I scoff, shaking my head as I listen to his explanation. “Right, so you’re telling me that after ten or so years, she’s never been able to get away from him? Never been able to run or disappear despite the unlimited cash and resources she has access to?” I question, looking him dead in the eye. “How many times has she taken off on a jet to vacation in Italy or France? How many times has she easily slipped out of your father’s home and spent the night here or out at some dodgy club without question? I’m sorry Roman, but I don’t know if you’re blind or just stupid. That woman has power over your father and she loves it. She’s not suffering in that big-ass mansion, she’s his perfect, doting wife. She gets everything she wants, and while it may not have started that way, it definitely is now. You’re just too racked with guilt to see it. She’s using your emotions against you.”
Roman stands, his jaw clenched. “Stop,” he growls, his stare boring into mine.
I sit up on the couch, not breaking his hold. “What’s the matter, big guy? Don’t like it when someone throws some cold, hard facts at you?” I stand and walk around the coffee table, putting myself right in front of him as I feel his brothers’ eyes locked on the show, waiting for Roman to lose control. “I grew up around bitches like her in the worst kind of area. I know a snake when I see one, and that woman is the biggest one of all. She’s got you wound around her little finger and you can’t even see it. I bet if she called you up right now with some sob story, you’d drop everything and run to her side.”
Roman just stares, refusing to answer me, so I raise a questioning brow and turn to his brothers, more than ready to wait all day to get the information I need. Realizing I’m not backing down, Levi lets out a heavy sigh. “She’s right, man. Ariana calls, you go running.”
Roman glares at his brother for a long moment before letting out a sigh and dropping back onto the couch, his gaze locked on the coffee table, knowing damn well I’m right.
Letting out a breath, I sit my ass down on the edge of the coffee table, keeping my gaze on Roman. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m not saying this to be a bitch or anything, I just don’t like to see how easily she’s getting away with playing you. If anything, I should be trying to become her new best friend to figure out how the hell she does it.”
Marcus scoffs. “No need,” he mutters darkly. “You’re already doing a fucking great job at it.”
My lips pull into a smirk. “What’s the matter, Marcus? Am I a little too deep under your skin?”
He glances away, staring out the window as though I didn’t say a damn thing and I turn my attention back to Roman.
“Why?” Roman finally says. “What’s the fucking point in trying to play me? She gains nothing by having me at her side.”
I shake my head. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re the biggest player in this game and once you’ve overthrown your father and stand at the head of the family, you’re going to have more power than Giovanni ever could. She can sense that just as clearly as I can and having you at her disposal makes her more powerful than you could ever know. With a click of your fingers, she would get anything she ever wanted. You’re her free ride to the top.”
Roman’s hands ball into fists on his thigh as the realization and anger begins pulsing through him and I find myself standing and moving toward him. I climb onto his lap, straddling him while keeping a small distance between our bodies, not wanting him to get the wrong idea and push me off him like he did the other night. “Hey,” I say, demanding his full attention. “Don’t get pissed about it, get even. Cut the bitch off and let her fumble through this fucked-up world like the rest of us. You’ve already done her enough favors.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not as easy as you think it is,” he mutters. “What my father holds over her … my brothers and I owe her our lives. The reason we’re able to breathe right now is because she gave everything up to save us.”
My brows furrow as I glance back at Marcus and Levi to see sober expressions on their hard faces. Marcus nods as Roman’s fingers uncurl from his tight fists and rest against my thighs. “It was just like with Flick,” Marcus says. “Only she was about eighteen and barely out of high school.”