Page 22 of Ruthless Mafia Heir

As she reaches the penthouse and steps through the door, her eyes widen.

"You live here?" she gasps as she flicks her gaze around.

"Not full-time," I reply. I head inside to make myself a drink at the cart positioned next to the picture windows overlooking the city.

"So, you have other places?"

"Of course."

I pour her a vodka on the rocks and hand it to her. For a moment, she hesitates, staring down at the liquid as though she thinks I might have spiked it with something. And then, she takes a sip and crosses her arms over her chest.

"So, what am I doing here, exactly?"

"I need to know why you said that name to me," I tell her. I’m doing my best to keep my voice steady. The last thing I want is for her to realize how close she’s come to busting open the truth about me or how dangerous it might be if she goes any further. I feel a surge of protectiveness toward her, knowing what the Silencio crew might do to her if they found out an outsider was looking in.

"I... I..." She trails off. She’s trying to come up with a lie. I pour myself a drink, letting the silence flood around us, letting her know I’m not going to give her any sort of out here. Finally, her shoulders slump.

"When we kissed at the party, I felt something in your blazer pocket. I know I shouldn’t have, but I... I took it."

My heart skips a beat. The pin, the Silencio pin. It’s been handed down through generations of the leaders of the club, and since it was gifted to me, I’ve been calling the shots. I always keep it on me when I’m out and about, just in case I might need to prove my credentials, but she took it?

"I’m sorry," she blurts out. "I-I don’t usually steal things, I promise. I just... I wanted a piece of you. That's all."

My chest softens slightly. I don’t know if she’s telling the truth or just spinning me what she thinks I want to hear, but I don’t care. I want her to give me a reason to trust her right now.

"And when I saw what it was, that thistle, I realized I had seen that same symbol all over campus," she goes on. "And I started looking into what it might have meant. I was going through this old book on the history of the university, and I found an invitation in the pages, an invitation to a Silencio meeting. That’s how I found out the name."

She chews on her lip, then sips her drink as I take in what she’s just told me. Is it the truth? It’s a convincing lie, if not. I narrow my eyes at her.

"What do you know about Silencio?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing, really. Just the name. And that you’ve got something to do with it...?" She poses that last statement like a question, asking me to fill in the blanks for her. "What is that place?"

I grit my teeth and stare back at her for a moment, calculating.

If I’m being honest, telling her anything here is a real risk, and I don’t want to give in to it. But there’s a part of me, a stupid part of me, that wants to tell her everything. I’ve been holding on to so many secrets for so damn long now, I don’t even know where to start, how to begin to unpack all of it. But if she wants to know, maybe I can give her something, just enough, that will make her lose interest in pursuing it any further and accept everything I tell her at face value.

"It’s a society for the most powerful people at our university," I tell her bluntly. "Not the kind of place you can earn your way into. Either you’re from one of the families who’ve been part of that place for generations, or you’re not, and you never hear about Silencio. Hence the thistle. Sharp. Hard to get close to."

She nods, taking it in.

"And you’re... you’re part of it?"

"I’m the head of it."

Her eyes widen. "The head of it?"

"I’m a Devereaux," I reply, as though it should have been obvious. "With who my father is, it’s not like they were going to give it to anyone else."

"Your father?"

"My late father, yes," I reply, gritting my teeth slightly. It still stings to think of his death, even though it has been long enough now that it shouldn’t.

"He’s a... he was a man with a lot of influence in this city," I explain to her. "He ran a few... successful businesses."

"Like the restaurant?" she prompts me. I can’t help but smirk.

"You could say that, yes."

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