Page 78 of Pietro
My mouth goes dry. I grip the towel tighter, suddenly aware of how exposed I am—naked but for this flimsy barrier between us.
"Pietro, please—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"Don't." He steps closer, the gun never wavering. "Don't speak unless I tell you to."
Steam still billows from the bathroom behind me, but I'm freezing. Goosebumps rise across my skin as Pietro circles me slowly, like a wolf stalking wounded prey.
"You played me perfectly, didn't you?" He trails the cold barrel of the gun along my collarbone, making me flinch. "The innocent secretary. The woman running from her past."
The metal slides down my arm, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.
"Please," I whisper, "I can explain?—"
The gun presses harder against my skin. "I said don't speak."
Tears burn behind my eyes. I blink them back, refusing to let them fall.
"Every shipment hit. Every schedule leaked." He traces the gun across my shoulder blades, making me shudder. "Was it worth it? Spreading your legs for information?"
My cheeks burn with humiliation and rage. I open my mouth to defend myself, but the look in his eyes stops me cold.
"Your father must be so proud," he continues, circling back to face me. "His daughter, the perfect little spy."
The gun moves to my throat, pressing just beneath my jaw, forcing my chin up.
"How many men died because of what you told them?" His voice drops lower, more dangerous. "How many of my people bled out while you sat at my desk, smiling?"
I shake my head frantically, trying to deny it without words. I never gave my father information. I never betrayed Pietro's business. But the words stick in my throat as the barrel presses harder.
"All those nights working late. All those questions about shipments." His face twists with fury. "I handed you everything you needed to destroy me."
A tear escapes, sliding down my cheek. I didn't do this. I never betrayed him. But even if I could speak, would he believe me? The evidence looks damning—Connor O'Sullivan's daughter working in the heart of Sartori operations while Irish crews hit their shipments.
"You know what happens to traitors in my world, Nora?" The gun moves down to rest between my breasts.
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can only stare into those merciless eyes that once looked at me with hunger and something close to tenderness.
"Please," I manage to whisper, the word barely audible.
"Shut up!" he roars, making me flinch violently. "You don't get to beg. You don't get to speak. You lost that right when you sold me out to your father."
The towel slips slightly, and I clutch it desperately, feeling more naked than I ever have in my life.
"Did you laugh about it?" he asks, voice dropping to a whisper that terrifies me more than his shouting. "When you were in my bed? Did you think about how you were going to destroy everything I've built?"
PIETRO
"You want to know how I found you?" My voice comes out cold, controlled. Nothing like the chaos raging in my chest. "I saw you, Nora."
I need to say this. Need her to understand exactly how stupid she thinks I am.
"I was searching for you. Had every man I own combing the streets." I circle behind her, keeping the gun trained on her spine. "Then I see you walking with some Irish fuck toward a beat-up Honda. Real cozy, weren't you?"
Her shoulders tense. Good. She should be scared.
I press the gun harder against her chest, feeling her heartbeat racing beneath the barrel. My finger twitches on the trigger. One pull. That's all it would take to end this betrayal, to punish the O'Sullivan family for their sins against mine.
Do it. Fucking do it.
