Page 44 of Cruel Heir

We end up in the smaller living room, where I try desperately notto think of the last time I was here with Andre as one of the maids brings tea. “You all must know about Andre allying himself with your husbands,” I say as I sit down. “How do you feel about it? I know it must feel sudden—”

I’m hoping, by asking the question, that I might get some insight into what’s happening with the other dons. Andre doesn’t speak to me much about his meetings and what they talk about—but that’s to be expected. He doesn’t trust me, and it’s my father that he’s seeking to undermine. I have to think that surely the other women have more knowledge of what’s going on.

But, as I see the looks they exchange, my stomach sinks. It doesn’t appear that they know much more than I do.

“My husband doesn’t talk to me much about such things,” Carla says slowly. “None of ours do, really. It’s not what they want us to concern ourselves with. Things like our homes, our children—all of that takes up our time. My husband, I know, always wants to hear about those things. He doesn’t want to bother me with business.”

The other wives nod, and I feel the disappointment spread through me. I hadn’t really thought that it would be of much help—I don’t know how many more messages Celeste can get out, but it would have beensomething. Something to ease the guilt about my burgeoning feelings for my husband, to prove to myself and my father that my loyalty still lies with him.

I wanted to feel as if maybe all of this—this mindless small talk and entertaining—could be of some use for something besides further ingratiating me and Andre with his allies. But I feel that small hope slip away, as the wives eagerly turn the conversation back to other things.

That feeling of being trapped hems in around me again, and I suck in a breath, telling myself to stay calm. To play the role as long as I need to, until my father comes to get me out.

But even the message Celeste brought me only bolsters my spirits a little, now. And I know the longer I stay, the harder this will become.

I can’t fall for my husband. But with every day that passes, it feels as if I’m losing my grip on what’s real about our marriage and what’s not—what’s part of the game of revenge that Andre is playing, and what isn’t.

And the most frightening thing is that I’m not entirely sure that he always knows anymore, either.

14

ANDRE

“You’re not getting a damn thing from me. I won’t tell you shit—ah!”

A snarl erupts from the lips of the man in front of me as I yank a fingernail free, Antoni assisting me by pinning the man’s hand to the table. Antoni doesn’t flinch, even though this man, up until last night, occupied the same position that he does—only this man worked for Don Fontana. Still does, technically, I suppose—although before too much longer, it won’t matter.

He’ll be dead, once I have what I need from him.

I shake the blood off of my hands, tossing the nail onto the plastic underneath the man’s chair. His gaze doesn’t follow it as some do—this one is tough. He’d have to be, to do enforcement for Fontana, who is notoriously cruel when he sends his men in to torture. My father was spared that fate, and I grit my teeth as I remember how Fontana spoke of it as if it were a favor—as if my father should thank him for not torturing him before Fontana put him on his knees.

“I can make this slow and painful,” I promise the man, pressing the tip of the pliers into the bare nailbed. “Worse than it has been so far. So I suggest that you tell me what it is that I want to know.”

“You want a way to Fontana,” the man sneers. “You’re insane ifyou think I’ll tell you that. Those are my friends who would stand between you and him. Men I’ve worked with for years. Fontana himself would take it out on my family if I told you anythi—”

His words dissolve into a scream of pain as I crush his fingertip with the pliers.

“You’ll never get to him,” the man pants when he can speak again. “He’s got walls of men between you and him. “More than you could take out, even with the puny allies you’ve managed to—”

Another fingernail. Another crushed finger. Some men take pleasure in torture, but I find the best way is to go about it methodically. When I run out of fingers on this hand, I’ll move to the next. And then on to his teeth. More sensitive body parts will come after that.

The man is tough, I’ll give him that. His hands are mangled to the point that he’ll never use them again—if he were to live—by the time I step back, looking at Antoni as he wipes his bloodied hands on his jeans. “He needs his tongue to speak,” I say casually, cocking my head as I look at the man. “So the teeth next, I think. Antoni, you can begin.”

I’ve always been impressed by the tenacity of some men—their capacity to withstand pain. I can’t imagine that I would handle it too well if I were on the other side of this. And that, of course, is precisely one of the reasons why I can’t allow Fontana to get to me.

He treated me like a guest more than a prisoner the last time he had me under his control. I can’t imagine he’ll be so kind if he manages it again. Especially after what I’ve done to his daughter.

Thoughts of Lucia creep in, tearing my focus away for a moment. I didn’t see her last night—I was too busy handling an attack on the home of Fontana’s underboss, Castiglia, a man with a considerable amount of security. More than my intelligence had informed me of—a fact that I intend to take up with Don Gaeta as soon as I see him. It was his men who told me what to expect when I sent mine into the Castiglia’s estate—and it cost me several good lives that I’m angry to have sacrificed for what might not amount to much. Particularly if I can’t get this man to speak.

I pull Antoni aside, after he’s removed three teeth and still gottennothing. “We take this slow,” I tell him grimly, looking back at the bleeding man. “Ineedinformation from him. Last night can’t have been for nothing. Not when we lost four men to Gaeta’s bad information.”

Antoni nods, his jaw taut. “It wasn’t entirely bad,” he says finally. “Just more heavily guarded than we expected. We did manage to capture him.” He jerks his head in the direction of the man behind us. “And I’ll keep him alive until we get what we need. Don’t worry about that.”

I have no doubt that he will. Antoni is a brutal man, and well trained in the techniques of torturing someone without killing them. But it all means nothing if this man holds out until he dies.

“We can’t have bad information if we go in on Fontana.” I clench my teeth, thinking of what I’m going to say to Gaeta when I meet with him next. “We’ll be destroyed if we do.”

“I agree.” Antoni turns back to the man. “I’ll make sure that we don’t—and that we aren’t.”

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