Page 88 of The Bonventi Secret
"Close the door, I need to discuss something with you," I say.
Gabriel shuts the door and looks at me, waiting for me to speak. "Let me guess, you're coming with me."
LIVIA - 33
Joseph Rossi is short and well over 300 pounds. He breathes heavily when he talks, which he's been doing for the last five minutes, trying to pass idiotic thinking as truth. He's literally selling me on how he's better than Enzo. How the Rossi family is better than the Bonventi family.
Actually, the only thing I like about him is that he's talking to me like I'm steeped in the mafia world and know all about it.
I have no fucking clue what he's talking about, obviously, but he doesn't know that. I've also found myself up against an old pipe, and I've been ever so gently rubbing the zip ties binding my hands together against it, working them down so I can hopefully pull my hands apart and they'll break.
"So you see," Joseph says, pausing to catch his breath, "the Bonventis, they're all flash. No substance. But us Rossis? We're the real deal."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Is that so?" I ask, injecting just enough curiosity into my voice to keep him talking.
As Joseph launches into another long-winded explanation of the Rossi family's superiority, my mind drifts. The drugs are wearing off, leaving behind a pounding headache and a bitter taste in my mouth. But it's not just the physical discomfort that's gnawing at me.
It's Enzo.
Our last fight plays on repeat in my head, each remembered word a fresh wound. The fury in his eyes when I confessed to reading the diary. The way his voice dropped to that icy tone that I'd never heard before.
"You betrayed my trust," he had said, his words hurt because I know I had.
And now, as I sit here in this godforsaken basement, I realize how right he was. How fucking stupid I'd been.
I thought I was being clever, trying to understand him better. But all I'd done was prove that I couldn't be trusted. That I was just like anyone else who'd let him down in life.
The regret I feel actually hurts; it's something I've never experienced before, and it's not just about the diary anymore. It's about every moment I wasted fighting against what we had. Every time I pushed him away because I was upset and then scared of how much he was starting to mean to me.
God, what I wouldn't give to see him now. To tell him how sorry I am. To feel his arms around me, keeping me safe.
A sharp pain in my wrists brings me back to the present. I've been rubbing the zip ties so hard that I've drawn blood. But I can feel them starting to give. Just a little more...
"Are you listening?" Joseph's irritated voice cuts through my thoughts.
I plaster on a smile, ignoring the way my split lip stings. "Of course, Mr. Rossi. You were saying about your businesses being superior to Enzo's?"
He narrows his eyes, suspicious, but launches back into his monologue. I let out a quiet breath of relief and return to my task.
As I work, I can't help but think about how different Enzo is from this pompous windbag. Enzo, with his quiet intensity and razor-sharp mind. The way he could convey more with a single look than Joseph has managed in his entire speech.
I remember our nights in the library and how he always challenged me, pushed me to think deeper, to be better.
This guy is pushing me to just give up.
And then there were the moments of unexpected tenderness. The way he'd brush a strand of hair from my face with such gentleness it made my heart ache. The soft kisses he'd press to my temple when he thought I was asleep.
Fuck, I miss him. More than I ever thought possible.
A sudden snap behind me sends a jolt of adrenaline through my system. The zip ties have broken.
I keep my hands behind my back, not wanting to alert Joseph or his sidekicks. My mind races, trying to formulate a plan. I'm outnumbered and unarmed, but I'm also the only one here who knows I'm no longer restrained.
As I weigh my options, I realize something. The fear and uncertainty I felt when I first woke up in this hellhole have been replaced by something else. Something harder, colder.
Determination.
I'm getting out of here. I'm going back to Enzo. And God help anyone who tries to stop me.
