going on, but this woman has another ace up her sleeve," Enzo warns.
I'm afraid he's right.
"Consider me intrigued in your little soap opera," Enzo continues, "so was Ledyanoy Prizrak your lover, then? I thought Fabio something was."
Normally, I would have warned Enzo off; he's only here out of courtesy, but I notice that he's getting to her, as her eyes now throw daggers at him.
"Typical male, you always think with your dicks. No, Igor wasn't my lover. He was my half-brother." Her words are more a challenge than an explanation.
I wrack my brain trying to remember Donna Margarita's lineage. I should have done my homework before I started sparring with her. Then again, I had no idea what I was in for. Deep down, I thought Luciano was right when he suggested I pissed her off by fucking or not fucking one of her daughters, but that isn't it at all. This goes much deeper.
She's worn the mask for so long, it must be second nature to her by now, because the moment it slips, she yanks it back into place like a curtain torn open and hastily drawn shut.
"Did you hire yourbrotherto kill Kingsley?" I ask.
She drums her fingers against her teeth and complains, "Oh dear, you're putting me into a very awkward position."
"How so?"
"Well, let me think, dear boy. Do I die, not telling you, and let you wallow in the question of why? Or do I lay out the ugly truth for you?"
"It won't change the outcome, you'll die today, either way," Enzo informs her.
She doesn't even acknowledge him. Instead, she stares right at me. Hate pours out of her in waves, then a Mona Lisa smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "You know what, I'll fill you in. Because I'm a good woman, and because I'd like to see you and your new little alliance fight shadows."
"However you wish to spend your last minutes, Donna Margarita," I say, keeping my cool, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much I want to know what she has to say.
I could have it tortured out of her, but right now, she looks like a woman ready to share her darkest secrets with someone, even if that someone is her henchman.
"You'll probably hear some of it anyway, so I might as well fill you in."
The table is just low enough to support her. She doesn't look at me or Enzo. Instead, her gaze drifts out through the hull window, dramatic as ever.
"You see, some thirty-something years ago, I had an affair. An affair that didn't go without consequences. Unfortunately, Leonardo, the weaselly coward, wouldn't own up to his responsibility. I had to have our baby in secret; if Riccy, my late husband, had found out, he would have killed me."
Right. Let's not pretend this was some tragic romance. I don't believe for one second that she fell for Leonardo—the Don at the time, Edoardo's father—she must have hunted him.From what I remember of the family's history around that time, Leonardo's wife had just died. Which meant the throne was wide open.
She wasn't trying to be loved. She was trying to be crowned.
And getting pregnant? That was her attempt to seal the deal. Tie herself to the Don with blood, not just sheets.
Too bad Leonardo was as ruthless as he was gutless.
"Leonardo? Isn't that your Don's father?" Enzo questions, and at my nod, he shrugs and turns to Margarita. "So why didn't you just pretend the kid was your husband's?"
"Because the asshole got a vasectomy after I gave birth to our son, Giovanni. He wanted to ensure I was faithful." Margarita spits and then continues, "You see, Riccy was quite a bit older than me and a very controlling asshole. I ran his business without one ounce of credit ever given to me," her eyes turn to me. "I was the one figuring out it was cheaper to snatch girls off the streets and sell them rather than having them fall for our men and get them hooked first. I was the one coming up with the idea to send for brides in Russia and Poland and all those God-forsaken places. Me!"
She nearly screams the last word. It clearly bothers her a great deal that she has always been forced to operate from behind the curtains, that nobody has ever known hercleverness.
That she is responsible for human trafficking the way it's done now doesn't seem to bother her one bit, but that's the branch her family ran: prostitution, drugs, and human trafficking. The latter was an addition to the family business introduced by whom everybody always assumed was Riccy Giordano. I'm not sure if the fact that it was a woman behind the human trafficking part makes the entire affair worse or not.
"Any more questions, or do you want me to continue?" Margarita tilts her head questioningly at Enzo, who waves his hand for her to continue.
"Cigarette?" Margarita asks Enzo and me. Neither one of us smokes, but some of my men do. With a sigh to show her how much she's testing my patience, I open the door and relay her request to Marco, who is outside the door. He pulls out a packet of smokes and a lighter.
I place them on the table next to her.
