Page 91 of The Deal

My eyes are locked with hers as I speak, and I can see the steely determination reflecting back at me. She’s going to try and flee again the moment I turn my back, but she’s not getting away that easily. I’ll fucking chain her to me if it comes to that. I’m not letting her go without an explanation. She needs to understand we’re not giving her a choice in this. She’s going to hear us out whether she wants to or not. I’m not the villain she thinks I am.

I return to tending to her damaged feet, each swipe of the cloth grating against my raw nerves, my anger simmering just beneath the surface. Every silent flinch I get in return seems to stoke the fire burning inside me.

My gaze moves to Angelina, who’s sitting quietly off to the side, wringing her hands in her lap. “Start talking,” I tell her.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Every-fucking-thing,” I retort. “Start from the very beginning.”

I know the gist of the story, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are parts that I’m not even privy to. My father was a man who kept his cards close to his chest. Hewas a firm believer that things were kept on a need-to-know basis.

I do, however, remember the day he found out that Theodore Carmichael was skimming the books. He was livid and swiftly left on his private jet to sort it out, so to speak. He returned later that night with a frightened, sobbing Angelina in tow. I wasn’t even aware that Chloe existed at that stage.

“I am not interested in anything either of you have to say,” Chloe chimes in. The disgust in her voice cuts me to the very core.

“Tough shit,” I reply. “You’re going to hear us out whether you want to or not.”

Angelina sniffles as she begins speaking. “I never wanted to leave you,donzella. Please know that.”

“But you did,” she spits.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Hmm,” she hums, turning her face to the side in an attempt to ignore us both.

“Your father used to work for Giovanni Mancini,” she continues.

“Ha! Dad was in the Mafia? I highly doubt that.”

“He was Giovanni’s accountant.” That admission gets her attention as her head snaps back to her mother. She doesn’t say anything in reply, but she’s listening now, at least. “Well, he was until he found out your father was stealing from him.”

“Bullshit,” she shrieks. “Dad is a lot of things, but he’s no thief.”

“It’s true,” I add.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe either of you?”

Angelina disregards her daughter’s sharp remark and presses on. “He showed up at the house late one night with a couple of his men. I knew your father was workingfor him, but I’d never met him face-to-face until that moment.”

“So you took one look at the mob boss and thought he’d be a better choice for you? Dad loved you … he worshipped the ground you walked on.”

“As I did him.”

“Obviously,” Chloe says with sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“It’s true,” her mother replies, sniffling again. “Giovanni didn’t want your father to pay back the money; he wanted something more valuable to us … you.”

“What?” I growl; that’s something I wasn’t aware of.

“He said if we didn’t give her up willingly, he was going to kill us both and take Chloe anyway.”

That sounds like something my father would say, but unlike me, his threats carried merit.

“She was only a kid … what did he plan to do with her?” I ask.

“He said if she looked anything like me”—Angelina’s eyes briefly move in my direction—“you and your brother would enjoy her.”

“Dante and I were grown-arse men; we wouldn’t have touched her with a ten-foot pole.”

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