Chapter Twenty

The sound of footsteps racing down the hallway caught her attention and Gianna watched Seth jump over the couch and land next to her. Something like giddiness lit up his eyes.

"I found something." He practically squealed with delight. "Look here."

He thrust his laptop under her nose.

She tried to make sense of it. "What am I looking at?"

"Over the past several years, Matteo has been making trips to New York and meeting with an Arab billionaire named Amir Deeb al Essa, selling unmarked flawless diamonds."

Gianna remembered her trip with him to the city. Remembered their romantic cruise where she saw the Statue of Liberty. He'd used their date to do criminal activity.

"Where'd he get the diamonds?"

"That took a long time to track, but it looks like they were uncut conflict stones smuggled out of Sierra Leone. Four times a year, a jeweler named Roberto Garcia travels to Antwerp, then heads back to Chicago."

"Pockets lined with diamonds," she guessed.

"Pretty much," Seth said. "Eventually, they're sold to Amir Deeb al Essa. It's a brilliant way to fly under the radar while raking in millions."

It pissed her off that Matteo had used their romantic getaway with her as a way to cover his ass.

"Where did the money end up?"

"That's the thing," Seth said. "Half that money up and vanished."

"So, that's what Pietro meant. We need to find where that money is."

Seth frowned. "Well, this is the part you're not going to like."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"It was stolen by your friend," Seth said. "The one who died."

Just when she thought her heart couldn't hurt any more, hearing his name made her heart ache. "What did Tommy do with it?"

"That I'm still tracing, but at least we know where the money Pietro mentioned came from. And since he's not the don, that's called embezzlement."

"I think bad guys just call it stealing."

Her cell phone rang, flashing an unknown number. While she debated if she should accept the call, it fell silent. Then started ringing again.

She picked it up. "Hello?"

"It's me," Matteo said.

"How'd you get my number?"

"I have my ways," he replied. "Just like I'm sure you have yours."

There was something in his tone that sounded off. "Okay."

"Will you have dinner with me this evening?"

He managed to surprise her. "All right."

"I'll pick you up at seven sharp."

"Sounds—"

He hung up on her, and a bad premonition hit her. Something was going to change this evening.

****

Matteo laid his hand on her back, escorting her into the restaurant. The low lighting set an intimate mood, while small candles added to the ambiance. The ma?tre d' gestured to a private table in the back, with heavy curtains giving them a measure of privacy. Matteo held her chair out, and then helped push her toward the table. When he sat down, the ma?tre d' handed them both a tablet before leaving. A server showed up, wearing a long black apron over a monochromatic uniform.

"We'll start with the Rothschild," he ordered.

The server nodded, hurrying away. Instead of focusing on the menu on the tablet, she studied Matteo.

"Something happened," she said.

He stared at her, not showing any emotion.

The server came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She popped the cork and poured Matteo a small amount, handing it to him. He swirled it, smelled it, and then sipped, nodding his approval. The server filled both glasses up and they ordered food before she disappeared once more.

She folded her arms across the table, leaning forward. "What's wrong with you?"

Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket, brought out a velvet jewelry box, and placed it on the table.

"What's that?"

"What do you think it is?"

Again, there was that tone in his voice that warbled just a little. "A ring?"

He gave a one shoulder shrug. "Open it and find out."

She picked it up and flipped the lid, revealing an aquamarine stone. Her stone. Her gaze flew to his and she saw despair. Grief. Anger. In that instant, she knew that he knew who she was.

"How did you figure it out?"

"Little things, here and there. But you getting shots for eosinophilic asthma kind of cinched it. Tell me what the hell is going on, Gianna!" He glared at her. "Or should I say Macy?"

"Macy died in that basement, that wasn't a lie," she told him calmly, closing the lid of the jewelry box. Then she dropped her English accent. "I was reborn as Gianna Violetta Aldighieri Novelly."

"What basement?"

"You know what basement," she said harshly.

"I really don't." He raked a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands. "I saw your death photo. There was a hole in your temple."

"Lighting, blood, and some dirt. But don't pretend you gave a shit."

He leaned closer, the tone of his voice harsh. Tormented. "You were my whole world!"

She lifted her chin defiantly. "Your whole world? You had me killed, so don't sit there and pretend you cared."

His head jerked back as if slapped. "What?"

"Yeah, I know all about your betrayal," she said bitterly. "Your father told me all about it right before he pulled the trigger. That photo would've been real if it hadn't been for a mole in his organization."

"My father," he muttered. "My father?"

There was something wrong with him. He looked … confused. Or, maybe horrified.

"Don't tell me you didn't know what he was up to."

"No, I fucking didn't. Did you think I'd ordered your death?" He shook his head. "I love you! I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I loved you with every beat of my heart. I waged a war for three years trying to kill the people who took you away from me. I loved you in life and I loved you in death."

