Page 65 of Primo DeLuca

Chapter Twenty-four

Nevah

Aurelio had been sent to test my loyalty, not only to the DeLuca family, but to Primo. This was the logical conclusion I forced myself to believe over all the other scenarios hammering their way into my brain.

If this was some sort of test, manufactured by Primo, I didn’t blame him. I was a target by association and couldn’t imagine what it was like being under the same amount of pressure as him. Pressure to lead. Pressure to survive. Pressure to track down a traitor within his own family.

I needed a deep meditation session, something to get my mind off of…everything. I allowed my body to melt into the expensive couch cushions before throwing my head back and aiming it at the vaulted ceiling.

Eyes closed I inhaled so deeply I could feel the stress preparing to seep out of me. Another long breath dragged a familiar scent into my lungs. One I caught a whiff of when I had walked in. Aurelio’s sudden emergence made me forget about it.

My eyes popped open.

My head tilted.

That scent.

I sniffed the air and wrinkled my nose. It was like candy.

Licorice.

I jumped up off the couch like it was on fire and went for my purse when I remembered exactly when and where I had smelled the scent.

“Don’t!” a voice called out from the darkness in the back of the suite at the same time I was reaching out for my purse. Just another foot and I could snatch it up and get my gun. I moved my hand, inching my arm closer, determined to get to my bag.

“Move one more inch and this room will have to be decommissioned so they could clean up your splattered brains.”

Fuck!

The clicking drew closer, more specifically the clicking of heels against the floor before the light shining behind her blocked her face from my view.

“Leandra,” I whispered.

“Toss the fucking purse and sit over there,” she instructed, pointing at one of the two chairs at the small dining table me and Aurelio had just vacated.

This was the most eventful night of my life. The thought that it could be the last one of my life limped into my brain carrying with it every emotion I had just tried to banish from my mind.

My purse hit the floor and landed next to the couch before cautious steps inched me closer to the chair she pointed out. My eyes were glued to the gun in her hand. There was no need to ask her why she was here or how she found me—she wanted Primo and would go to any lengths to have him.

Her eyes and body language when I spotted her with him at the restaurant told me that her desire for Primo was immeasurable. She came across as a bit stalkerish, especially when she bumped into my shoulder after leaving the table.

The wild glint in her eyes now said she was about to do something crazy.

I didn’t take the seat but stood in place, staring at her with what I hoped was a droopy, sorry-eyed expression. I was giving off more of a vibe that spilled seething hatred due to the spikes of anger pumping through my veins.

“What the fuck does he see in you? What’s with you black women anyway? It’s not enough you’re nabbing all the white men you have to come for the Italian men too?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t—”

“Shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down!” she shouted, so loud her voice cracked.

As soon as my butt hit the smooth leather of the chair, the hard metal tip of her gun was at the base of my skull, pressing so hard it forced my head down.

“Do you know what I’ve endured to try and get his fucking attention? And as soon as I do, here you come, out of fucking-nowhere, but I’m about to fix that shit. You don’t deserve him, and he can’t move on because he’s stuck on you. You with your melanin, kinky hair, and phat ass. I don’t understand the appeal.”

She said the words like she was spitting out phlegm. She shoved the pistol harder into the back of my head with each angry sentence she spat. My nerves were wracked with trembling fear waiting for the pop that would end my life. However, my curiosity didn’t give a damn about my nerves. There were some questions I had to ask.

“Did you hire those men to kill Primo?”

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