Page 89 of Brutal Legacy

Prosecutor Bellisario waves his daughter, Georgia, and her new husband off as they embark on their life in America. Tommaso Conti and his bride will settle in California, where he will attend intern at a financial services firm and Georgia will pursue her love of dressmaking.

Renato watchedme as I waded through a turbulent storm of emotions. Georgia had married Tommaso Conti. She had married someone… she was married, and she was leaving Italy. I shot to my feet, panic making me careless.

The guard shouted at me to sit down immediately, and my wrist ached where I was handcuffed to the table.

I sank down. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t see her. I was powerless. Powerless.

She was gone, and I was here… and I’d die here. She had left me. It seemed pretty clear. She’d found someone else to save her from Castel Amaro. I was surplus to requirements. Yesterday’s trash.

Renato leaned forward and slid the paper away. It felt like the future I’d thought I’d have was slipping through my fingers. Gone.

“If you take my deal, you owe me… when you get out, you come to me first?—”

“I’ll go,” I told him simply.

Renato raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re sure? I don’t want to sell anyone’s soul for them or make them live a life they abhor.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ice formed in my chest. “Nothing matters anymore.”

25

ELIO

Now

After another eternity in the shower, Georgia finally emerged. That was fine by me. I’d needed the time to get my head in order.

I’d had a moment of temporary insanity, and my body had betrayed me. I wouldn’t forget that act of rebellion. I needed to get myself, and my new wife, under control. What was done was done, and no one would forget what had happened to De Luca. Maybe they’d think twice about skimming from a De Sanctis casino. Now, it was time to let my hostage know how things were going to be. Sure, maybe I’d been lying to myself that I could watch her marry another man, but there was no need to let the loss of my self-control run unchecked.

I was dressed and ready for her when she came out of the shower; I had trapped my swollen cock under my belt to try and get it to behave.

“Here, wear this,” I told her flatly, tossing a ring box across the bed. I hadn’t let her keep on the ring that De Luca had chosen.

She stared at the little box like it was a venomous snake.

“What is it?” she asked, distrustful.

“A collar — so everyone can understand that you have an owner.”

She reached for the box and opened it. A soft gasp left her. I had no idea why I’d bought the rings. It had been years ago. They had reminded me of my mother’s engagement ring and wedding band, I supposed, the ones my father had hawked for money only a week after she’d died. It had been a passing moment of weakness, especially considering that I’d never intended to give them to anyone. Maybe, if my sister ever had a daughter, I’d pass them down.

Now, Georgia stared at the two complementary bands sitting on the plush velvet.

“You want me to wear your ring? I thought I wasn’t your wife… I was just a hostage.”

“To me, yes, that’s exactly what you are. To everyone else, you’re my wife, and God have mercy on the soul of the idiot who dares to forget it.”

She released a soft snort. “Be careful, Elio, I might think you’re protective of me.”

“You’d think right,” I told her. “I am protective of my possessions. My car, my weapons, my apartments… my wife.”

“Wow, fourth after apartments. What an honor,” she muttered.

I watched her slide the rings on and stare at her hand. They looked right there, like they were just made to fit.

I tore my eyes away and shrugged my coat on.

“Where are you going?” she asked and eyed me. She was standing in my robe, and it was ridiculously oversized on her. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head, and she appeared innocent in a way she had no right to.

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