Page 243 of Rosetti Family New York
"Maybe," I say. I give her the look that drives her insane, the one that says I own the place, the world, and her. She doesn't flinch, holding her ground. "I want the truth," she demands, a challenge in her voice as she crosses her arms defiantly.
I nod, slow, careful, considering my response. "It's the only thing you're getting, princess. But it's not going to be pretty," I warn. I want to tell her that I'll drag the truth from Reyes if Ihave to. That she's with the wrong man if she wants soft edges. But she already knows that, and she's still here.
She chews her lip before she finally answers. "Pretty is overrated." I stare at her, letting her see every hard edge, every dark corner.
I cross my arms, feel the leather of my gloves tighten over the bones beneath. She watches me like she's seeing a storm. "Worried what I'll think of you?" she asks. "Worried I'll be scared?"
"Won't be the first time you've seen me like this." She tilts her head, and it's the cutest thing. The cutest fucking thing. "Or the last," she says.
Before I can answer, we hear footsteps. Leonardo shoves Ethan inside and gives me a nod. Ethan's face is a mixture of fear and defiance, with a bloodied lip and a bruise forming around his eye. His hair is a mess, his clothes rumpled, and there's a haunted look on his face that wasn't there when we last saw him at his apartment.
"You got this, brother," Leo says. Then he looks at Sloane, raises one eyebrow. "You sure you want to be here?"
"Duh." Leo leaves with a quick grin, then we're alone. Just me, Sloane, and Ethan fucking Reyes.
"You?" Ethan's voice is barely a whisper, his eyes wide and wild. He doesn't know whether to be pissed or terrified. "Me," I say. "But it's her you gotta watch out for."
I nod toward Sloane, and as soon as Ethan sees her, he breaks out into a sweat. "I didn't kill her. I swear to God, I didn't touch her," he says. His voice cracks with genuine emotion. It's not all fear – there's grief there too, raw and unmistakable.
I step closer, my voice calm and deadly. "No one said you did." Ethan's eyes flick to the locked door. "Then why the hell am I down here like an animal?"
My lips curve. "Because you know who did." Ethan flinches. I study him. This isn't guilt. It's fear.
Ethan takes a step back, but I block his way. "Don't try it, Reyes," I growl. "You know it won't end well." He shifts his feet, moves like he's trying to think of an escape.
"I can't tell you anything," he says, eyes flicking from me to Sloane and back again. "You will," I tell him. "One way or another." He stumbles over his own words, his own fear.
"You don't know what you're asking," he says. "You don't know how dangerous it is." He shakes his head, panicked, cornered. "Please," he says. "Please, Sloane. You don't understand."
I crack my knuckles, slow and deliberate. Ethan's eyes are fixed on my hands. He doesn't know if I'll use them or not, and it scares him more than the idea of the Callahans.
His eyes flick to me, pleading. There's a desperation in them that wasn't there when we dragged him from his apartment. A wounded animal look that makes me think there's more to this story. Sloane clears her throat.
"Ethan, please. Just tell me what happened," she says. He goes quiet. His shoulders slump, like he's carrying a weight too heavy to bear.
I hit him once, and the breath leaves his body. My fist connects with his stomach, not full force, but enough to double him over.
Sloane's mouth is a tight line, her eyes on mine. But she doesn't flinch. She's tougher than I thought.
Ethan doubles over, pain racking his thin frame. When he straightens up, there are tears in his eyes. Not from the blow – these have been building for weeks.
He looks at Sloane, sees her relentless eyes, and it breaks him. "She found money," he gasps. "In her accounts."
I glance at Sloane, watching the way her expression changes. "The Callahans?" she asks.
"I didn't want her involved," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I fucking loved her, Sloane. I warned her. I told her to leave it alone. But Maddy… she was fire, you know?" He swallows hard, a sob caught in his throat. "She figured out something wasn't right with the money. She saw transfers. She thought someone was laundering through the ring."
Sloane freezes. "Was she right?"
He nods, pain in his eyes. He looks down at his hands, like he can't bear to meet her gaze. "The Callahans got access to her accounts somehow. Not through me – I swear to God. I'd never do that to her." His voice breaks. "They ran cash through them, keeping it out of their own so it wouldn't get back to the Roset—to you. She found out. She fucking flipped. Said she'd go to the cops, or tell your dad, Sloane, or… I don't even know. She was scared. And she was pissed."
I let him talk, watching as he gets tangled up in his own words, in his own emotions. There's real grief there, raw and ugly. It almost makes me feel sorry for him.
"She wanted to confront them," Ethan says. "I tried to stop her. I tried." Sloane's face goes pale, then red, then pale again.
"She never listens," Ethan says, his voice breaking. He corrects himself: "She never fucking listened." Sloane wraps her arms around herself like she's the one who just got hit.
I feel the rage, the frustration, the fucking helplessness. Sloane's fists curl at her sides.
