Page 74 of Sinfully Owned

Natale preferred the cellar outside Naples, which was close to Mount Vesuvius and thus had nice advantages on its own. I preferred to be down here. This was my second home, and it had a certain charm to interrogate the men down here.

At some point, I had partitioned off a section of the basement and put a thick steel door on it. It was unlikely that any noise would get out– the insulation was too good– but I didn't like unexpected surprises, so I preferred to play it safe before anyone strayed into the wrong part of the cellar and discovered body parts behind the wine racks.

The room was bare. Tiles that could be easily washed and a water hose for just this purpose. A chair, a side table with various tools and a naked bulb dangling from the ceiling. Right next to the metal chain, which also hung down and continued to heat up over the hours under the direct light. A nice little feature.

In one corner of the room there was also a barrel. Acid. However, this had not been used once in all these years, because the mere sight of the highly corrosive liquid was enough in most cases to make the men talk.

If I failed in making them talk by pain, fear always helped. Because they all feared death after a certain point.

Of the five men Vince and Natale had encountered in the cottage, only one was still alive. The others were lying in a heap a few meters away. Dead. All of them.

As soon as I was done with the candidate in front of me, I would take care of the bodies and make sure that they got a concrete grave as well, or else ended up in one of the rented storage rooms. In pieces, of course, because there was no way I could risk a whole body being found if one of the hiding places was ever discovered.

For the first time since the arrival of the last surviving man of the French group, I focused my gaze on him and studied his features.

Beads of sweat danced on his forehead. I suspected he was a few years older than me and had not played an important role. However, that was still no proof of his ignorance.

In my experience, these candidates always knew the most. They didn't stand out; they were just a silent presence. Nobody was interested when they were in the room, when the important things were being discussed.

I would take advantage of that as I started questioning him right away. First the work, then the pleasure.

There was a reason Vince had reminded me again how important it was to get answers to our questions. Only if he talked, would we know whether we had to expect further attacks or whether the issue was off the table with his death.

"Why don't we start with a simple question?" The man in front of me raised his head. So far nothing had happened to him. The other two men had not touched a hair on his head and I had done nothing either, except for the fact that I had tied him up with the metal chain.

So his hands were above his head, holding him in an uncomfortable position, but that was still no reason to refuse me.

"I'd like to know your name," I said after I finished the dramatic pause.

To my amazement, he nodded. "My name is Jerome."

The four words were enough to tell me he understood Italian but did not speak it himself. A strong French accent trailed his English.

So he wasn't terrified of me yet. How long would that last?

"I am Dario de Archard. But you already knew that."

My companion tilted his head.

"What organization do you work for?"

His lips drew into a smirk. "The French mafia. It's possible my father forgot to mention that when he first contacted your brother."

I held back the curse that was on the tip of my tongue. That changed everything. I had to inform Vincenzo about it right now.

"What was your father trying to accomplish?"

"He had a utopian plan to incorporate existing structures and globalize our business."

"You do not agree with him?"

"I don't believe in fishing in other people's waters."

I lifted my eyes from my phone and looked at him, unable to hide my surprise.

Why did he sound more reasonable than all the men I'd had in this basement put together?

Instead of finishing the message to Vincenzo, I crossed my arms and eyed him. "You're following your own plans," I stated.