“You think I had my sons arrested?” Giovanni scoffs as something catches my eyes up past the grand entrance of the castle.
Roman silently steps around his father, making his body stiff at having his son at his back while his others remain in view, knowing all too well just how perfectly they work as a group. “You tell me,” he murmurs darkly as a figure appears at the top of the stairs, a figure that instantly grinds on my nerves. “You have the connections to pull it off and the motivation. How easy your life would be if your three sons were locked away behind bars. You wouldn’t have a care in the world, but that’s where you’re wrong. If you think for even a second that we wouldn’t have a pull, even from behind bars, you’re going to be sorry. Watch your back, Father.”
Giovanni scoffs, discreetly stepping to the side to see all three of his sons at once as his bitch of a wife sails down the grand entrance as though she owns the place. “Don’t insult me,” Giovanni spits. “If I wanted to get rid of you, I would put a bullet through your miserable brain. Don’t assume that I take part in playing ridiculous games like you do.”
Roman laughs and walks back toward his brothers as Ariana steps in beside her husband, handing him a drink like the perfect little wife, only her gaze is locked on me.
My lips pull up into a sneer as her stare trails over my body, taking in every last scar. It takes me a moment to remember that the last time we saw each other, the boys wrapped me perfectly in a gown that covered the extent of my injuries, but here in this cropped white tank, my body is on show for the world to see, every one of my scars telling a loud and horrendous story.
I expect her to be taken aback, or at the very least look a little shocked by the scars, but instead, a smugness creeps into her expression and the bitch almost looks happy about the hell I’ve endured.
A wicked smile crosses my lips, knowing exactly what kind of cards I hold in my hands. “See something you like?” I question, letting her and everyone else around us hear the double meaning in my tone.
Ariana blanches for a moment, knowing just how dangerous this could be for her, but after forcing me to spread my legs when I was vulnerable and terrified, then demanding I repay her kindness during Giovanni’s business dinner, I kinda hope this gets her in a bit of hot water. Karma’s a bitch and is best served with a face like mine.
She quickly recovers, doing her best to put on a show for her husband, though something tells me she puts on a good show for him every damn night. Her knees would be just as bruised as mine, only mine are bruised for a very different reason. “I’m just glad to see those boys finally put you in your place for that smart mouth of yours.”
I roll my tongue over my bottom lip. “I’d bet you’d love to see just what this smart mouth can really do,” I tell her, loving the tightness in her eyes and wondering if by any chance she might have been the hooded girl that shot Marcus, though my gut still screams Felicity. “Why so smug, Ariana? Is there something you’re hiding? Something you want to confess?”
Giovanni turns his attention on his new wife, his eyes narrowed to slits, having every reason not to trust her, and considering he blackmailed her until she stood at his side, he shouldn’t trust her. This bitch is as vile as they come. “What does she speak of?” Giovanni demands, spitting his words like poison in his mouth.
Ariana shakes her head. “I haven’t got a clue,” she says. “I met the girl once during your dinner party and tried to be nice and look where that got me. She’s just another jealous bitch trying to cause problems. They all do, you know that better than anyone.”
Giovanni scoffs as though everything she just said makes perfect sense before he turns his attention back on me, his lips pulling up in disgust. “Then what are you waiting for?” he questions his wife. “Go and deal with it.”
“Gladly,” she says, her shoulders pulling back in excitement. She strides toward me, her expensive red-bottom heels clicking against the asphalt as her gaze sweeps over my body. She shakes her head as though what she sees is so pathetic, it’s not even worth her time. “You better watch your tongue,” she murmurs, keeping our conversation private. “I am not somebody you want to mess with.”
“Really?” I laugh. “That’s cute. Though, I wonder if you’ve realized yet that holding my tongue isn’t exactly one of my strong points.”