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“What?” I turn to him, venturing a step closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I wanted to tell you the other night—as soon as I found out. But you didn’t want to talk. Then, after that, it never seemed like a good time.”
The way some people’s old joints can sense rain, my hip can sense drama. Pain flares up, hot and stabby. “Tell me now.”
“Remember the bounty?”
“The one that got me exiled for three months?” I roll my eyes. “Nope. Forgot all about that.”
“Turns out, Alessandro Calcagno didn’t get the idea for that hit all on his own.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The suggestion came from someone else. Alessandro was just the man with the power to enforce it.”
He watches me carefully, letting me draw my own conclusions. Again and again, my brain connects the dots. But again and again, I refuse to see it.
“No. Just… no.”
“It checks out,” he warns.
I shake my head. “No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t.”
“Enzo is the one who told me,” Arsen continues. “He wasn’t there for the original deal, but he got the details from his father. He’s a reliable source.”
Chills run down my arms as my face burns. My eyes sting with… tears? Rage? I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I know that this can’t be happening.
“He wants the house,” I breathe. “That’s all he wants. He wouldn’t— He— I’m his daughter.”
“I know this is a lot, Laila.”
“It’s not a lot; it’s impossible!”
But as I say it, I know it’s not. I know Arsen wouldn’t tell me that my own father took a hit out on me unless he had no doubts that it was true.
“This isn’t about you,” he says gently. “Not entirely. According to my sources, your father is in deep debt. That house is his lifeline—his only hope. He owes some very powerful men millions.”
“The house isn’t worth that much.” My voice sounds as paper thin as I feel.
“Perhaps not, but it’s a way for him to hold them at bay for a little while longer.”
None of this is funny, but I burst out laughing. “He’d kill me for some stopgap money? He’d still be drowning in debt, but my life is worth another couple weeks of freedom for him?”
“That’s the kind of man he is,” Arsen grits out. “He didn’t have any qualms about sacrificing you. Why should you feel any differently about him?”
The way he phrases the question… It all sounds soreasonable. Whyshouldn’tI let Arsen deal with my father the way he would with any other lowlife criminal who crossed his path?
Because it’s not what Mom would want me to do.
I drop my head into my hands. “I’m not like him, Arsen. If he dies, he dies. But I’m not going to be the one to order his death. That’s not me.”
Arsen nods grimly. “I know.”
The silence stretches, making all the things we’re not saying to each other painfully obvious. At least to me.
“I want to fight him in court,” I croak eventually. “Do things the right way.”
“And if he starts fighting dirty?”
