Page 75 of Vicious Redemption

I sneer, the pleasure in ordering his tongue removed on the tip of my lips. But before any of that can happen, clamoring feet echo through the ballroom as Tia comes bursting in.

“Leo, wait!” she cries, her eyes wild as they search for me. Her brow is sweaty from exertion, making me wonder just what she had to do to escape her room.

My sneer bleeds from my face, replaced by sudden fury. How the fuck did she break free once again, and why does she always disobey me?

It’s become a guarantee with Tia. If I tell her to do anything, she will go to every length to do the opposite.

“Tia,” I growl.

The knowing smirk that stretches across Don Guerra’s face tells me he knows my frustration exactly. He’s reveling in the karma of my rage.

“I thought I made it perfectly clear that you were to stay?—”

“Please, just listen to me,” she begs, rushing forward as if she’s completely oblivious to the audience gathered before us. “I know about the autopsy. I know you blame my father, and if he were guilty of murdering yours, I would let you go through with it. I would not have disobeyed you again, even if that meant you killed my father.” Her voice hitches on the last part, signifying the pain it brings her to think of me doing anything of the sort.

“Tia—”

“No, please!” she begs, and the passion with which she says it wrenches my heart.

It doesn’t matter how angry I am with her. It doesn’t matter how deeply I hate her father for all the damage he’s done. I can’t deny her anything when she pleads like that. I’ve fallen too far. I’ve gone soft, and now, with all my men and the most prominent dons of Piovosa to witness it, I’m going to buckle to my wife’s heartbreaking entreaty.

Pressing my lips closed, I gesture for her to speak, then watch her guardedly as she closes the distance between us to grasp my hands. Her fingers are soft and warm, though they grip me with impressive urgency.

“It’s Elena—” she insists passionately, her onyx eyes peering up at me as she speaks only to me now. “She’s Don Fiore’s niece, right? The one who interrupted our dinner the other night. I believe she’s the one who actually killed your father.”

“Why would?—”

“Think about it. She told us she’s a nurse that night, and she was furious you had her removed from the restaurant. Not to mention, before Don Fiore surrendered to you, he was fully prepared to go to war against you. I don’t know if you’re aware of that or not, but who’s to say he’s not still fighting on a quieter front?”

Struck by her outlandish conspiracy, I find it so far-fetched, it almost has to be true. Because as outrageous as it sounds, she hasn’t said anything I disagree with. It’s not far from the kind of tactics the Fiore family has used in the past. Don Fiore has used Elena before. And after his behavior at the last meeting I called, followed by his bitterness today, I wonder if his act of disdain is something larger than I had realized.

I was so focused on Don Guerra’s betrayal, that I never broadened my focus.

“Yes, my father might have betrayed you,” Tia breathes, once again, her thoughts seeming to align perfectly with my own. “But I truly don’t believe he killed Don Moretti. And he didn’t send someone to kill him while we were out to dinner. So don’t punish him for a crime he didn’t commit.”

All eyes shift to me as Tia’s passionate speech comes to an end.

The room is deafeningly silent, not a single person stirring as they wait for my response. All I can think about is how fiercely Tia defends her father now. I wonder if she’ll ever feel so loyal to me. I doubt it, and the wave of violent jealousy that washes through me makes me want to kill Don Guerra solely out of envy. But she might be right.

So I won’t. Because as much as it hurts to find Tia standing against me for her family, I can’t deny I admire her for it. I respect her for going to such lengths to stand behind her beliefs. And if she’s right, then she’s saving me from starting a war with the wrong family.

She’s saving me from myself.

Turning slowly from Tia, I release her hands and step around her. From the corner of my eye, I catch her shoulders slumping in defeat. Soft sniffles tell me she’s begun to cry. But I don’t look back.

Instead, I stare Don Fiore down with a vicious gaze. “Is it true? Did your niece kill my father?” I demand.

The don shakes his head no, but something about the nervous twitching movement makes me think he’s lying.

I press further, digging for the truth. “I haven’t forgotten that you sent Elena to me in the past, hoping to manipulate me. You think I couldn’t see through her weak attempts to control me by spreading her legs?” I scoff. “And now she’s a nurse? That would make her fully capable of administering potassium chloride to my father without anyone being the wiser. So you really think you can stand there and lie to my face and dream you’ll get away with it?”

Again, the head shake. I can see the sweat on his brow now, the fear in his eyes. He’s guilty. And his typical arrogant bravado vanishes as he realizes there’s no escape. Half-cooked excuses tumble from his lips in nonsensical gibberish.

Raising two fingers, I signal my men behind Fiore, and they grab him with iron force.

“No, wait!” the don screams as they drag him forward. “Please, please, I wouldn’t… I could never… You have to believe… Oh god…” he blubbers, struggling fruitlessly as they shove him down onto his knees before me.

His cries are the only noise that fills the room. Everyone else is utterly silent. Motionless.

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