Page 9 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

“As I said, he’s family. You don’t have to be afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid,” I blurted. It was important that he knew that. That he knew I wasn’t afraid of him or anyone. I had spent too many days living in fear, wondering what Roland or my mom would do next. Every night I would sit in the dark, staring out the window at the sky, thinking it might be my last. The uncertainty of my fate, all the questions and fear surrounding Ellie’s disappearance, ate at my insides, and there was no way I’d spend another day of life living in fear. I survived hell. I feared nothing.

Gianni nodded. “It’s good not to be afraid. But remember, fear is the mind’s best motivator when it comes to surviving. You can fear something and be brave at the same time, Elijah. The trick is not to let your fear control you.”

My jaw clenched as I looked up at him, the wrinkles around his eyes betraying the secrets that came with his age. He looked older than my dad was before he died. I never had a grandfather. My mom’s dad died before I was born. And from what I had learned through eavesdropping on conversations between my mom and dad, my dad didn’t want anything to do with his dad. Something about the family business being too dangerous. That he was protecting Ellie and me by cutting ties with his side of the family.

A knock on the door startled me, and Gianni shot me a reassuring smile, not saying anything about a simple knock scaring me right after I said I wasn’t afraid.

My heart raced as I watched him open the door.

“Mr. Russo,” Gianni greeted, standing to the side so the man could enter.

The man looked my way, removing the gloves from his hand. “This is the boy?”

“It is.”

Mr. Russo approached, and I stood, trying my best to act unintimidated while my stomach slowly turned inside out.

A thick gold chain beneath the open collar of his shirt glinted under the light. But it was his eyes that seemed familiar to me. Crystal blue. Light but gleaming with an edge of darkness. Warning. Power.

“Elijah,” he greeted. “I don’t suppose you remember me?”

I shook my head while biting the inside of my cheek.

“The last time I saw you, you were just a baby.” His expression softened. “You’ve grown up, and you look just like your father.”

“My father?” My heart almost tore through my chest. “You knew my father?”

“I did.” He crouched down in front of me, the hem of his black jacket touching the hardwood floor. “Your father and I, we were cousins. We grew up together.” A kind of sadness clouded the blue of his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after he died. I should have come for you sooner, but I didn’t think your mother would…” He glanced away as if the thought pained him. “Jesus.” He straightened and turned around, pacing while holding his hands in front of his mouth. Even a child like me could see he struggled with whatever he was thinking at that moment. “I’m sorry, Elijah.” He looked at me, and his apology made my chest hurt, causing tears to sting my eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but I am now. And you’ll never want for anything again.”

He rushed toward me and placed his hands on my shoulders—strong, big hands that squeezed tight. “I promised your father a long time ago that if anything should happen, that I’d take care of you. Unfortunately, life hasn’t been kind to me the last few years, and I lost track of what was important. But I’m here now, and I plan on keeping my promise to your father.” He touched my cheek, almost like a father would. “You’ll be happy with us. I have a son your age. His name is Marcello. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”

Wait. What? I inched closer. “Am I going with you?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I’m going to take care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of.”

“But I…” I looked at Gianni standing across the room, watching us. “I thought I was staying here with him.”

“No, boy. Gianni just helped to get you out of that house, away from those bad people.”

“But I want to stay.” I shrugged out of Mr. Russo’s hold and scrambled toward Gianni as I looked up. “I want to stay with you. Please. Let me stay here with you. I’ll be good. You won’t even know I’m here. I can cook. I can clean. I can work for extra money. I can do anything, but please,” a tear slipped down my cheek, “please let me stay here with you.”

I didn’t know why I was so desperate to stay with Gianni. It wasn’t like I knew him better than I did Mr. Russo. They were both just strangers to me. But there was something about the man who rescued me, something that made me want to stay close to him.

“Please, Gianni,” I begged. “Let me stay here…with you.”

Gianni looked over at Mr. Russo. “Elijah, why don’t you watch some television while Mr. Russo and I go talk in the kitchen privately for a moment? Okay?”

A part of me wanted to beg him one more time so he could see how desperate I was to stay here with him. It was stupid, and I couldn’t explain it. I just didn’t want to go anywhere else.

Reluctantly, I nodded and sat down on the couch. The fabric was rough and the seat firm. Something told me Gianni didn’t watch much television, which was great since all Roland did was sit in front of the TV, his hand in his pants and large belly showing from underneath his shirts which were two sizes too small. I hoped to God the devil didn’t give him any mercy as he burned in hell right now.

Gianni switched on the television, turning up the volume so I couldn’t eavesdrop. I pretended to watch the cartoon, pretended to like it while I anxiously waited for them. It seemed like hours, my stomach twisted in knots while my fate rested in the palms of their hands.

Gianni cleared his throat, and I jumped up, my gaze darting between the two men.

“Mr. Russo agreed that you could stay here—”

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