Page 24 of Brutal Legacy

I nodded. “It’s a no. I don’t have the time or inclination.”

“I get that, but what about sex? Battery-operated devices just don’t compare to the weight and smell of a real-life man.”

“Smell? Pass.” It didn’t seem like a good time to explain that it had been so long since I’d had sex, I was worried cobwebs had formed down there.

We ate while making easy small talk. These were the kinds of things I lived for nowadays. Interactions, lunch and pleasant conversation, a walk in the sun. Simple pleasures. Simple but priceless.

While we waited for the bill, Alexandra left to visit the ladies’, and I relaxed back in my seat. I glanced around the room, watching the other diners.

That feeling of being watched was still niggling at me, but there was no one in sight. Literally, no one was looking at me. My father’s news had made me paranoid, clearly. Like anyone was going to bother traveling from Italy to the US just to threaten me… I hadn’t even seen my father in fourteen years.Right. So, everything is fine.I didn’t quite believe it.

I drank a little more and tried to shrug off my worries. I was probably giving myself far too much importance.

The sad truth was, outside my father and maybe Erica, no one in the world really cared what happened to me.

That stark fact was my final thought before the first shots rang out.

8

ELIO

Ifollowed my sister’s intel on finding Georgia’s workplace and grabbed a coffee at a place across the street. I watched the building. With a newspaper as a cover, albeit an old-fashioned one, I watched the entrance, while also looking for anyone else who was doing the same.

It didn’t take long to see the other man watching the building.

He wasn’t nearly as casual as he thought he was, lingering outside the office on a motorcycle, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder as his disguise. Amateur hour and confirmation that the Ravelli family had indeed decided to get to Georgia. It made sense. With the threat of Bellisario in custody and out of reach, and Georgia being the only living relative, there was no other way to send a message.

I had to get her back to Jersey and married quickly so I could move her into Casa Nera, the sprawling De Sanctis compound that Renato called home. I had to make sure Alfredo Bellisario understood that his precious daughter was our hostage.

I was distracted from my thoughts by the sight of a dark-haired woman leaving the atelier. Everything in the street seemed to stop around me. Noise died away; cars stopped moving on the road. The world held its breath as I got my first glimpse of the girl who had shaped my world.

No, not a girl anymore… a woman.

And she was beautiful.

The promise of her youth had blossomed beyond expectation. For a second, I couldn’t look away. For a second, my pulse sped up, my heart remembering that once, a long, long time ago, it had known how to beat. It only lasted a second before the familiar coldness I’d spent more than a decade perfecting surged through me, providing comfort and distance. Georgia Bellisario — no, Conti — wasn’t someone I knew. I’d known a wild and shining girl, a burning flame, captured in a moment of reckless youth, a moment that had cost me everything. The woman before me now? I didn’t know her, and I wouldn’t. I didn’t care enough to. I didn’t care much about anything. That was the legacy of my childhood love.

The waitress dropped a tray behind me, and the world crashed back into life.

Georgia walked across the courtyard in front of the building. I didn’t need to check if it was her. It was obvious. She crossed the street and headed toward a park.

The guy on the motorcycle shifted around, speaking to someone on the phone. Reporting in.

I paid for my coffee and went out to the street, taking a cigarette I had no intention of smoking from a pack in my suit jacket and holding it between my lips. The guy on the motorcycle hadn’tglanced at his surroundings even once. No situational awareness whatsoever.

Georgia went into the park and found a bench just inside, still in sight of the road. I put the cigarette in my mouth and watched her. She made no move to call anyone or browse her phone. She just stared into space for a while then stood. As soon as she was on the go, I was behind her.

I had to take out the guy on the motorcycle sooner or later, but I wouldn’t do that until I had to. Keeping a low profile would be the best strategy here.

Georgia wandered up a busy sidewalk, and the motorcycle guy followed. Seconds later, I followed as well. Weaving in and out of the crowd, I kept the back of her head in my sights, as well as the guy carrying a motorcycle helmet.

She jumped on a bus just before it eased away from a stop. I hailed a cab to follow.

Before too long, she left the bus, and I paid my cab and followed her on the sidewalk again. Her head was swiveling back and forth. Once or twice, her eyes nearly met mine. Could she feel me watching?

She went into a hotel, and I settled at a coffee shop across the street to watch her. I pulled up the hotel on my phone and checked for other exits, then messaged my sister, the De Sanctis eyes in the sky, to monitor the back doors.

The biker had parked right outside the hotel and was talking on the phone. I wasn’t close enough to hear, but I imagined he was shooting a rapid stream of Italian down the line, asking for instructions.

---