“Who do you think?” Her eyes widen with realization. “You thought it was Cosimo? No. He got Papà away from me.”
This doesn’t make any sense. “Why would your father do this to you? You told me he never laid a hand on you.”
“He didn’t!” She shoves her fingers into her hair and huffs out an anguished breath. Her gaze flickers with whatever she’s refusing to tell me. “Rafe, please. Just calm down.”
Calm down? Only then do I clue into the fact that I’m panting like an enraged bear. My pulse is pounding so hard I can hear it inside my ears. My palm is hot around the handle of the knife. Every muscle in my body is tense, ready to strike.
It’s happening again. This is how I felt when I saw Ludovico trying to force himself on her in my club. How I felt when I saw her bleeding on the ground in Il Caminetto.
Out of control.
I give my head a shake, Nero’s warning coming back to me loud and clear.
I’ve seen how she gets under your skin.
Fuck it. I don’t give a fuck about any of that right now. All I know is that I’d do anything to protect her. Anything. And if that means killing her father so he can never touch her again, so be it.
She grabs my wrist and tries to pull me in the direction of our car. “Please. Let’s just get into the car and go home.”
“Cleo, tell me what is going on. Why would your father do this?”
She sniffs.
I force myself to take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
She grimaces. I study her face. Her eyes are wide and, God fucking help me, guilty. I know that look so well I’d recognize it on anyone. But if her father hurt her, why does she feel guilty? And why isn’t she answering me?
Cleo hates her father. She wouldn’t stay silent to protect him. But she’d stay silent to protect herself.
Whatever she sees in my expression makes her let go of my arm. She takes one step back, then another.
Alarm bells are ringing in my head. “What did you do?”
Her cheeks are flushed. “Okay. Listen. I can explain.”
I start to advance on her, my suspicions confirmed. “Do you know how many times people have said that to me? I’ll let you guess how those conversations usually end.”
She backs away from me. “Two weeks ago, Papà made me an offer.”
I match her step for step. “What kind of an offer?”
“He…” She swallows. “He asked me to spy on you.”
My body freezes. A deep pit opens in my stomach, filled with razor blades and ice.
“To what end?” I grind out.
Her eyes fill with tears. “He wanted me to find a weakness so that he could get rid of you.”
I can’t help but laugh. This is too good. Garzolo, that fucking backstabbing snake. I should have known a man like him can never be trusted. But this was really his best plan? Get his daughter involved?
My eyes narrow on Cleo. She makes me feel like I’m going crazy. Did I really just think I’d do anything for this woman? That’s not how this works. I know that’s not how this works.
I’m a don, and my first duty is to my position, not to her. But she is my wife, and she is supposed to be fucking loyal to me.
A tear slips down her cheek. “I didn’t do it!”
My stomach swoops with relief, but it’s short-lived as I rewind our conversation. “Two weeks ago? You’ve been sitting on this information for two weeks?”
She presses her lips together, trying to hold back her emotions. Emotions I don’t fucking understand, because the way it seems to me, I should be the one upset here.
I advance on her. “Did you find anything? Did you spot any weaknesses?”
Her pulse pounds against the side of her neck. She takes another step back. “You don’t have any.”
“You and your father aren’t on good terms. He must have offered you something in exchange.”
“He did. He offered me freedom. I wouldn’t have to marry anyone else. He said that after he managed to kill you, he would disown me, and that I could go to Italy to be with Vale and Gem.”
Go to Italy? In what fucking universe would I allow that to happen? Oh right, the one where I’m dead.
The thought of her living a life without me somehow triggers me far more than anything else she’s just said. My anger pulsates beneath my flesh, my vision narrows, my breaths come out short and quick. There isn’t enough oxygen in my lungs.
This is a possibility she considered for two fucking weeks?
Cleo tries to take another step back, but there’s nowhere to go. Her calf hits the edge of our car, and she yelps as she loses her balance.
I eat up the space between us with two long strides and force her back against the car door. Above us, a fluorescent light flickers. It’s the only movement in the empty garage.
Did I bring this on myself by being so lenient with her? Has she forgotten who she married?
She glances at the hand I’ve got pinning her shoulder, exposing her neck to me. I lift my knife and press the cool blade against her delicate throat. She stiffens. Sucks in a breath.
Sandro’s head pops out on the driver’s side. “Boss?”
“Get the fuck back inside.”
A beat passes before he does as he’s told.
I move my hand from her shoulder to her chin and turn her face toward me.
My wife stares at me with her piercing green eyes, the color of emeralds. Who knew they could hide so much deceit inside their depths?
“He offered you a good deal,” I whisper.
She licks her lips. “Everything I thought I wanted.”
“And tonight, you told him no?”
“I told him no.”
I lean closer. “Took you two fucking weeks to do it, though.”
When she swallows, a part of her neck brushes against my blade.
You know what’s infuriating? Even now, with my knife pressed to her throat, she doesn’t seem scared. Upset, yes, but not scared. Like she knows I’d never harm her, even after what she just confessed. And she thinks I have no weaknesses?
“What finally made you decide not to turn on me?”
Another tear slips down her cheek, but she doesn’t answer.
I press in, my hips pinning hers. “Hmm? What was it? The jewelry, the money, the staff that’s at your beck and call?”
Slowly, she shakes her head. I have to pull my knife back a few millimeters so that she doesn’t cut herself on it.
“Was it the way I ate your cunt a few days ago?”
She bites down on her lip and shakes her head again.
I’m so close, our noses are practically touching. “Then what the fuck was it?”
She exhales a broken breath. “It’s the way you see something in me. Something that no one else does. Around you, I’m not just a fuckup that needs fixing.”
My chest caves in. Something inside me wavers.
A sob escapes her. “I should have told you earlier.”
Glistening eyes. Wet cheeks. Parted lips. I know guilt, but I know sincerity too. It skims off some of my anger, turns the temperature down.
“You shouldn’t have even considered it. Your father is a fucking idiot, and his plan would have never worked. You should have known that.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”