Page 49 of Bene

Apparently, his parents wouldn’t appreciate them being there when they … well, weren’t, basically. Bene had been quick to explain that wouldn’t even matter once he got rid of the footage of their time there. Vanna found that amusing.

A little.

Vanna only felt the slightest tinge of guilt when she headed past the library about what she was doing. Mostly because she had never felt any connection to the Guzzi family except through the stories she’d been told, and the moments she shared with Bene.

Other than that, her hate fueled by the past and memories of her father kept the vendetta well and alive for her. Nothing else factored into it—she never considered the fact that the family shared a whole life that they wouldn’t want destroyed by someone like her. That behind the private walls of their lavish homes, hid stories of … well, a family.

Love.

Kids.

Marriage.

More.

So yeah, she felt a little bit of guilt as she passed the library, remembering that for the last several years, she had bought a newspaper every second Sunday just to get a peek at the anonymous reviewer’s take on recent book releases. Reading, like cooking, had been a way she forgot about the loss of her father, and it helped her to get through tough times. She loved books, and the fact that she had enjoyed reading a column that Bene’s mother wrote—a fucking Guzzi—had her doing a double take.

Not to mention, the way he spoke about his mom.

And his dad.

His brothers.

All of them.

He spoke about them in a way that almost made her want to like them—as though meeting them would be easy because they seemed like likable, interesting people through his point of view. She didn’t want to give them much time in her mind for that shit because nothing good would come of it, she was certain.

After all, she was here for one reason.

She might enjoy fucking that man.

It meant nothing.

She was still here for a damned reason.

Vanna couldn’t afford to forget it. Her stupid heart couldn’t get in the way of her end game, and neither could her conscience. She wasn’t supposed to have one of those, anyway. And what really were the Guzzis or their love worth to the fact that because of them, her father died. No, they didn’t pull the trigger, but they also didn’t have to.

It only took one pebble to make a landslide.

Decades ago, Gian Guzzi was the pebble.

Vanna would be their landslide.

Palming her phone, she climbed the stairwell to the third floor of the mansion. Down the hall, and to the left, facing the entire front of the Guzzi property, rested Gian’s office.

The door had been closed.

One of those off-limits rooms.

Vanna pushed the door open, and for a moment, simply stood in the doorway. She couldn’t help but notice how there weren’t any cameras in the top floor hallway in this wing. There weren’t any cameras inside the office, either.

Not surprising.

No criminal wanted his acts on tape.

Vanna took in the richly stained wood of the oak desk that dominated the middle of the office, and the built-in shelves that matched behind it. A large, wingback office chair with studded detailing along the sides sat proudly behind the clean, yet still personal, desk. A few pictures of the family rested on the top, and a bowl with a few knickknacks, a lighter, and even a money clip with a few hundred-dollar bills sat inside.

A laptop sat on one side.