Page 10 of The Devil's Fire

Michael sat on the coffee table in front of me and handed me a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” I gave him a small smile and took a big sip.

“You good?” He asked, leaning forward as he rested his arms on his thighs.

“Yeah, just so confused right now.” I sighed and sank back onto the couch.

Before Michael could reply, the door swung open, and my father stalked in. Michael and I both rose, watching him walk up to his desk. He leaned against it, fixing me with a stern glare.

“Do you have any idea of what kind of trouble you have put yourself into coming here?” He snapped, and my mouth dropped open.

“How the hell have I caused any trouble just by showing up?” I exclaimed.

“Watch your language.” He said firmly, and I scowled.

“I should be the one asking questions because that man, Damiano, said some really crazy stuff about me out there.” I crossed my arms and eyed him suspiciously.

Even though he was wrong about the last name and car accident, everything else was correct. As much as I would like to think it was coincidental, I knew it wasn’t.

“Why did he call me Volante, hmm? And why in the world did he say that I died three years ago?” My eyes narrowed.

My father closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I was trying to protect you, figlia. But I’m afraid I have done more harm than good.” He sighed and looked at me again.

“Protect me from what?” I uncrossed my arms as worry crept in.

Fuck, should I fear for my life now? Move to a different country and change my name to Fifo? But I don’t look like a Fifo.

“I don’t want you to get involved in this mess, but since he already knows you’re alive, there’s no point in hiding this from you.” He went to the minibar, filled up a glass, and chugged it in one gulp.

I waited for him to elaborate. My dad pointed at the couch for me to sit, and he settled on the one opposite me. Michael went and stood to the side and listened.

“I’m only going to tell you what you need to hear. When we started going into business with la Famiglia Bellavia, things were going great. Then it took a turn, and a war almost broke out. The last thing I wanted was for them to find you to use you against me. So, I faked your death.” He shrugged.

“What the actual fuck?” I shrieked, and my father shot me a warning look.

I was supposed to be dead?

“But he said Althaia Volante, I’m a Celano.” I pointed out.

“Celano is a name your mother and I both decided for you to have so people wouldn’t be able to track you down easily.” He explained. “I never gave you my family name because I want to protect the only daughter I have.”

So, that was what he meant when he said I was causing trouble. It made sense now. In all fairness, how was I supposed to know that? No one told me I was supposed to play fucking dead.

“I couldn't take the chance of you going around and introducing yourself as Volante. Word would get out, and he would track you down fast to get what he wants.” He sighed, and it left me stunned once again.

“So…” I trailed off. “Does that mean I’m in any kind of danger now? Should I be worried?” I asked, probably looking like a lost child.

If my father had faked my death, then that meant Damiano was more dangerous than I realized. I knew he was too gorgeous to be a sane man.

My father’s eyes softened.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. This is why Cara is getting married into their family. It’s for assurances for both families.”

“What?!” I rose from my seat as I erupted in disbelief. They were just giving Cara off as if she were some kind of peace offering? “You are sending your own niece into the arms of psychopaths!”

“She knows what she’s getting into, and she happily agreed.” My father retorted, getting to his feet.

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