Page 109 of Seeking Vengeance

TheCappellettis.

“What is it?” Matthew frowns. “What’s wrong?”

All the blood drains from my face.

“Layla,” he demands. “Fucking ask. Talk to me.”

“Your mentor is Emmanuel Costa’s brother-in-law.” My voice is barely audible as a tremor takes over my limbs. How could I forget? How could he not have told me? After all this time, he kept his connection to the Costas a secret. “Is this a setup? Have you been playing me since the moment we met?”

“Stop.No.” His upper lip sneers. “My mentor is Emmanuel’s enemy. They despise each other. Lorenzo can’t stand the man his sister married. None of his brothers can.”

I shake my head. This is too much.

Too many secrets.

Too heavy a reliance on trust that I never should’ve given.

Warning bells and calls for calm poison my blood, the warring toxicity increasing. I’d been happy with him. At home. I’d been empowered and invigorated and blissed.

And all this time, we’d both been lying. To ourselves. To each other.

He has no idea who he’s introduced to his infamous mentor.

“I’m leaving.” The words are a pained whisper over the bile at the back of my throat.

“Not like this you’re not.” He stalks toward the entry, preempting my escape. “Once I’ve answered all your questions and you have the information to make an informed—”

“This isn’t merely about making an informed decision. No matter what you tell me, it won’t change the fact I have secrets of my own. Secrets that make this situation worse than the hell it already is.”

His face loses the tense edge. “I know you, Layla.”

“You keep saying that, but you have no clue.”

“You’re wrong.” His voice lowers, the edge of hostility replaced with a tone I can’t describe. Pity? Regret? “I know who you are.”

There’s something different in his conviction this time. Something more pointed in his confidence over my character. Something capable of twisting mercilessly at my stomach.

My pulse increases. My panic, too.

I shake my head, ignoring his faith. Needing to brush it off.

“I know your name,” he continues. “Your family. Your legacy.”

I hold my breath.

He’s bluffing. He has to be.

Only nothing but fortitude stares back at me.

A spike of panicked nausea rolls through me. “No.”

If he knew, he never would’ve brought me here. Never would’ve introduced me to Lorenzo. Never would’ve said all those dreamy, optimistic things.

“Yes.” He gives a somber smile. “You showed your ID to one of my bouncers. That was after Bishop had instructed them to take notes if someone matching your name and description showed up.”

No. I keep shaking my head, denying my secrets have been his for what… days? Weeks? He knew all this time and didn’t say anything?

“You’re Layla Hart,” he continues. “Sister to Cole Torian. Daughter to the infamous Luther Torian. And part of the notorious crime family that rules over Portland.”

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