Five

His jaw tightens, and he motions for Mateo to untie my wrists. As the bindings fall away, I rub my sore wrists, trying to ignore the lingering ache and the aftershocks of pain from the electrocution. I can barely feel my legs. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand and take a deep breath before letting out a shaky exhale.

"Leave us," Alessandro orders, his tone tolerating no argument. Luca and Mateo exchange a glance before exiting the room, leaving me alone with him. I can see the reluctance in Luca’s steps as he leaves. It is clear that he still wanted to torture me.

I reach to take off the mask but he stops me.

"The mask stays on," 

“What do you want from me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the terror coursing through me.

He doesn’t answer immediately. He just studies me, his gaze intense and thoughtful. He grabs a seat and pushes it toward me to sit on. I don’t. My knees are killing me and my feet are probably numb, but sitting down would mean I am ready to talk to him, and I am not. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and dangerous.

“I want to know what your deal is with the FBI,” he says, stepping closer. “And you are going to tell me everything.” His low tone sends a shiver down my spine.

“Now, sit!” he commands. I look at the chair and sink into it without a fight. My legs are weak, and the room reeks of burnt flesh—my burnt flesh. I can still taste the blood in my mouth, the metallic tang mixing with my fear. He folds the sleeves of his shirt, which under normal circumstances would have been a turn-on for me, but this is not a normal circumstance. He looms over me, his presence commanding and oppressive.

“You know, when you got me arrested at the ball, I thought the FBI had picked some random artist from the gala, someone they knew I would be attracted to, who would serve as a good distraction so they could make their move. But then you show up at my home, and I knew you weren’t just some innocent photographer,” he says. I swallow hard.

“Me showing up at your place was coincidental. I was genuinely lost,” I try to explain, but he scoffs and shakes his head. Of course, he doesn't believe me. No sane person would.

"See, I’m having a hard time believing that. Your interactions with my wife,” he begins, his voice a dangerous whisper, “were a threat. And I don’t take threats lightly.” I furrow my brows in confusion, swallowing hard again as my mind races for a way out.

“I’m not a threat to your wife,” I manage to say, but the look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t believe me.

“Who are you truly working for?” he asks again, his tone cold and unyielding.

I clamp my mouth shut, knowing that saying anything could seal my fate. A long silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating with tension. He pulls another seat, sits across from me, and leans in, a smirk forming on his lips. With him this close, I can see the color of his eyes—they are the most perfect shade of green I have ever seen. I didn’t think someone with a heart as cold as his would have such beautiful eyes. He doesn’t deserve such a feature.

“If you don’t talk,” he warns, his voice low and menacing, “I’ll call Luca back in to finish what he started.”

A new wave of fear claws at my insides, and I move back from him before forcing myself to speak.

“I work with the FBI,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know why you won’t believe me.” He shakes his head.

“Because, for one, my family has been running this city for decades without the FBI ever being a problem. We do our shit, give the local police their share, and they look the other way. Then suddenly, I am apprehended without any charges. Do you even have any idea how that looks to my rivals? And second, they used you, some strange new girl in the country. So no, R.E.; Renée Evans, I don’t believe that you are working for the FBI alone.”

I won't say another word because I honestly do not have the answers he is looking for. Dell and his colleagues haven’t offered me much intel to go with, and I’m beginning to think it’s probably because they knew if I knew something and I was tortured, I would break and say something.

He studies me for a moment, then shakes his head.

“If you don’t answer my questions, I won’t let you go,” he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. I know he means every single word, and if I’m honest with myself, I knew this day would come one way or another—the day they would kill me. I just didn’t expect it to be this soon. I was hoping to have found my father before then.

“Dell will find me,” I say, desperation creeping into my voice. I don’t know how long I was out, but I know by now he is at the very least worried about me after I hung up on him.

Alessandro’s lips curl into a cold smile.

“I know that your car is owned by an FBI agent and that it can be tracked. That’s why I had it driven to Eleonora’s. If he calls her to ask about you, she’ll just say you’re occupied. So you see, you have no way out.”

A surge of panic grips me. If they did all that, then he is right. I have no choice but to play along, at least for now, because I seriously do not want to die today. I didn’t sign up for any of this.

“What did the FBI offer you to work for them?” he asks, his gaze piercing. “I have done my research on you, and there is nothing... well,” he looks me up and down and then shrugs, “nothing of interest about you. Why did they pick you?”

“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “I was just following orders.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” There is no way in hell I am going to tell the leader of a mafia group that I am working with the FBI because they believe his group had something to do with my father’s disappearance. That would be insane and a one-way ticket to the grave.

He regards me thoughtfully, then leans in closer. “I’ll offer you a counter deal,” he says, and I look at him, my brows narrowing in confusion.

What the hell is he talking about?

“You keep doing whatever they have you do, but you tell me everything. Find out what they have against me, and in return, whatever they have promised you, I’ll give you double, triple even.” I squint my eyes and shake my head in disbelief. He thinks I would risk my life like this for money. He thinks I work for the FBI for their money. He is so unbelievable.

“No, thanks, I don’t want your blood money.” He lets out a laugh and then leans back in his seat.

“Blood money, huh? They’ve really filled your little mind with scary stories of fiction, haven’t they?” I just stare at him, wondering why he would think I would be that dumb.

“They don’t have to. Your family has a reputation,” I say, and he frowns. He is clearly not pleased by that.

“Okay, so how about this: you work for me and I'll let you live. As a bonus, I won't harm your friends.”

My mind races, weighing my options. It’s a dangerous game he is proposing, but it might be my only chance at survival.

“Why should I trust you?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“You don’t have a choice,” he replies smoothly. “Besides, my wife seems to have taken a liking to you. I can't kill you without upsetting her,” he says with a smile, and I roll my eyes. Did he think that was supposed to make me happy? He pushes his seat back and stands up.

“I’ll have a doctor come in to check your wounds before letting you go. I will be in touch, my dear, pincipessa,” he says, then takes a few steps away, stops, “Oh, and Renée, if you ever roll your eyes at me again, it will be the last time you ever use them.” And with that, he walks out of the room.

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