Page 43 of The Villain's Captive (The Villain's Duet 1)

“I’m serious, Charlotte. You have to eat. Bribing and force-feeding are not beyond me.”

“And neither is killing people.” She crossed her arms.

“You know,” I wiped my mouth with the napkin and placed it on the table, “you seem to have this need to remind me of my…profession every chance you get. As if you think it’s something I can forget.”

“Oh, no, you have it wrong. It’s me I have to keep reminding.” She reached for the bottle of wine, filling her third glass for the evening. I understood her need to numb the chaos with alcohol. God knew, I had done the same more times than I cared to remember.

She took a sip, her luscious lips kissing the brim of the crystal glass. My cock stirred as I watched her swallow, her delicate throat practically begging me to trace my tongue along its arch.

“Let’s start with my father. How do you know him?”

“I don’t.” I eased back in my seat. “I know of him.”

“Great. That makes two of us,” she sneered, sampling her wine.

“I know your grandfather. Gianni Guerra.” I studied her closely. “He used to work for the Cosa Nostra.”

She frowned. “The Cosa who?”

“Cosa Nostra, also known as the Italian mafia.”

Her eyes widened. “Mafia? Are you serious?”

“Very.” I shot her a stern look, showing her exactly how fucking serious I was. “Gianni Guerra used to work for the Bernardi family.”

“As what?”

“A contractor.”

“That’s like code for hitman, right?”

I nodded.

“Jesus.” She took a sip of her wine, followed by a larger gulp, closing her eyes as she swallowed. “Okay,” her shoulders lifted as she inhaled deeply, “where do you fit in? How do you know my grandfather? No, wait,” she held up her hand, “where do I fit into all this? Why am I here?”

“You—”

“Wait. Wait.” She closed her eyes. “Who is the Bernardi family?”

“They—”

“No, wait.” She scrunched her nose as if thinking caused her physical pain. “Jesus, wait. Hold on.” The ice clinked against her glass as she swallowed last of it, cringing. “I literally do not know where to start.”

I sat up, placing my hands on the table. “Then how about you just keep quiet and listen?”

Her plump lips pursed, and she crossed her arms, conceding with a silent huff.

“Your grandfather was a member of the Italian mafia, a soldier for the Bernardi family. For years, he carried out various…assignments for them.”

“Killing people?”

“Among other things. But yes, silencing those who betrayed the family, owed them, and those who planned on talking against them was your grandfather’s main area of expertise.”

She scoffed. “I love how you talk about mafia and killing people as if it’s this normal thing in the world.”

“It is in mine.”

Our gazes fused, neither of us blinking—her defiance versus my dominion. Soon she’d realize that going against me was just a waste of fucking time.

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