Confusion filled her. "He told me you were tired of me. That you had made a mistake."

He bowed his head for a moment, looking a little shell shocked. "I was going to ask you to marry me that night."

She gasped. "What?"

He took a deep, fortifying breath as he lifted his gaze to hers. "I came home and my father showed me the picture of your body. He gave me your necklace and told me it was the Iannuzzi family who pulled the trigger. It wasn't until recently that I got out of the fog and started investigating. Tell me what happened."

"There was a disturbance at the arcade and we closed early. My friend Tommy asked if I needed a ride, but I declined."

"Tommy?"

She nodded. "Tommy Reynard. I told you. My best friend."

"Shit. I don't know how to tell you, but he's dead." He blew out a harsh breath. "He was our butler. Said he infiltrated the household to avenge you. Stole a lot of money from my father."

"I know," she said softly, blinking away her tears. Now wasn't the time to think of Tommy. "I have my own sources. I'm warning you now that I will bring Pietro Romanelli to his knees for what he did to Tommy, to me, and to many others. That night, when I walked up to my apartment complex, I was knocked unconscious. I woke up tied to a chair in the basement of your father's home."

A strangled noise rumbled in his chest.

"He beat me. Tortured me. Broke my nose, my cheekbones." She looked down. "My spirit. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live either."

"Oh, my God," he said. "I feel sick."

He grabbed his water and downed half the glass. Gianna slowly realized Pietro Romanelli was more of a bastard than she thought he was.

"You didn't know, did you?" she asked softly.

His eyes snapped toward her. "How could you think I'd betray you like that?"

"It's not hard when someone is punching you in the face." She rose from her chair and moved it closer to him. She rested a hand on his arm. "I couldn't understand what I did wrong. Why you decided you didn't want me anymore."

"Never," he whispered brokenly. "I'll never not want you. My soul died that night. All I wanted was to be with you, but Rocco never left me alone. Forced me to still breathe."

"When your father pulled the trigger, the gun didn't go off, so he ordered one of his henchmen to finish the job and then left the basement. Only, the guy asked me if I wanted to live, and I nodded, so he got me out of there."

"Who was it?"

"Oh, I can't divulge that. He's still in your father's employ. What I can tell you is that Pietro has amassed a bunch of pissed off people who all want to bring down the Romanelli name. And that includes me."

"It's not easy to bring down a mafia don," he said. "How did you turn into Gianna?"

She didn't want to tell him yet what Seth had unearthed. "Pietro was responsible for the death of Orianna Aldighieri's daughter and son-in-law. He wanted Violetta, but she wouldn't have anything to do with him, so he tampered with their car. For years Orianna tried to find ammunition against him, but it wasn't until I came along that she came up with a solid plan. I had to be willing to be your wife and I agreed. So, she invented a granddaughter and she had her personal guard, Caelian, teach me all I needed to know in self-defense and weaponry. I became fluent in Italian. Had to perfect my British accent. And then…"

She had to pause for a moment to clear the tears threatening to fall. When she felt more in control, she continued.

"And then she told me she was sick." Grief threatened to consume her, but she pushed it aside, just like every time she thought about Orianna. "I may not have been her biological granddaughter, but that didn't stop me from loving her. I vowed on her grave to honor her plan and see it through to the end."

"You were going to marry me under false pretenses?"

"I was willing to do anything for vengeance."

"God damn it," he swore.

"I know you want me to be Macy, but I can't be her ever again. Macy died in that basement, and I am Gianna now."

"I thought I was going mad," he admitted. "You reminded me of her. The joke you told, some phrases you said. The way you walked. But it wasn't until you went in for a treatment of eosinophilic asthma that proved I wasn't crazy."

He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it before threading his fingers through hers. They sat there for a moment longer, neither talking. Words weren't needed when so much had happened between them.

The server appeared to deliver their food. Gianna wasn't in the least bit hungry despite how scrumptious her pasta smelled. Once they were alone again, all she did was poke it with her fork.

"I still love you," he said, out of the blue. "Just in case you were in doubt."

"You don't even know me."

With his finger, he circled the air in front of her face. "I don't care what the outside looks like. I know your heart."

"I was planning your downfall," she reminded him. "I was going to marry you, set up bugs all over your father's house and his office. I was going to find out all your secrets and ruin the house of Romanelli."

"Was?"

"I've learned some things, but I'm not sure if I can trust you. Yet."

"I understand," he told her. "I'd be just as angry as you if it had been me. But I didn't betray you, baby. I would never betray you."

"What if I said I'm going to kill your father?"

"I'd help you. I still want to marry you, and I understand you don't love me. It's okay because I have enough love for both of us. And my place is right next to you."

Her heart melted right then and there.