Page 44 of Sweet Retribution

The silence is killing me. This isn’t normal, isn’t who I am. I vowed to not let Stone or anyone else change who I am, so I take a sip of liquid courage and fold my hands on the table.

“Any leads on Antonio?”

Marco’s head snaps toward me then to Stone as if he’s shocked I’d bring up such a topic. It isn’t like these men have table manners and won’t want to discuss such matters at dinner.

Stone rests an elbow on the arm of his chair and looks at me for the first time since sitting at the table. “Yes,” he says, his face void of expression.

I glance about the table trying to get a read from his men. I read shock and confusion but that doesn’t give me any answers.

“Where do you think he’s hiding? Has Beckam had any contact with him?”

I’m still numb when I think of him. He repulsed me for more than a decade, and now I have reason to fear him. Yet, I’m not scared when I’m here in Stone’s fortress. I’ll have to leave eventually, but I’ve never had many freedoms before so it isn’t like I’ve been missing being out in the world.

I grew up with millions yet was never allowed to stray from the house. When I finally fled, I was too poor and worried about our safety to venture anywhere but work.

“We have leads,” is all Stone says before putting his linen napkin on his plate and leaving.

“Such a social butterfly,” I mutter under my breath.

I feel Marco chuckle next to me. “We’re getting closer, Gia. You’re perfectly safe here. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask any of us, okay?”

“You’re a good guy, Marco.” I pat his shoulder, then he and his crew leave as well.

So much for me being Miss Perky Pants.

***

Idon’t know what gotinto me thinking dinner with Gia would be a good idea. At the time, I thought if my men were with me it would keep me from touching her, as I so desperately want to do.

It did. They did. Sitting as far as I could from her may have put a physical barrier between us, but I could still smell her flower shampoo. I could still see how soft her skin shone under the dining room lights. I still remembered how wet she always was whenever I touched her.

My plan had been to have a civil dinner, showing her–and mostly myself–that what had happened between us was in the past, and that it’s better for us to move on as if nothing had ever happened.

Only I couldn’t. I can’t. I want her so badly my body aches for her. It’s not just the carnal fucking that my cock strains for when a fuckable woman is in the room.

It’s different with Gia. And different scares me.

I don’t get scared. I don’t fear the unknown. I control the situations. I control people. I control the outcome.

Only Gia Smith Parlatore has tossed my world upside now and is now costing me my own sanity. I storm away from the dinner table and return to my office. The sooner we find Parisi and the girls he’s taken, the sooner I can get my life back to normal.

I almost laugh.Normal. What the hell is normal? What happens when I take care of Parisi? I’m not a fool. I know there are dozens if not hundreds of other sadistic men scouting the innocent and selling them to the highest bidder.

I can’t save the world, but I can rid it of the two men who destroyed my family, and hundreds of other lives as well. After that, I’ll have no purpose.

I didn’t get this far by dwelling on the what-ifs; sticking to the now is my only focus. My men join me taking their seats around the long mahogany conference table. We’re all on our laptops and phones, and reading through the papers stuffed in folders.

I’ve had four glasses of bourbon when my phone rings showing an unidentified number. My men look up at me and pause as I answer. I don’t say anything and wait for the caller to identify himself.

“You have something I want,” Parisi’s scratchy voice says through my phone.

I don’t respond and lean back in my chair. Playing my cards too soon is sure to put me at a disadvantage, but right now, I’m not sure if Parisi even knows I have any cards in my hand.

“What is it you want?” He asks.

Your brains, blown to pieces.I wait a while before responding. “Who says I want anything?”

“We all want something, Parlatore.”

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