Vengeful Mafia Prince (Vicious Heirs #2)

Chapter Nine—Elena

I tug my coat up high, doing my best to cover my face. I feel like I'm under scrutiny right now, even if that's ridiculous. Nobody knows what I'm doing.

And yet, I know if he finds out about it, he's going to tear me apart.

I don't know exactly how I mean that—or how I want to mean it. I'm so torn between wanting him and hating him, desiring him and despising him, and I need to know what exactly is hiding underneath the surface that he's doing his best to hide.

I reached out to a... well, private investigator is a grand term. But one of the journalism students I met during my first week. They have some connections in the world of the media, and I know that the tentacles of that particular industry reach deep into the undergrowth of this city.

Jordan, the journalism student in question, has agreed to meet me at a coffee shop on campus so he can hand over the information he's got his hands on. Which all seems more than a little neo-noir to me, but hey, if I get to find out what's really going on with Johnny, then it's going to be worth it.

I glance up from the table as the door pings once more, and sure enough, there he is, the man I've been waiting for. Jordan is wearing a large overcoat that he's got pulled up to his chin, and he's glancing around so furtively that I'm sure there's nobody who hasn't noticed him so far.

"Jordan, what the hell are you doing!" I hiss as he finally joins me at the table. "Why are you dressed like that? This isn't some kind of spy drama!"

"What are you talking about?" he demands. "You think I'm doing this for show? I don't want anyone to see me talking to you about this damn family!"

I try to wrap my head around what he's saying. Is he telling me that this is real? That this crazy, batshit getup is because he seriously doesn't want to be seen?

"What exactly did you dig up on Johnny?" I ask him finally after swallowing hard. Suddenly, I'm distinctly aware of how out in the open we are, as though someone could have taken a shot at us at any moment.

He glances around again, then pulls a folder from his bag. He places it on the table and pushes it toward me. I flip it open at once, lifting one arm as casually as I can to shield the sight of the folder's contents from the rest of the cafe.

There's Johnny. He's in the very first picture, at the top of the pile, in a black suit, holding a dark umbrella. His face is written with sadness but something else, too, something that, to me, looks a lot like anger. Seeing him like that, it sends a shiver down my spine, but it's not exactly incriminating in its own right.

"What's this?" I demand as I jab my finger down at the picture. "Where did you get it?"

"I got it from one of the archives of the local papers," he explains quickly. "I was looking for pictures of Johnny anywhere I could find them. I was reaching out to people, showing them what he looked like, and the moment I showed them the picture, one of them brought me down to the archives to show me a picture they couldn't publish."

"A picture? This picture?"

He nods. "This is a close-up of a wide shot of Johnny and his sister, Valentina, at their father's funeral," he tells me. "He died last year. Seemed like he was caught up in some gang warfare stuff."

My jaw tenses. I don't like the sound of this.

"You're saying Johnny's father was involved in the gang scene?" I press.

"Not exactly," he replies. "I'm saying that... that Giovanni is part of this scene, as well."

My breath catches in my throat. "Giovanni? Who's Giovanni?"

"That's Johnny's real name," he explains to me. "His father... his father was Vito Corelli. And he died because he was caught up in a fight between your father and another... businessman, let's say."

I shake my head. I can't be hearing him right. Because my father, my father would never in a million years...

Even as I try to feed myself the lie, it falters. No, I know what my father is capable of, everything he has done. He might have kept me out of it directly, but that didn't mean I didn't notice the kind of man he is. It doesn't surprise me that he would have been caught up in something as dark as this. It doesn't surprise me that he's made enemies bigger than I ever could have imagined, though perhaps it should.

"Why has he been lying to me about his name?" I demand, though I know the answer. The pieces are falling into place—where this guy came from, how he just swung into our lives like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because he knew, deep down, that taking the risk to get close to my father under false pretenses was worth it to him, as long as he got the chance to take his revenge.

And what has happened between us... is that part of the act, too, or is that real? I can still feel his hands on me, his cock moving inside of me, my body giving in to him like I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to.

He couldn't have faked that part. Could he?

Cold horror slithers through me as it all makes sense. He can do anything. Look at how much he's lied to me already. There's nothing he wouldn't be able to look me in the eye and hypnotize me into believing.

I grab the folder and its contents from the table and stuff it quickly into my bag. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want Jordan looking at me the way he was. I've probably landed him in some serious danger, getting him involved in all of this, and I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he knows it.

I hurry for the other door of the cafe, not wanting to step out onto the busy quad in that moment. All around me, students were going about their daily business, as though nothing has changed, as though this is the most natural thing in the world. They have no idea that my world has just been shattered. The man I've been falling for, the man I can't seem to stay away from, the man I've given myself to more than anyone in my life—he's been lying to me all along.

And I might have put my family in danger in the process.

I inhale a deep lungful of air as soon as I step outside, trying to gather myself.

It's going to be okay.

Some part of me has to believe that, even if I don't really trust in it. It can't be okay, not after this, not after—

"Elena, what the hell are you doing?"

A voice cuts through the chaos in my mind, and I turn. It's him. Johnny. Giovanni. The man I hate more than anything right now—and the man I want just as much.

"Why are you following me?" I spit out. He raises his hands, staring at me as though I've lost my mind.

"I'm not following you, Elena. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time and..."

"You really going to keep lying to me, Giovanni?"

The expression on his face as soon as I say his real name tells me everything I need to know. This is the last thing he expected, the last thing he had ever imagined I would come out with, but now that I have, his cover is blown, and I don't know what he's going to do once that sinks in.

All at once, he grabs me and pulls me down an alleyway beside the coffee shop. It's dark enough here that nobody passing at either end of the alley will notice us and he can do anything he wants to me.

"What were you doing with your little boyfriend in there?" he sneers. The real him is coming through now, the real man I've been trying to deny seeing all this time. But even as he tries to talk down to me, I can hear a note of jealousy in his voice. Is he really jealous of me and Jordan?

"So, you were following me?" I fire back at him. He releases me, but the alleyway is so tight that there's barely room to step back from him.

"I was making sure you didn't get yourself into any trouble, Elena," he tells me, a grin curling up his lips. "Well, no more trouble than you've already gotten your dad into, anyway."

Fear, cold as ice, washes through me.

"What are you talking about?" I demand. "You have something on my father? What do you have?"

The smile on his face stretches.

"Oh, you'll see soon enough," he assures me.

I plant my hands on his chest and push him slightly. "You're an asshole!" I exclaim. He pushes his face close to mine, our mouths just a few inches from each other. Even now, with everything that's going on, I can feel the tension throbbing between us.

"I might be an asshole," he replies, his voice low, almost threatening. "But I'm not touching you right now. And I don't see you running anywhere."

I stare up at him for another moment, my heart pounding in my chest. And then, before I can think twice, I lean up and plant my lips against his.