Page 124 of Righteous Deceit

Diego admitted that Lorenzo placed him in Chicago to spy. The boss of New York wanted ammunition should he require it, and Diego now has it tied up in a neat little bow. A grenade big enough to turn Chicago into dust.

I’ve called Diego. But every single one of my calls goes straight to voicemail.

I was even stupid enough to fly to New Yorkalone. I entered territory that could now be antagonistic. But he wasn’t home. I wasn’t suicidal enough to track down any other family members in search of him. I have a sliver of self-preservation left.

Two days ago, I admitted defeat, and pulled the only trump card I had left in my arsenal to protect Salvatore. I didn’t much care for my own well-being, and it was clear enough that Diego had made his decision. But I owed Salvatore a shot of keeping his throne. He deserved it.

I approached Salvatore with a thick yellow envelope, gifting Diego his freedom and his unattached life back in New York. Lorenzo would never let Diego step away from our marriage, but if I were the one to begin the proceedings, he’d have no choice but to agree.

It could all be a moot point if Diego has divulged our darkest secret. He’d be a widower instead of a divorcée. Either way, he loses the wife he never wanted.

Using my pinky finger, I rub along the charcoal on my page, smoothing the line of the torso. I attended my first live drawing class in almost a year, trying to distract myself from the pain of what I’d done or what may still happen.

It’s so cliché, loving someone enough to let them go.

I wish he’d talk to me. But I don’t see another option. He’s made his decision. His silence is loud enough.

I have to look past my selfish desires. The man I have fallen in love with declared his love to an idea that no longer exists. My lies were enough to turn him away, and I have to accept that.

I might not have his heart, but I must protect his life. Salvatore wants to kill him. I hope my husband values the life of solitary he wanted enough to keep his silence.

It’s a gamble, and his loyalty to Lorenzo could outweigh his personal desires, but I have to try.

The class finished over an hour ago. I wasn’t ready to finish, though. I needed to distract my wayward thoughts. He’d have the papers by now. Salvatore assured me of that. I don’t know how. He was ignoring my calls, so I don’t know why my brother seems to think he’d answer his. Unless Lorenzo was facilitating the delivery.

I offered the model standing in front of me, naked as the day he was born, a thousand dollars to stay to allow me to finish my piece. He didn’t even blink, accepting my offer and keeping his position while everyone else packed up around us.

“Are you sure you're comfortable, Lucas?” I ask for the millionth time. “You’ve been holding that position for almost ninety minutes.”

He smiles easily. “I’m fine, Miss Bianchi.”

“Two more minutes, and we can finish up.”

“Whatever you like, Miss Bianchi.”

I’m shadowing the line of his neck muscles when the door to the studio slams open, startling us both. I reach for my purse, the gun I used to kill Mother still tucked comfortably inside, but I stop when I see who stands at the entrance.

“Diego.”

“Put your clothes on and get out,” he speaks to Lucas, his eyes drilling into my skull.

He looks as he always does—black shirt, black jeans, heavy boots, and his thick cross hanging around his neck. His dark eyes are narrowed on my face, his jaw set tight, and his nostrils flaring.

He’s mad.

“Who are you?” Lucas asks stupidly.

Diego pulls a gun from the back of his jeans, aiming it in Lucas’s direction.

“I won’t tell you again. My wife only needs to look atmydick, so put yours away before I remove it with a perfectly aimed gunshot, and fuck off.”

Lucas scrambles to grab his clothes.

“Sorry, Lucas,” I apologize. The poor guy is trying to pay his way through college, and the last thing he needs is a raging mafioso waving a gun in his face.

Diego scowls at me.

“No worries, Miss Bianchi,” Lucas lies, picking up his shirt.

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