Page 72 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession
He jerked upright from the leather chair he was sprawled in, and when he saw me, his eyes were wide with fear.
“Ricardo,” I said, testing if Dom’s theory was right.
He jumped off the chair and scrambled back until he hit the wall. “Who are you? Wh…what do you want?”
Seems like Dom was right. I moved closer and got on my haunches until I was inches away from his face.
“I’m Gastone Ajello. Surely, you know who I am.”
All the color drained from his face. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
I pulled out my phone and brought up the photo Larissa had shown me. I had ignored her then, but after she left, I went back into her room and went through all the papers to find the photo she had tried so desperately to show me.
“You remember my fiancé, Adriana?”
He stared at the photo, then at me, before making a foolish mistake. “That was her name?”
With a roar, I clamped my throat around his neck, slammed him to the back of the wall. He sputtered, gasping for air, and I let go.
“You killed her,” I said.
“What? No!” He denied it, his eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape.
I got closer. “The police knew it was you. They just couldn't find you. But I did.”
“I didn't—”
“Shut up,” I hissed. “Here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me the truth—all of it—and then I'm going to take you to the police. Or,” I pulled out my gun, letting it hang loosely at my side. “We handle this my way.”
Fear bloomed in his eyes. “Wait, please. I'll tell you everything. Just... don't kill me.”
“Talk,” I ordered.
He swallowed hard. “We met at a fashion event. She was there because of you, but you couldn't make it that night. We hit it off. Started seeing each other. It was just supposed to be a fling, but then...”
“Then she got pregnant,” I finished for him.
He nodded miserably. “She swore it was mine. I wanted her to leave you, to be with me. But,” his voice turned bitter, “she said she loved the lifestyle too much. She was using both of us, don't you see? You for your money, me for... whatever the hell she wanted from me.”
I thought of all the times Adriana had talked about our future, about raising our daughter together, about leaving life behind. Had it all been a way to keep me on the hook while she played her games?
“So, you killed her,” I said flatly.
He was silent for a long moment, then nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I wasangry. I loved her. I thought the baby was mine. When she told me she was staying with you, that she'd found out the baby was a girl and you were both so happy...” He trailed off, his face twisted with old hatred. “I lost it. I waited for her outside the doctor's office.”
“And you shot her,” I said, my voice steady despite the roiling in my gut. “You shot her and my baby—” I stopped, correcting myself. “Her baby.”
Ricardo’s words were rushing out now. “I panicked. I knew they'd be looking for me. But I wanted to hurt you, too. So I paid that journalist to implicate the Lebedevs, who I thought could bring you down.”
All these things he was saying made me physically ill. Three years. Three years of hatred against the Lebedevs for something they hadn't done. Three years of mourning a child that wasn't mine, a woman who had betrayed me in the most fundamental way possible.
But more than that, I had driven away the one person who had tried to show me the truth, who had cared enough to want to protect me from it, even as she knew I needed to see it.
“You framed an innocent family,” I said, my voice hollow. “You caused me to—” I couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't face what I'd done because of his lie.
“I'm sorry,” he said, though his eyes showed no remorse. “I was desperate.”
“Who helped you?” I asked.
