Lorenzo sneered, “Do not speak English in this house.”
Not only did I refuse to follow a direct order from a wanna-be in charge Giordano, I actually replied with, “Let me get this straight. For years now, I have been working on a language I need to speak to save your niece, yet it is not good enough for your privileged ears?”
Mr. Giordano warned, “Angelo. Enough.”
Yes, I was being disrespectful and ruffling the high tension in the room, but I had my reasons.
From behind his desk, the elder stood and asked Lorenzo, “What is this about?”
“Papa, how am I to know? I do not speak that foul language.”
Lorenzo claimed to not know English, but the way his jaw locked at my insult, I knew he was a liar. I knew, someday, he would be the recipient of my razored wings.
Mr. Giordano rested his fists on his desk and leaned forward like a Silverback Gorilla. “Angelo is claiming you have an issue with the language he needs to save a Giordano family member. Is this true?”
I stood my ground, staring down his son, wondering how he was going to talk himself out of what I had just exposed.
Apparently, Lorenzo was going straight for the kill—money. “It cost us hundreds of thousands of dollars to find Isabella—”
His father snarled, “And now she is back in our arms.”
Lorenzo raised his voice, “And you think we will be that lucky twice? Papa!”
He pointed to the ceiling. “God will bring that girl back to me.”
Lorenzo practically rolled his eyes. “That seems unlikely since she is most likely dead. Isabella gave her a knife to use if ever attacked.”
Only Suits and Mr. Giordano were privy to that information. That told me Lorenzo had a Suit on his ‘personal’ payroll. Now, I needed to know why.
The answer would come soon. Lorenzo, on a roll of his own, couldn’t seem to stop digging himself deeper. “Since Scar was in the care of traffickers, that knife was put to use. You think those men would let her live after that?”
My stomach tightened. Mrs. Rossi was right. “How did you know her nickname is Scar?”
Lorenzo jolted before he caught himself and played dumb. “What are you talking about?”
My skin began to boil. “Do you know where she is?”
“Angelo!” Mr. Rossi warned.
Lorenzo gestured to me. “Papa, you see? You don’t have a chance at finding Scarlett with this imbecile. He is now accusing me of knowing Scarlett’s whereabouts. Why, because I have overheard my sister calling her daughter this?”
Mr. Giordano was paling by the second as he looked at me. “You better have a damn good reason for what you are proposing. Because of who your father was, I will give you one chance to explain before I order a bullet in your head.”
I had surrendered my life to his family, trying to save his granddaughter, yet he was willing to end my life. It reminded me of my place, and what I would always be to this family.
A hired gun.
That stung. Now, I had to fight for my own life so that I could save Scarlett’s. “Sir, I apologize for any disrespect, but Isabella, only moments ago, had a memory of the nickname Scarlett’s captors call her. His already knowing this information caught me off guard.”
Horror etching his face, Mr. Giordano looked to his son.
Lorenzo lifted his hands. “Papa, I may be many things that do not please you, but I am not in the business of selling humans, nor would I stand by and do nothing for my niece if I knew her location. The reason I am aware of this nickname is because,” he exhaled, “I have been listening in on all of Isabella and Angelo’s conversations.”
I growled, “Those are private.”
Lorenzo lifted a brow. “You believe this?” He sneered, “Nothing you do on this property is private. You are a Giordano employee.”
Tired of being degraded for the day, my nostrils flared. “I am well aware that I am completely disposable to this family. I was speaking of your sister’s privacy. She trusted me with details of her violent rapes. Not you.”
His upper lip lifted. “Well, it is a good thing I have all the conversations recorded. My sister’s judgment seems to be… off.” He looked to his father. “And yours. Angelo cannot replace his father. Don’t be so naïve, Papa.”
After his shock wore off, flames shot out of that old man’s eyes. “Naïve, you say? How is this for being naïve.” He told me, “Angelo, if—when you find my granddaughter, you have no restrictions as to the tactic or the amount you may need to offer. If you see fit, you are permitted to offer a million dollars!”
“Papa!” yelled his eldest, as the other brothers hissed at their father’s words, reminding me they were even in the room.
“Enough!” roared the elder. “What you seem to have forgotten, my son, is that it is my money of which we are speaking. And I will do as I please with my money until my body is resting in the ground. To make sure I still have power from the grave, I will be putting Isabella in charge of my money.” As his sons all started in on him, he ignored them and pointed to Mr. Rossi. “You are to report to her if I have an untimely death. Understood?”
Mr. Rossi, seeming to be in a bit of shock, replied to his boss, “Yes, sir.”
The leader glared at his son. “Seeing how you are not next in line, I highly suggest you stop eavesdropping on your sister and start kissing her ass.”
After a delay of utter shock, Lorenzo stomped out of the office.
Mr. Giordano eyed his other two sons, sitting motionless and baffled. “Anything you two would like to add to your brother’s stupidity?”
They both shook their heads, then left the office without another word.
Grumbling under his breath about wishing he had four more Isabellas instead of sons, he plopped down into his office chair. A long exhale was released before he instructed, “Rossi, please go retrieve that recorder and all recordings,” then rubbed a palm down his tired face, “and burn them. My daughter deserves privacy.”
“Yes, sir.” Mr. Rossi patted my shoulder. “I will see you outside for a goodbye.”
I swallowed. This was really happening.
Now alone in the office, Mr. Giordano studied me from his chair. I was surprised when he said, “Money can bring out the ugliest of sides of people.”
I didn’t speak. I just listened.
He exhaled again. “You are about to enter one of the darkest parts of this world, one where that statement couldn’t be truer.”
I swallowed again. Fear crept up my spine.
“But you have inherited your father’s clever mind.” His hand waved about. “You intentionally pushed for a reaction from my son, didn’t you?”
I still said nothing.
The elderly man nodded in calm surrender, then he asked, “Are you in love with my daughter?”
My eyes widened. “What? No, sir. I mean, I do care for her, deeply, but not in a romantic sense.”
“Good. Because that could never be.”
Now, I was no longer as nervous as much as I was ready to board a plane and leave all the insults behind. My ego wanted to ask, Does fucking your daughter-in-law count? But that would only hurt Noemi and the man she loved way more than me. So, I only said what was expected and needed so that I could leave. Alive. “Of course, sir. I understand.”