Page 48 of Ruthless King

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because we have new information. Giovanni Costa’s body was found in the backyard of his house.”

My entire body goes numb, then it’s filled with shockwaves. I stumble slightly, and Nico steadies me.

But Morgan saw that. His eyes narrow as he continues to look at me.

“This is officially a murder investigation now,” Chase says.

“Am I a suspect?” Nico asks.

“I don’t know.” Chase tries to lean against one of the art exhibits then thinks better of it. “Do you think you’re a suspect.”

“I told you already I don’t know any Giovanni Costa. If you have any more questions, you can contact my lawyer.”

“Why don’t you talk with us again, Mrs. Mancini?” Chase says, turning to me.

“She has a lawyer, too, you can speak to,” Nico says before I can say anything. “Now, leave my wife and me alone.”

“Come on, Mrs. Mancini,” Chase says. “If you know anything, we could help you. We could keep you safe.”

That’s bullshit, and I know it. If these cops really wanted to keep me safe, they wouldn’t be telling me they could keep me safe right in front of my husband, one of their suspects. Why is everyone trying to hurt me? These cops, Beatrice.

Ironically, the only one who seems to care about my safety is Nico.

“You heard my husband. Leave us alone.” My words come out stronger than I expect, especially when I feel weak. They found my father’s body—the one I helped bury. The police could figure out who I am, and then I would be screwed.

I could go to prison for the rest of my life.

“Where were you on August 15?” Morgan asks us.

“As I said, speak to my lawyer,” Nico repeats.

I know exactly where I was. I was burying my father after I found his dead body in the living room.

“All right,” Chase says, nodding for Morgan to follow. “But know we’re watching you, Mr. Mancini.” Both detectives walk away, though not without Morgan giving me one last lingering look.

“Nico?” I ask.

“We’re fine. If they had anything on me, they’d be arresting me right now.”

My heart stutters. “Do they have anything on you? Anything that could come out?”

“No. I didn’t kill Giovanni Costa.”

The intensity with which he says it makes me believe him. But just because he didn’t kill my father with his own hands doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who did. And Nico may have sent the order.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nico is tense on the car ride back home. He keeps jerking the car around corners and swerving hard, almost hitting other people.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be driving right now,” I say, gripping my seat tightly.

“I’m fine,” he growls, and I flinch. It’s the first time he’s ever sounded harsh with me. I know it’s because the detectives rattled him, but still, it hurts.

“Nico, slow down.”

“We’re fine,” he snaps back.

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