Chapter 7: No Loose Ends, No Fuck-ups

Ricardo’s POV

I sniff, then a slow grin spreads across my face as I shake my head and chuckle. My index finger wags at Lana, who is still bound in the chair, with red wrists from the tight ropes. She thinks I’m a fucking degenerate, someone stupid enough to believe her pathetic excuses.

I slam my fist down on the armrest of her chair. Lana flinches, and her eyes widen in fear. I lean in, with my face inches from hers.

“I hate fucking liars!” I yell.

Then, I pull back, forcing myself to breathe, to regain that cool control I’m known for. I lower my voice. “I hate fucking liars,” I repeat.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. She’s too stunned, too terrified to speak. Good.

“My people spoke to Alma,” I tell her, with my gaze never leaving her face.

There it is—a flicker in her eyes, a tightening of her jaw. She’s hiding something, protecting someone. My instincts are never wrong.

Her voice trembles when she asks, “What did Alma tell you?”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

She tries to put on a brave face, but I can see through it. “Alma’s always been jealous of me,” she says defensively. “Of course, she has shit to say about me. Whatever she told you, I didn’t do any of that.”

I chuckle briefly. Lana’s quite the comedian. “Alma didn’t talk shit about you.”

Lana freezes.

I pace slowly around her chair, circling her like a predator. “My guys had Jessica and Alma in custody. Your call came in while they were being held. Luca asked who was calling, but Alma was reluctant. So Luca, being the brute that he is, took her phone by force.” I pause, savoring the tension I know she feels. “And lo and behold, a beautiful picture of Felicity—no, Lana Denver—was staring back at him from the screen.”

Her eyes widen as the panic set in.

“Luca forced her, you know,” I continue, circling back to face her. “He forced her to speak and all she gave were insignificant details about you. Like your government name and your address. Alma didn’t have shitty things to say about you, but here you are, fidgeting and getting all defensive. Makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

I see the gears turning in her head, the desperate scramble for an escape, a way out of this mess. But there’s no way out. Not for her.

I step back, folding my arms across my chest, studying her like a puzzle I’m determined to solve. She thinks she can hold out, keep her secrets tucked away. But I’m a patient man, and this mansion is a fortress. Until she talks, this will be her prison.

She opens her mouth, probably to spew another lie, but I’m done listening. I stand up and my eyes rake over her tied-up form, noting the way her fitted jogging clothes hug every curve. Despite my rage, I am turned on by the sight of her protruding cleavage.

So, I turn away, heading for the door.

“Wait,” she calls after me with desperation. “Even if I’m your girl, even if I’m the one who sold you out, why are you keeping me here still? What do you want to do with me?”

I pause at the door, turning my head just enough to see her from the corner of my eye. The fear in her gaze is delicious, I loved it.

“I’ll decide that tomorrow,” I say coolly. “For now, I need to get Luca to change your clothes. Those tight little jogging clothes are turning me on, and I’d rather not do the things in my head right now. I don’t think you deserve that kind of attention from me. Yet.”

Her face is painted with anger, pity and defiance, but I don’t care. Let her stew in her fear and guilt. Let her think about what’s coming next.

I step out of the room, locking the door behind me. She thought she could outsmart me, betray me, and walk away unscathed.

Not in this life.

As I step out of the mansion, I take a look back at it. Lana fucking Denver. She has no idea what kind of mess she’s in, but she will.

I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Luca. He picks up immediately.

“Capo?”

“Get some new clothes for Lana,” I order, walking towards my car.

“What size?”

I scoff, shaking my head. “She’s fucking sexy, Luca. Anything sexy will suit her. Her body is fucking perfect.”

Luca chuckles. “Alright, capo.”

I end the call without another word and slide into the backseat of my car. The driver is already waiting. “Drive,” I command, and he obeys without question.

As we drive, I put my brother, Angelo, on the line. He picks up after two rings.

“Ricardo,” he greets.

“We need to meet,” I say, getting straight to the point. “Somewhere private.”

I hear him exhale heavily. He already knows why I’m calling. The 35 missing girls. The fucking senators’ daughter. The whole goddamn mess that should have never touched us, yet here we are.

“Where?” he asks.

“The private five-star diner on Fille Royale,” I tell him. “Tonight.”

He pauses. “Antonella spoke to you too?”

“Yeah.” My jaw tightens at the mention of her name. “Her father wants a meeting with both of us. He’s not happy.”

“That old fucker is losing his mind.” Angelo clicks his tongue. “We already put the blame on him, like Jose suggested.”

“And now he wants answers.” My tone is flat.

“He won’t get them,” Angelo replies without hesitation. “We deny everything, right?”

“Right.”

We don’t need to say more. Angelo knows the game just as well as I do. We’ve been playing it our whole lives.

“I’ll see you in an hour,” I say before hanging up.

I lean back in my seat, with my fingers tapping against my thigh.

Inzaghi wants a meeting. That means he’s either desperate or stupid. I don’t care which.

All I know is that tonight, we handle this.

No loose ends. No fuck-ups.

And Lana? She can sit in that room and think about what she’s done. Because her problems are just beginning.