Page 33 of Betraying the Mafia Boss

“You don’t. Hate your brother, he brought this upon you.”

“Hate my brother?” I wipe angry sweat from my forehead and let out a maniac laugh. “How can I when you killed him? Shouldn’t his life at least been enough to pay what he owed you?”

Elio nods. Two of his bodyguards step forward, the grab me by my arms and toss me to his feet like I’m worth nothing. I expect it to end at that, but they march to the kitchen and when they return, they’re holding Naomi.

I shake my head, my tears spilling. “No, please. Don’t hurt her, she has nothing to do with this.”

Elio sits forward and holds my jaw. His grip is so tight I feel like my skull will crack any minute. “Don’t you for a moment think I’m letting you live because your miserable life is worth something. I’d kill you, your old Nana who’s a only a foot away from the grave anyway, and this bitch you call a best friend, and your lives won’t amount to anything. You have two months to lead Vincent to me.”

“How?” My voice trembles. “How do I do that?”

He stares me down like I just asked the stupidest question ever. “I guess your body is at least worth something, you seem to be making good use of it already.”

“Vincent is onto me.” I pause, trying my best to not choke on my tears. “He…What if he finds out?”

“It’s up to you to keep him from finding out.” He shoves me away and wipes his hand on a handkerchief one of his bodyguards hands him, as if I’m disgusting and a stain he wants to rid himself of. “Remember, one mistake and that old thing dies.”

Rage fills me. He just called my Nana a thing. He just spoke of her as if she’s useless. I hate him. I hate Elio so much I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if I got a chance. Bastards like him should rot in hell, not roam among us. “I know. How is my Nana doing? Can I at least speak to her?”

“Why should I allow it?”

“I just want to be sure she’s alive. I want to be sure she’s fine.”

Elio laughs, the wickedness in his tone resounding in the living room. “You’re afraid I killed her and I’m hiding it to use you.”

I dare to nod.

He slides his phone out from the breast pocket of his suit. The phone bleeps for a second, then someone answers. “Boss.”

“Where’s the old hag?” Elio asks.

“Right here, boss,” the voice at the other end of the line answers. “Should I put her on the phone.”

Elio nods. Another of his bodyguards takes the phone from him and positions the screen in my face.

My heart swells with sadness when I see my Nana, her grey hair, her almost grey eyes and how frail she looks as she smiles at me. “Bella.”

“Nana.” I quickly wipe my face with the back of my hand. My Nana is eighty-seven and she has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t know what’s going on. In fact, I’m the only person she remembers, so I can’t cry in front of her. “How are you?”

“Bella.” She repeats my name like it’s a beautiful song. Everyone else calls me Isa, but only my Nana and my Father have ever called me Bella. “You’re beautiful.” She laughs. “I miss seeing your beautiful face.”

“I miss you too, Nana.”

“Are you sad because you missed me?” Her smile droops and she frowns. “You’re more beautiful when you smile.”

I force a smile. “I’m not sad, Nana. I’m just happy because I get to talk to you again.”

Nana wants to say something, but Elio sighs. “Alright, enough of the family time.” He stands and the bodyguard ends the call. “Remember, you have just two months.”

Chapter Eleven

Isabella

It’s been an hour since Elio and his men left. I’m still sitting on the living room floor, staring at the door as if Elio will burst back in at any time. My brain is still trying to process everything that has happened, Elio’s threat, my Nana, and the fact I put Naomi’s life at risk. I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to her.

Naomi enters the living room with two cups of coffee. I’d expected her to run after Elio left, but she’s still here, trying to take care of me. “Here, take it.” She takes my hand and shoves a cup of coffee in it. “You need something hot to calm your nerves.”

“Thank you.” I take a sip of the coffee, letting the bitter taste hang on my tongue before I swallow.

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