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“Not yet. There’s something that still holds my attention here.” I pull out a file and show it to him. “My father had dealings with the Barone family fifteen years ago, do you remember it?”
Ivan looks over the file and contract that was set in place. “I do. Does this have to do with Arabella Barone?”
I don’t let my expression change. “Yes.”
“I had been shown articles and photos of you two spending time together. I knew you’d never show interest in a woman so beneath you, so I wondered where your angle lies. Do you think she has a part to play in this?”
I rein in the bare minimal restraint I have. Beneath me? I suppose the families did have certain expectations and an American girl isn’t quite it. But it’s the history of her mother I find most intriguing.
“I do.” I add. “A hit was made on her mother fifteen years ago. Why?”
Because like all contracts the motives behind it aren’t noted. However, the blood oath and trade of goods does. In exchange for a generous donation to remove Alexander Barone from bankruptcy, he had to hand over his wife.
“I want to know more details of why. You weren’t yet my father’s second in charge at the time. I have reason to believe maybe you had a hand in it.”
He stares at me, calculating. Truths, lies, motives. Where he sits in the equation. “She was asked to come willingly, and if she didn’t, then I was told to dispose of her.”
So it had been him. Which means in every sense Mr. Barone knew his daughter could either be kidnapped or murdered that night in exchange for keeping his empire. Blood, money, and contracts were all the same when it came to one man’s greed. What I couldn’t understand was why my father wanted Ara’s mother in the first place.
“Why did my father want Bianca Barone?”
Ivan seems unsure of himself as he looks between me and Lorenzo. As if this were only a small irrelevant matter. Right now, it was the only thing I cared about in the world. Because on that night, those events are what made Ara who she was today. Something very valuable was stolen from her, something I could never repay or return.
“I don’t really know why it matters,” Ivan says.
“Because I asked you a question.”
He clears his through. “Of course, sir. Because Bianca came from a family, that four generations ago, was one of the most influential mafia families in Italy. Well, before the Armanis grew in power. Most of them were wiped out in the process but some were allowed to live under supervision of course.”
“A contract had been put in place for your father to marry your mother but he met Bianca and became obsessed. In the end, he followed through with what was expected of him. As is expected of the Armani family head,” he says pointedly, and I don’t like his tone nor insinuation. “It was years after your mother had passed and so he seized an opportunity. Alexander Barone approached him when he was falling into heavy debt he couldn’t get himself out of. Though I’m not entirely sure if it worked in his favor considering she ended up dead and all. Or perhaps it did, considering how quickly he moved on.”
My temple is pulsing. It shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. I’d known my parents had an arranged marriage but they loved each other. All of this happened right beneath my nose. I had no idea my father had brokered this specific deal four years before his passing.
The contract is damning evidence of her father’s wrongdoing. This confession is so much more twisted than I originally thought. I wonder if this would break her. After going to such lengths and risking her life to find this information out, I am not sure if she’d find the closure she is after. Or maybe she always knew she was stepping into a dead end. Passing through as different people, keeping people at a distance, and rarely being a part of it, Ara isolated herself from the world seeking revenge but I wonder if deep down that’s all she was after. Because I’ve seen sides to her that want to live.
“What of the Barone’s daughter?” I ask absentmindedly as I tuck the contract away.
“What of her?” Ivan asks surprised. “Do you think she’s trying to make an attack on your family? Or maybe she’s a gold-digging whore like the rest of them here. You have power and wealth. You’ve had women flock to you since you were in your teens. She’s most likely after that.”
My smile is tight. Arabella Barone is many things, but if she wanted my money, she would’ve made a grab for it by now. No my sticky little stalker was after something far grander. And would pay the price once she got it. I have no doubt she’ll be here tonight. From the moment I first outed her in her apartment building with the room full of photos, I knew she was different. I saw her drive that matched my own. The inescapable beast tormented her daily. Ara is willing to die for this. Worse, I think she secretly hopes for it to set herself free.
“Well now that I’ve clarified the motive. Shall I show you to our traitor? I think you’ll quite enjoy the display we’ve made of him.” I offer a brutal smile. Because despite my calm I am boiling from the inside at the man who actually thought he’d get away with betraying me. Serendipitously I am grateful to him for bringing my little stalker straight into my web two months ago by chance.
50
ARA
Goosebumps erupt along my skin as I wear a long black dress and coat because its cold as fuck tonight. I almost find it fitting. I feel like I’m walking to my own grave. It’s most likely why Luca told me to wear all black. Which suits me just fine because it’s my favorite color. Besides all of the events, glam, and attention constantly suffocating me I feel myself now more than ever.
The only person I sent a text to was Dmitri. Not that I entirely trust him, but he is also in a way the only friend I have. He has after all seen the true me. And should I not resurface from the Armani mansion, I can depend on him at least to initiate the final step of my plan. He would after all gain one of my father’s companies he had originally bargained for. I advised if he doesn’t hear from me in two days, I’ve given him clear instruction to pull the strings I’ve been carefully webbing for the last few years.
Even in my death I have every intention of wreaking havoc. It feels oddly freeing despite my beating heart and trembling hands as the Armani mansion comes into sight.
Luca’s driver picked me up less than an hour ago and now we’re moving up the pebbled driveway toward the ominous mansion where in some ways it all began. Well, when I first encountered Luca anyway. I haven’t been here since, and now it feels like returning to the devil’s den.
When we park outside the main entrance, Lorenzo is waiting for me beside the front wooden doors. When the car comes to a complete stop, he makes his way to open the door for me. He looks me up and down and pauses momentarily on the black boots I’ve opted instead of heels. A stark contrast to the elegant dress I wear and etiquette of most women he’s probably used to dealing with. Fuck it. Luca wanted black; I am not going to give him an elegant gothic bride. I am going to do this my way.
“Mr. Armani is waiting for you,” he says and gestures me through the front door.
