Page 10 of Playing the Sicilian's Game of Revenge

The only conclusion she could draw to finding Dante’s name in Teo’s personal files was that Dante Marino had sent Teo LaRosa to hurt her family.

Her phone dinged, causing her to jump. Teo had replied to her text.

The only thing needed is you naked in my bed.

She stared at that text. So incongruous to the moment. Twenty minutes ago, it would have sent a bolt of heat through her—and she wasn’t immune to the physical reaction of knowing what he could do with such a premise.

But now she had a sneaking suspicion as to why. He was connected to Dante somehow. He wanted to hurt her brother somehow, no doubt. Through her.

Teo had made her a pawn.

He’d made her a fool.

She signed out of the computer, put it back exactly the way it had been. He’d never know she touched it. He’d never know what she knew.

Because she would not confront him with this. No.

She would make him pay.

Teo was on cloud nine. Dante’s DNA had finally been collected and dropped off with the testing site. He would have his proof within the week. Which meant he needed to get Saverina moving along on the relationship front.

He rather liked having her to himself, having everything be a secret so every night together felt like theirs and theirs alone.

But this was not the plan. The plan was revealing to everyone he was Dante’s son. An illegitimate son—painting Dante the adulterer, child abandoner, which was bad enough.

But then, to twist the knife, show the Parisi family as his saviors. Lorenzo, the man who’d given him a chance to raise to the lucrative position he was at now. So kind and generous and such a family man he’d even allowed Teo to fall in love with his prized sister.

Media channels would eat it up, exaggerate it beyond the telling. Dante would forever be ruined—his traditional, family-friendly, upstanding reputation in tatters. While the Parisis soared.

Teo nearly laughed alone in the elevator. He needn’t have worried last week. Everything was working out just as it should.

Not that he was getting cocky. He wouldn’t do that again. Just that he’d enjoy each little step toward success.

For you, Mamma.

The thought of his mother was always sobering, but more than that these past few days, it seemed to twist into his mother and Saverina. They weren’t much alike, but still he could see, if she’d lived, them enjoying each other’s company. Saverina’s sharp wit, his mother’s kind soul. Saverina would have made her laugh. Mamma would have eased those strange hints of fear he sometimes saw in Saverina’s eyes.

But it was of no matter. His mother was dead. Saverina’s fears were her own.

And his plan was all that mattered. The elevator stopped at Saverina’s floor—because he’d pushed that number. He strode out of the elevator when the doors opened, then stopped short, looked around, as if he hadn’t meant to get out on this floor.

This was a farce they’d played a few times. He knew she rather liked it—the secrecy, the sneaking around. Now he hoped someone saw him. Saw a pattern. Began to wonder.

Because they would need to announce this engagement by the end of the month.

He looked down the hall to Saverina’s desk, politely smiling at anyone who passed or made eye contact with him. Then he turned back to the elevator—once the doors had closed—and pushed the down button once more.

Like clockwork, Saverina exited her office. He didn’t look her way, but in his peripheral vision, he watched her approach.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Parisi,” he offered quietly when she came to stand next to him, as if also waiting for the elevator and only the elevator.

“Good afternoon,” she replied.

When the doors opened, they stepped inside in tandem. He hit the lobby button, then waited for the doors to close before turning his grin on her.

But she did not look at him or sidle closer as she usually did.

Odd.

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