Page 490 of Hate Mates

If looks could have killed, mine would have been strangling Massimo.

“He’s had . . . um . . .prisoners,” he said, the word choking him on the way out, “before, but never any women.”

I scoffed. “So, that makes him a gentleman or something?”

“He’s never allowed any of them to stay in the nicest guest room in the house, nor has he given them free range of the estate. None of them were allowed to visit their favorite friend, either.” He flashed his pearly white teeth at me. Lazaro must have paid well because Massimo had the dental alignment of a movie star.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Three minutes ago, you were my friend, but now, I’m rethinking things.” He was my only friend, but the continuous Lazaro-cheerleading was pissing me off.

“Ah, don’t be like that. I’m still your friend.”

I waved my hands in the air. “Then help me get the fuck out of here!” The longer I stayed here, the more I was losing my mind.

He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself.” I’d had enough of the madness, dressing up like a doll and spreading my legs for a tyrant. I was getting the fuck out of here, with or without help.

Massimo’s lips thinned into a grim line. “That would be a mistake. This estate is a fortress. No one can get in or out without Signore’s permission. The iron gates and men with guns are all you see with the naked eye, but there’s more.”

“Like what?”

He looked around cautiously and leaned in. “Explosives,” he whispered. “They’re everywhere, just waiting for Signore to press the button.”

“Why on earth does he have more weapons than the military?”

“The family business is arms. The Cosentinos are the largest weapons supplier in Europe.”

The blood drained from my body, leaving me shuddering and cold. “Mafia,” I breathed out. My mind was racing. I had known, of course, Lazaro had to be involved in sketchy dealings, but I’d had no clue that it was this bad. That I was actually mixed up with the mafia.

“There is nowhere to go if you do escape. He will find you, and if he doesn’t, his enemies will, and you’re worse off with them. So, you see...you’re stuck here,” he said solemnly.

Stuck.“For how long?”

“Until he’s done with you.”

“What if he’s never done?” I asked, already knowing the answer to that question.

“He’s not a bad man.” I could tell that Massimo truly believed that his boss was a good man, but I would never be convinced. Working in this environment almost required one to adopt a cult mentality; otherwise, employees would riot. Lazaro was a master at brainwashing. Further proof that he was a bad man.

“You just told me he’s in the mafia!” I blamed myself for this—for becoming entangled with a crime organization. I just wanted a simple life and to sing on stage, but I now saw that God was never going to allow that dream to come true. This was my fate. It always had been.

“He can’t help that part. He was born into it; he didn’t choose this life. It would be more dangerous if he did leave. His own men and business affiliates would consider him a liability. Earsthat have heard too much. Eyes that have seen too much. His father would have had to kill him.”

“Is that why he doesn’t get along with his father?” I remembered Massimo mentioning it the other day during another one of his verbal diarrhea tirades. He really should have seen a doctor for that habit.

“No. That situation is a little more complex, and it’s not my story to tell.”

“But this is?” He’d already opened Pandora’s box, what was one more detail?

“Even my mouth has limits.”

“I don’t want to be here,” I confessed again, this time with my whole heart behind my words. I’d had a life, even if I wasn’t sure it had made me happy. It had worked for me—the small apartment, the modest paycheck—and I wanted it all back, despite its mediocrity, if it would mean that I could be free again.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” Massimo said, crushing the last shred of hope I had held onto. “You might as well concentrate on what you are lucky to have by being here.”

“Like my neck?” I replied, my words soaked in sarcasm.

He chuckled. “Certainly that, but also a nice house with a pool and the beach. Good food. And me.” He gleamed at the end of his laundry list.

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