Page 26 of Revenge on the Mafia

But I couldn’t. All I felt was a chill in my veins, a shudder in my body that wouldn’t stop.

“What the hell, Anna?”

“No,” I sobbed. Don’t sedate me. I tried to crawl away but someone pulled me up. Instead of a sting, cold water gushed on my hands. My insides shook the entire time.

“Hey.” A hand gripped my chin, and I shook it off. “It’s me, Anna. Isidora.”

Isidora?

I forced my eyes to pry open. Slowly, like smoke clearing after a fire, my vision came into focus. Isidora stood with a worried gaze in front of me. “It’s just a cut, Anna.” I couldn’t help the sob that ripped out of me. She frowned. “What happened to you?”

My “nothing” sounded as hollow as an echo in an empty cave.

Her lips twisted into a sad smile, but she didn’t push me for the truth. “Let me finish up. Just tell me what to do, because if I cook, the man will drop to his death.”

I grimaced. She cleared up the mess I’d made while I averted my gaze. I was leaning against the counter by the wall. The empty metal strainer was on the floor. I had no memory of throwing it, yet there was no other explanation for it.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” Isidora stood in front of the island, knife in hand, clean cutting board before her. My voice shook as I gave her instructions. She followed every step without suspicion. A sharp pang of guilt bit into me. She was an unsuspecting accomplice in something that had nothing to do with her. But once I’d started, I couldn’t get myself to stop. The king prawns were already cooked. All she had to do was add them to the dish. She set them in a clay pot and placed the crusty bread next to it. But I put a stop to it when she made to pick it up.

“I’ll take it.”

She gave me a look. One that said ‘you look like shit and you are going to act like shit’.

“Just give me a minute to wash my face.”

Leaving her behind, I made my way to the washroom. Three times in a row, I splashed my face with cold water. Only after I had dried my face could I finally look at myself in the mirror. Pale face, and red eyes that gave everything away. He was going to know my intentions the moment I stepped into that room. Over and over, I repeated the words. No somos cobardes. We are not cowards.

With a final deep breath, I walked into the kitchen and shooed Isidora away. Told her to take a break in her room.

I wanted her out of sight. No one should witness a dying man. I would know what it did to you.

After she left, I stood in the heavy silence of the kitchen and took three deep breaths. Then I pushed the door and walked into my mission. But the sight in the dining room brought me to a dead stop.

“I don’t know why you’re putting me in charge. Where are you going to—”

Two pairs of eyes turned toward me. One hazel, warm, and charming. The other a cold sheet of mystery. For a split second, something dark shifted in them before it vanished entirely. He didn’t want me there.

He was dressed entirely in black. Black pants and a button-down. No tie nor coat in sight. He really looked nothing like his father. Nothing like the Mafia. Although my only reference to the Mafia had been his father. Still, he looked more like the CEO of a multimillion-dollar enterprise. Capable of cold-heartedly firing people from his establishment.

Who was I kidding? Both these men were more than capable of taking a life. They would do it again and again.

His brother, Stefano, shifted to Italian. He asked something, and Niccolò answered him after a beat, his cold eyes still on me.

I chewed on my lower lip. When had he turned up? This was a complication I hadn’t predicted. It was clear from his looks that he didn’t want me meeting his brother. I considered my options. Retreat and try another time, or serve the dish and make a run for it.

Joder. It was time he choked on sesame oil.

They had something in common. Couldn’t be character because Stefano was a social butterfly. Easy to find on any social media platform. It was the sharp lines of their faces and the subtle danger pooling out of their bodies. Stefano was almost as tall as the monstruo but his hair was longer, reaching down to his shoulders, and he was relaxed. Like a friend you didn’t see as dangerous, but who was just as deadly or even worse.

“What’s on your mind, chica?”

He was a charmer, too. But I already knew that. Quite the womanizer.

“Stefano.” One word. A warning threaded within it.

Which Stefano ignored. “What? Whatever she’s holding smells good. I could have a second dinner.”

Unease gripped me. This would not work. I was already moving when his words halted me. “Get out. That’s mine.” For a second, I thought he was talking to me.