Page 46 of Ruthless Betrayal

Though given it’s Rio, who knows?

I can only go on instinct, but I can’t see that as a reason for Martelli’s antagonism toward Rio. If not that, then what is it driving the underlying dislike?

I can’t help thinking about the animal world and how that works in comparison to this one. I miss the rescue center so much, even though they’re unlikely to ever want me back. But if I stay with Rio, at least one day I may have a new shelter to help set up and run.

And maybe I can take something of what I learned over the years of working at the shelter and apply it to this crazy Mafia environment. Animals fight because they want to possess or gain something for their survival. Might be food, or territory, or a mate. Martelli definitely isn’t after me—not after the first words out of my mouth were a perceived insult. They both have enough money to start a small nation each, so it isn’t likely to be that. Territory? Does Martelli want more? Does Rio want more?

What if this elusive guy they’re all searching for—this Antonio—works for Gianni Martelli?

Is Martelli hiding him within the ranks somewhere, and Rio hasn’t had any luck finding him because he’s less familiar with this area and its operations than what occurs in his own city?

The more I consider the idea, the more it seems to crystallize in my mind as a probability. I need to get back to Rio and share some of my thoughts with him.

I finish the pumping, enjoying the relief of emptied breasts, and pack everything away, then reassemble my dress and jump up to head back to the ballroom. I pull open the sitting-room door, expecting to see the security guy who escorted me here. Instead, I come to an abrupt halt at the sight of a tuxedoed man in the act of reaching out toward the door handle.

Gianni Martelli.

He immediately grabs me by my shoulders, shoves me backward none too gently into the room, and steps into the space with me, slamming the door shut behind him.

I catch sight of the security guy’s face just before the door closes—startlement that immediately settles into impassivity. Of course. This guy works for Martelli. I am on my own, at least for the moment.

I stare up into the dead-looking eyes of my host and start babbling. “Rio said he’d meet me here. He’s overdue. He’ll be here any minute. I’m certain of it.”

I’m spouting nonsense, and both of us know it.

Martelli smiles that snake smile of his, and my blood runs cold.

“Take a seat, then, BiancaAgosti, and we will wait for your husband to arrive.” He gestures at the settee I’ve just vacated, and I slide back down onto the seat before my trembling knees give away my terror.

He studies me for a moment before taking a seat opposite. The low coffee table lies between us, and I can’t help my flinch when he leans forward. But he’s merely reaching for a cigar box on the table beside the packed-up pump. He busies himself cutting and lighting a cigar, puffing on it before looking at me again.

“I hope you don’t mind me lighting up, Mrs.Agosti? This is my favorite room in which to enjoy a cigar.”

Of course I bloody mind, you horrible man. I hate cigars.Except when it comes to Rio, my recalcitrant mind adds. On him, cigar smoke smells delicious. On this man, it makes me want to gag.

I smile sweetly, I hope. It was easy to play a game with one of the goons. They’re primed to obey orders, and Iama mob boss’s wife, after all. Far harder to play a game with someone like Martelli.

“I don’t mind,” I lie. “And if we got off on the wrong foot earlier, I apologize. I was…” My heart is thumping, and I hope I’m saying the right things and not making the situation worse. “I was just wanting to please my husband, Mr. Martelli. Acknowledge his name. That’s all. I didn’t mean to cause you any offence. Really, I…”

The steady regard from those cold eyes freezes my voice box. Again. I clear my throat, trying to get it restarted, to no avail.

He puffs away, then says, “Well. Seems your husband islongoverdue. Though I’m not surprised. The last I saw him, he was having a rather animated discussion with Julia Veneto. They looked to be getting very cozy in one of the alcoves off the ballroom.”

Thatkick-starts my voice again. “Julia Veneto, the actress?”

The very beautiful, very sexy, and currently very available Hollywood actress?

“That is the one. Oh dear. What a shame for you, BiancaAgosti.”

My eyes narrow. Suddenly, I’ve had enough of him. I don’t care how rich and powerful this guy is, nor do I carewhathe is. “The thing is, Mr. Martelli, Rio is my husband. He loves me, and he’s loyal. He would never disrespect—”

“Indeed, I would not.” I turn to the door, where Rio has just entered.

His eyes are burning with emotion of some kind and, looking at him now, I cannot believe I ever thought him cold.

Not like the man seated opposite. There is no comparison between the two. None at all. I jump to my feet and rush to Rio, my tension dissipating as he wraps strong arms around me. Seeking his protection appears to be becoming a habit.

He may be a violent monster who scares others the way Martelli scares me. But Rio ismymonster. And right now, I’m so grateful I have him on my side.

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