Impossible Odds

33

He lifted his chin indignantly. “No, I didn’t. Your parents were the past; I was your future.” “Why did you do it? How did you know I was Alvarez’s son?” “There were rumors he had a bastard son. When I confirmed that a child had escaped the siege, I did some cursory searching. My efforts came up empty, so I let it go, but when I saw you at the fight, I knew it was you. You were the spitting image of him.” “That explains how. I also want to know why.” “Are you looking for me to tell you I felt guilt over what I’d done and sought to repent by taking you in? If that’s the case, you’re in for a disappointment. There’s no generosity in my story.” His words were a callous warning. “I want to hear it anyway.” He lifted a brow and glanced back out toward the beach. “I never wanted children of my own because they make a man weak, but there’s something to be said for having a protégé. Someone who can be molded into a proper successor. You became that someone. You had the required ruthlessness in your veins, and your years on the streets had brought that to the surface. You were the perfect subject, and look at what we’ve been able to achieve together.” He lifted his arms to indicate the vast wealth around us. “I am the f*****g king of this country, and you are poised to take over once I’ve tired of my reign.” He hadn’t wanted a son; he’d wanted a mirror. A human experiment. Someone he could mold into his image without fear of injury or weakness. The explanation made sense when I looked at Naz from a different perspective—set aside the desires of a homeless orphan and looked at the man as he was. I couldn’t say I was all that surprised, nor could I claim I wasn’t glad he’d taken me in. He’d given me a far better life than I would have had on the streets. How could I hold that against him? “I doubt your brother would be so thrilled to see me in control,” I countered, curious if he truly intended to hand me his empire. “Juan Carlos will do as I tell him, just as he’s always done,” Naz scoffed. “It’s not up to him to decide the fate of my business.” His eyes cut back to me, all traces of levity vanished. “But what happened in New York calls into question my faith in you.” “How can a man become a leader if he’s not able to make his own decisions? I assessed the options, and in my judgment, I took the right path. She was unprotected by a mafia husband or boyfriend, and she made the job easy by coming with me willingly. Can you really not see why I might have altered my plans?” He continued to stare down his nose at me. “That had better be the case. Should I decide that this woman has clouded your judgment in any way, I will take matters into my own hands.” He finally broke eye contact and stood. “It’s time for me to get dressed for my meeting. I’ll be in touch.” And with his parting words, I’d been dismissed. The conversation hadn’t been particularly good or bad, but just getting past it eased the tension in my chest. Naz would continue to watch me carefully, assessing my actions beneath his paranoid microscope, but I could still breathe easier knowing not all the scrutiny would be aimed at Giada. My relief that she was out of the direct line of fire was not something I cared to analyze. Instead, I spent the afternoon working away from the house and ignoring all things Giada until evening rolled around and I had to return home. As I strolled through the downstairs, I started to wonder if the house was empty when a peal of laughter trailed from upstairs. It was Giada, and her voice echoed with pure delight. I was instantly enraged. What the f**k was Santino doing with her that would warrant that sort of sound? I hadn’t specifically told him not to touch her, but surely he wouldn’t be so foolish. Whether she was my wife or a prisoner, he was never given permission to lay hands on her. I crept up the stairs two at a time, moving soundlessly through the house toward hushed voices and the crack of a pool stick striking balls. The game room. They were playing pool. I stepped into the doorway just as Santino bumped Giada with his shoulder playfully, then spotted my presence and hastily retreated. His sudden change in demeanor caught her attention, and Giada looked my way as well. “Perfect timing!” She grinned. “We were just starting another game. You can join us.” She wore a pale blue strapless sundress and had her hair cascading down her back in loose waves, completely unaware of how f*****g gorgeous she was and the seething anger I hid just below the surface. Witnessing them together, laughing and flirting, I could hardly see straight from the vibrating fury inside my head. Santino was far more aware of how precarious the situation had become. “Actually, now that Primo is home, I need to head out.” He placed his cue stick back on the stand and nodded at me warily, only addressing me when he was close enough that she couldn’t overhear. “She was bored, Primo. And nothing happened, so don’t blow it out of proportion.” Knowing he was walking on treacherously thin ice, he slipped out of the doorway and off to safety. I turned my attention back to Giada, who assessed the balls on the table as if a tornado of trouble wasn’t swirling right out her window. “What the f**k did you think you were doing?” I growled at her, unable to hold back the savagery in my tone. Giada stilled and lifted her eyes. Instead of the shocked innocence I expected to see on her face, she wore a victorious battle mask. “Entertaining myself,” she asserted without an ounce of fear or hesitation.