Page 121 of Inescapable Darkness

“I will not apologize for what I did,” Mr. Morelli says.

“I don’t expect you to.” I hold his gaze. “I understand why you hate me, and I would have done the same thing, if I were in your position.”

He seems surprised by that answer. But he recovers quickly, and instead slides a checkbook across the desk. The topmost one is signed, but there is no amount filled in.

I raise my eyebrows in silent question.

“Fill it in,” he says.

“Why?”

“Because I would like you to leave.” He nods towards the checkbook. “So fill in whatever amount you want, take it, and then go wherever you want to start a new life.”

My reply is immediate. “No.”

He narrows his eyes. “Think this through properly before you refuse.”

“I don’t need to. The answer will always be no.”

“You would really turn down the chance to have a life, a real life, without having to worry about anything?”

A laugh spills from my lips.

Federico’s gaze sharpens.

“I apologize,” I say. “I meant no offense. It’s just… I have a real life now. Here. With Rico.”

“It’s a blank check. A blank check can buy you another life. Away from all of this violence and death.”

“Mr. Morelli,” I begin, feeling my patience dwindling. “It doesn’t matter what you offer me. I will never leave Rico.”

I expect him to get angry. Or at least frustrated. But he only cocks his head, looking pensive.

Standing there on the other side of the desk, I simply hold his stare with determined eyes.

“Why?” Federico asks at last. He sounds genuinely curious. “Why would you turn down this money? And why did you endure torture at the hands of your former colleagues instead of giving up Enrico’s location?”

Yet again, my answer is immediate. “Because I love him.”

For the briefest of moments, I swear I can see a small smile ghost across his lips. But then that stern mask is back on his face, and he gives me an appraising look.

“I will not be trusting just anyone with my only grandson and heir,” he declares.

Keeping my chin raised, I just stare back at him.

“But if you can prove yourself against four of my elite guards,” he continues, and flicks his wrist at the four men standing by the walls. “I might change my mind.”

He watches me as if he expects me to object. I don’t. Instead, I just move back from the desk and towards the middle of the room.

“Don’t hold back,” Mr. Morelli says to his guards in Italian. “I want to see what she’s truly made of.”

“I think that sounds like a wise strategy,” I reply in flawless Italian as well. “Since it would otherwise be difficult to assess my skills.”

Shock pulses across his features.

It’s so satisfying that I nearly let a victorious grin spread across my lips. But I thankfully manage to stifle it and instead keep the cool expression on my features.

“You speak Italian?” Federico asks, still in that beautiful language of his ancestors, as he stares at me with wide eyes.

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