Page 41 of Ruthless Sinner
Misha snorted. “Tell me, Miss Kennedy, do you know why you’re here?”
“You hate the Russos?” I offered. I wasn’t sure if I should play dumb, or share what I knew. One of those options would possibly keep me alive longer, but I didn’t know which one.
Misha chuckled again. “Well of course. But is that all your boyfriend told you? And here I thought he was such a blabbermouth in bed.”
“Marco’s smarter than most of you seem to think,” I said, unable to contain my loyalty.
“Just because the sex is good doesn’t mean he’s everything you want him to be,” Misha said placidly. “Well, if you don’t know, then I’ll tell you. I’d hate for you to wonder why we’re going to do the things to you that we… might very well have to do.”
“I wasn’t aware there was an option for you tonotdo those things,” I pointed out.
“But of course!” Misha smiled. “That’s the thing, Miss Kennedy. If I give your Marco the option—back off and I kill her kindly, keep pushing and I kill her slow—what kind of option is that? Either way you die, and I have to deal with the mess that follows. There should always be an option for you to live. Hope is the true curse—it incentivizes like nothing else.”
Ah, we had a philosopher on our hands. Fantastic.
“So whatarethe options?” I asked.
Occasionally the camera would flash, blinding me for a split-second and disorienting me. I blinked the dancing bright spots out of my vision and tried not to let it annoy me.
Misha shrugged. “The options are that the Russos agree to back off in whatever…schemeit is they’re up to—or you start to lose body parts. Every day they do not respond to our demands…” He eyed me. “You don’treallyneed all your fingers, do you?”
My heart raced, but I breathed deeply and kept my face blank. I’d gone through training for this kind of thing and I wasn’t going to let this man have the satisfaction of seeing me upset or scared. “You might as well kill me. The Russos will never give into any demands from another family. Even if Marco wanted to, he’s not the one in charge. I’m nothing to Don Russo, or Vincent, and they might love Marco but not enough to sacrifice their reputation for him.”
I shrugged. “Besides, just because I’ve lasted longer than most doesn’t mean I’m really all that special to him. He’ll be out with another girl in a few days, just you watch.”
Honestly, it hurt me to even say that. The idea of Marco forgetting about me so quickly and easily made me want to cry, or perhaps rage. I wanted to be as important to him as he was to me. I wanted him to love me, like I loved him.
Was he looking for me, right now? Was he wondering what had happened? I hoped so.
But then fear gripped me. What would happen if Marco got me back? I’d be right back where I started, working against him while wanting just to be with him. I’d still have to betray him.
A horrible sort of determination rose within me. I wondered if this was what it was like to be in the mafia, to have such loyalty to your family that you would rather face any kind of punishment rather than be known as a snitch.
“I think you’re more special to him than you realize,” Misha said enigmatically. He looked at his amateur photographer. “You finished?”
“Da.”
“Excellent. Let us get these to the Russos.” He smiled at me. “Don’t worry. I have a feeling you’ll be safe and sound in your boyfriend’s arms soon enough. Maybe even with most of your body intact.”
I graced him, finally, with a show of my defiance. I smiled slow and wicked. “Or you’re going to end up having to kill me. We’ll soon find out who’s right.”
Whatever you do, Marco,I thought,don’t save me. Let me die.
Let me die loyal.
CHAPTER17
Marco
“Did you fucking see these?” I snarled, storming into Dad’s office.
You did not storm into Dad’s office. You did not storm into Dad’s apartment. You did not ‘storm’ into anything that my father claimed as his. You waited to be summoned, or in extreme cases you made an appointment.
Good thing I thought rule-following was for the spineless.
I slammed the photographs down onto his desk, on top of some papers covered in numbers. “They’ve got her. The fuckingPetrovshave Kennedy, all because you and Vincent decided to fucking meddle.”
Dad stared up at me for a moment, then turned to his personalcapo. “Could you please ask Toby to fetch Vincent?”
