Page 47 of Passion and Revenge

“D’Addario.” I smile into the phone. A smile I don’t feel. “I won’t ask how you got my number. I’m impressed, actually. Did you need something?”

“You have something that belongs to me.”

I take a second to examine the irrational anger at hearing Ivan call Sienna his.

“And what may that be?” I ask as I step away from the warehouse with a critical eye on the men switching money crates into children’s school bags for transportation.

His sigh is weary, and I wait for the sense of victory to consume me, but there’s nothing. My jaw clenches.

“I miss her,” the prosecutor says. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Of course I do, I want to scream. I know what it feels like to miss someone. For the first few months after Pasquale died, I still put his bowl out in the kitchen, waiting for him to come back and have a meet with me.

“It’s me you want, not her,” Ivan growls. “Let her go, and you can do anything you want with me. Just, please—” His voice breaks on the last word.

It’s almost impossible to reconcile this man with the man who stood tall and strong in that courtroom and eviscerated my brother into pieces.

“Two for the price of one,” I reply. “I like the sound of that.”

“Sienna is innocent,” he barks into the phone desperately. “She’s pure, and I kept her away from all this because I didn’t want to see her touched by the dark reach of my profession. She’s an innocent.”

Memories of her fucking herself on my fingers, her juices forming a pool under her, assault me. There was nothing innocent about that. I open my mouth to tell him as much, to tell him how depraved his innocent daughter is. To tell him how she had spread her legs and taken every inch of me like she was made for me.

“Just let her go,” he adds weakly.

Never.

My hands curl tighter around the glass of the phone. Any harder, and the back glass will shatter in my hands.

“No,” I state.

“She doesn’t deserve this. She has people here who love her, who miss her.”

My eyes narrow. “Like that bulldog cop Salvadore?”

There’s a pause, and then he adds, “And Catherina.”

My vision goes red. He wants me to let his daughter go so she can go running into the arms of that little prick who will never be able to give her what she wants?

No.

If that is what is waiting for Sienna on the outside, then she’s better off with me.

“I’ll let Sienna go when I’m good and ready to. Not a moment sooner,” I inform him. “Maybe by then, she’ll no longer be an innocent artist. Maybe she’ll be?—”

“Don’t you dare touch my daughter, or I’ll kill you, Mancini.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.

My mouth curves up at his words. I haven’t just touched her. I’ve desecrated her and ruined her for that testosterone-fueled cop. She’ll never look at him as anything more than a poor replacement. Or any man, for that matter.

“Can I speak to her at least?” Ivan pleads. “I know she’ll be worried and?—”

“That’s not my business, D’Addario. I’m not a boarding school matron or a cop at the precinct. I’m not keeping your daughter for you until you can come and collect her.”

He lets out a frustrated breath. “A text then. You don’t have to give me a reply. I just need her to know I’m okay.”

I shift my gaze to where Gonzales is gesticulating at one of the men. If I have to guess, I’ll say someone has managed to mess up my clear orders. I should shoot his fingers off.

“Don’t bother me again, prosecutor,” I tell him. “I’m a busy man, and you should be praying that I stay too busy to be able to pay your daughter a visit.”

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