Page 19 of Vicious Reign

He straightens up and pins me with a look that’s so cold, nearly a one-eighty from ten seconds ago. “Don’t make me regret cutting that, or I’ll be forced to do something I don’t want to.”

I nod, and that seems enough to placate him for now. It’s not in my best interest to make a move yet. In this small of a space, the likelihood of getting shot is high—too high. Especially if I have a long way to go to get back to my girl. I can’t do that with a bullet hole in my gut.

So for now, I’m going to play the good little hostage and eat the delicious burger that I pray isn’t poisoned.

It’s a little awkward, but I manage to get the burger unwrapped and stuff it in my face. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until that telltale scent of greasy, fried food hit my nose.

We’re quiet as we eat, and before I’m ready, he bends down to attach a new zip tie. I watch him as he cleans up the wrappers, even going so far as to brush the crumbs off the coverlet and into his palm before brushing them off into the paper bag.

I shift in my seat to a slightly different position. “So, what’s your name?”

He cocks his head to the side and looks at me before he takes a seat on the side of the bed. He leans over, his elbows on his knees and his gun dangling from his fingers in between his legs.

“Out of all the things you could’ve asked me, you ask me my name? Why?”

I shrug a shoulder. “We’re in a hotel room together and we just shared a meal. Seems like the next logical step.”

He tilts his head, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. Like someone took an eraser to his expression, it’s wiped clean a moment later. “I knew it’d be a mistake to kill you right away. Man, Nico’s going to eat glass when I tell him I won the bet.”

He chuckles and pulls out a pack of gum from his pocket. He pops a piece in his mouth and chews it slowly, nodding a few times like he’s listening to someone. I lean to the side as much as I can to see if there are comms in his ears, but I can’t see anything from this angle.

He expels a breath and focuses back on me. “Okay. I ran through the likelihood of a chat being detrimental to our goal, and it seems it’s your lucky day.”

My head still feels foggy, even if my stomach has been temporarily satisfied. And at the rate this guy switches topics and emotions, I’m going to need all my wits about me to get out of this.

“Well, I don’t feel very lucky. I feel like shit actually.”

When in doubt, lead with humor. My mom used to say it was part of my charm, but my mom drinks like a fish, so I stopped taking her words as anything other than a grain of salt years ago.

He scans me from head to toe with a clinical sort of detachment. A chill zips down my spine at the look in his eye. It’s the same kind of look as my father and uncles would get, usually before something violent happens.

He sits down on the edge of the bed again and faces me, like we’re two friends having a casual chat. “I could see that. It’s probably whatever Mario’s men gave you to knock you out longer. What did you do to piss off Mario anyway? He’s a real prick, but he was adamant that Dad would love this surprise.”

I rear back and stare at him, eyes wide and mouth open. “Dad?”

“Right, I forgot to introduce myself. Man, I never get to do that anymore. Most people recognize me on sight.” He smiles at me then, a manic sort of glee etched in his features. “I’m Tommaso Santorini. Vito Santorini’s son.”

I feel the blood drain from my face and I have to swallow over the ball of horror lodged in the back of my throat. My predicament has just gotten messier.

Tommaso’s eyes light up. “Welcome to Vegas.”

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