“Yes.”
“Is it so hard to believe?” he countered.
I leaned forward, like I was trying to pierce the invisible wall between us. “Yes. It is hard to believe.”
He tapped the right wheel of his chair with his finger. “Because of this?” There was a hint of bitterness in his response.
“No. Because you seemed so … empathetic before.”
“I am empathetic,” he replied. “It’s one of my more prevalent traits.”
“But you kill people.” My voice was wavering.
Again he tapped his chair by way of explanation. “I order kills.”
“That’s not much better.”
“It is a necessary evil for a greater good,” he answered evenly. “It is what it is.”
“Are you really going to kill me?” My voice cracked and a string of tears slid down my cheek onto my neck, dampening it uncomfortably. Still I kept my chin up. If nothing else, I would be brave.
Valentino was slow to respond. He shifted his gaze out the window. “Yes.”
“Even if Jack shows up?” I couldn’t believe what I was asking; I shouldn’t have even entertained the possibility of anyone’s life being forfeited for mine, but it turns out my survival instincts were crueler than I was.
Valentino turned back to me. He smiled, just a little. “Even then.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but a strangled cry escaped instead. Shaking, I buried my head in my bound hands and wept hard, trying to get it all out at once. I had to pull it together, to try and find a way out of this, but my shoulders were convulsing and my breathing was coming in thick gasps.
“If you would allow me to explain,” he said. I wouldn’t look at him, but his tone was entirely unaffected by my emotional meltdown. “I don’t want to be anything other than fair in this role that was given to me. I try to be as logical as I can when making decisions about life and death.”
“But you’re not fair,” I sobbed. “None of this is fair. I’m not a drug dealer! I’m just a girl!”
“A Gracewell girl. And a loose end, I’m afraid.”
He let me cry in silence, and he didn’t speak again until I finally lifted my head.
“Jack’s debt is owed because of his prolific drug activity and the destructive, far-reaching effects it has had. That much is plain to see. But your father’s debt to us is owed because of what he did to my father.”
“Your father was trying to kill him!” I shouted. I was shaking so bad I felt like I was going to combust. “Of course he defended himself! The whole thing was an accident. Even Felice admits my father didn’t do anything on purpose!”
“How do you know?” The impassive nature of Valentino’s response caught me off guard. For a laughable moment I found myself feeling foolish for reacting so violently, when he could have had this conversation the same way he would have talked if he were ordering a pizza for dinner.
“What do you mean?” The words quivered in my throat.
“How do you know your father was innocent?” he asked, studying my reaction. “How do you know your uncle didn’t confide in him? That he wasn’t prepared to do the unthinkable to defend his family?”
“Because …” I faltered.
Valentino narrowed his eyes, and I felt colder all of a sudden.
“Because my father would never hurt someone deliberately,” I said with renewed confidence. I wasn’t sure of much, but I was sure of that. “He’s not capable of such a thing.”
“Did you think your uncle was capable of masterminding an entire drug cartel before today?”
I hesitated.
“Did you think I was capable of overseeing a dynasty of assassins before the moment in which we now find ourselves?”
I looked away from him, but he didn’t relent.
“Did you think, the first time he kissed you, that Nic was capable of drowning a man in his own bathtub?”
“Stop,” I pleaded, feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit. “Just stop.”
“Masks,” said Valentino. “Look what happens when we take them off.”
“It’s horrible.” I buried my face in my hands again so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of watching his words burn right through me.
“Absolute chaos,” he reminded me calmly, like he had not just annihilated my family’s reputation. “Since it is principally my decision, I think when we have apprehended your uncle at the warehouse, the correct course of action is to settle your father’s blood debt, once and for all.”
I lifted my head again, feeling dizzy and nauseous. “So you’re going to use me to lure him out and then kill me anyway?”
Valentino shrugged. “It is the best plan.”
I thought of my mother and Millie and had to choke back another sob. My mother wouldn’t survive this, she was barely hanging on as it was. And Millie — she had given up entire friendships to stick by me after my dad went to prison. She didn’t have anyone else, not anymore. We only had each other.
When Valentino spoke again his voice was clinical, though the musical edge endured, lilting his words as they stung, one by one. “Nic won’t come for you, Sophie. He doesn’t know about any of this.”
I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, feeling the hollowness inside me harden.
“Do you want a handkerchief?” He pulled a silken red square from the pocket of his shirt. His initials were monogrammed in black thread in the corner.
I ignored the gesture. “I thought you liked me. I thought we understood each other.”
“I do like you.” He tucked the handkerchief back in place, unaffected by my refusal. “If the circumstances were different, I think we’d be friends.”
“But you’re all set to kill me?”
He spoke matter-of-factly. “The reason I was appointed to this position by my father was because I have always been adept at keeping my personal feelings separate from the Falcone mission. I have the ability to compartmentalize.”