Page 11 of Ruthless Sinner
I almost burst into laughter. “You’re wrong. My father hates me.”
“Your father loves to torture you. He loves to hurt you. And sure, maybe deep down, he hates you. But he loves to hear your screams too much to let you go. So until he pays me the money he owes my family, you’re mine, cara mia. All. Mine.”
A shiver runs down my spine. Last night, I wrote this man off as a quick fuck before my carriage turned into a pumpkin at midnight, and I went back to my tortured existence. This morning, he has turned my entire life upside down.
“You don’t know what my father is capable of.” Dante doesn’t know what Tommaso Martinelli will do in the name of hatred.
“That’s why I’m inviting him over for lunch. You’ll join us.”
My father is going to kill me when he gets me back. Dante Terlizzi might as well sign my death certificate now. “You’re making a mistake,” I warn him one last time.
He does not heed my advice. Instead, he leans down to press his lips to mine. It is the briefest of kisses, so quick that I almost think I imagine it. Dante pulls centimeters away a fraction of a second later, leaving our faces achingly close. “Perhaps, but Tommaso made a mistake when he borrowed without intent to return. He’ll find out soon why delinquent men in this city run and hide when they see me coming. I am nothing short of a nightmare, gorgeous. His, yours, and everyone else’s.”
Chapter 11
Dante
Enzo organizes everything, but he looks unhappy doing it. “Martinelli isn’t going to sit down and have a nice lunch with you, Dante.”
“I don’t expect him to,” I shrug. “But if he expects to get his daughter back, he’ll show some restraint.”
“I thought you weren’t giving him his daughter back,” Enzo says warily.
The table looks magnificently set; I should thank the staff. “I don’t, but Tommaso doesn’t know that. He needs to come to the table properly motivated. Did you tell him we have Adalina?”
“Yes. He cursed at me in a string of colorful Italian words that made me blush.”
I flash my bodyguard a smile. “That’s because you’re a good Italian boy.”
We burst into laughter, remembering countless moments when Enzo strayed into the realm of criminal activity. Good Italian boy, my ass.
Someone knocks on the front door, and I know without having to ask that it’s Tommaso. I nod at Enzo. “Let him in. If he tries anything, shoot him in the kneecap.”
Adalina seemed more concerned about her father’s retaliatory strike than I would have predicted. Given what I know about Tommaso Martinelli, I believe it’s unwarranted, but I won’t discount her experience. There is a slight chance she knows more about her father than I do. While I’m sure he hasn’t familiarized her with the inner workings of the family business, perhaps she’s seen a thing or two that would lead her to believe he’s more violent than I give him credit for.
I wait in the dining room at the head of the table for Enzo to return. When he does, it’s with a steely look that betrays no emotion. He can be a stone wall when he needs to be. This man walks by my side into every battle, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Where’s my daughter?” The words are like a gunshot, sharp and demanding; Tommaso doesn’t bother with pleasantries or small talk.
But that’s not how I planned out this little charade. “Please, have a seat. The cook will be out in a moment with lunch.”
Tommaso looks at the chair helpfully pulled out for him. “I’m not hungry. I only came here to get my daughter back.”
I sit anyway, arranging my napkin in my lap and making myself comfortable. “I hope sparkling water is okay. I wasn’t sure what your preference was.”
“Are you listening to me, Terlizzi? You fucking kidnapped my daughter, and I want her back. Now. Or else you’re going to regret it.”
I can see where Adalina gets her hot head from. She is just like her dear ol’ dad. The difference is I like it when she’s a little mean to me. When Tommaso does it, it just makes me homicidal. “Please sit down and indulge me for a few minutes. Adalina will be out shortly, and you’ll see she is perfectly fine—safe, even, or at least safer than she is in your care.”
His face turns a bright shade of red, as if he didn’t expect me to be aware of the abuse he inflicts on Adalina. But the promise of his daughter’s safe return is enough to make him sit down. As he settles in, his protruding stomach bumps against the table’s edge, causing it to wobble slightly. He does not offer an apology for the disturbance. “Where did you find her?”
“Disney World. Why does it matter?”
“Because she’s my daughter,” he replies between gritted teeth. “I have the right to know what she is doing at all times.”
I’ll admit, he makes me smile. He’s so unintentionally funny. “She’s an adult, Tommaso. She doesn’t owe you an explanation any more than I do.”
He brings his fists down on the table with resounding force, causing his fork to clink against his glass. “God damn it, Terlizzi. Tell me where my daughter is this fucking second or I will burn this house to the ground.”