Page 39 of Maddest Temptation

“Sit down, Francesca.”

I didn’t.

“How long have you been using?” he inquired coldly.

“That’s kind of insensitive to ask, don’t you think?”

He offered me a look that told me he wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Well, if you wish to know, I started using the day I was married. I took some of my mother’s pills. From there on, I tried other things, I don’t discriminate.”

He was silent for a while, drinking my words in, having him in my small apartment was too much. His presence was too consuming. His scent was starting to cling to the walls around me.

It had been a day since I last saw him, and I needed more time to process everything that had happened. Seeing him fight Gianluca Gallo had been a massive turn-on—which explained how obviously deranged I was. Who would react that way?

And his body… I still can’t forget how perfectly sculpted he was, like one of Michelangelo’s artworks. Focus, Francesca, that’s not important right now.

“What do you want, Cassio?” I snapped out of my trance before it took me places it shouldn’t.

“To talk about your husband.”Well, that was like an ice-cold bucket of water poured over my head.

“Do you want some whiskey? You drink whiskey, right? It’s the only thing that’s left. I would’ve offered vodka, but I drank it.”

I was rambling, but I took the whiskey, and two glasses, and filled them, handing one to him. Cassio looked at me but said nothing, he didn’t even reach for his cup. Fine. I downed both without even making a face, I was that good.

“Are you nervous?”Yeah, after what happened, I was.

“I’m tired, stressed, and annoyed, all I wanted was to enjoy a day with my dog, and you’ve ruined it.”

“Trust me, Francesca, I haven’t even begun to ruin your day.”

“Great!” I cheered. Just fucking great. “Could you get to it then so I can go back to my life?”

He took the bottle and moved it away from me as far away as he could put it. “Paolo Biancini,” he began, “your late husband, embezzled money from the Outfit, meaning all the money that’s currently in your bank account does not belong to you.”

I laughed.

He didn’t. He was serious.

“So, what? You’re saying he stole?”

“Yes and no.”

“Well then, by all means, please tell me.” My blood was beginning to boil. He didn’t seem a bit phased by all of this.

“The money is clean, it was his, but there is no telling where it came from.”

“And how is that my problem?” Cassio tapped his fingers against the table. “Cassio, I didn’t… I didn’t know.” I didn’t steal from the Outfit. I would never do that; I knew what happened to people who did, and it was the kind of horror no one should go through.

“Your father wanted to send our enforcer.”

The alcohol suddenly didn’t taste so nice, and it twisted inside my stomach, wanting to come back up again. Why was I so surprised? Why did it still hurt to hear that my father would’ve sent the enforcer to beat the shit out of me for something I didn’t do? I worried at my lips and wished I had something to do, to hold. My hands were sitting there, idly doing nothing, and I had an impression they were shaking.

“And you didn’t?” I asked.

“I don’t beat innocent women.”

“Who says I’m innocent?” He raised a brow doubtingly.

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