Snapping Point

33.

He was relentless in seeking answers, regardless of the toll it took on the one he interrogated. Fine then. I'd give him what he wanted. I'd gather myself and let go of the painful emotions that reminded me of his foolishness. He wasn't worth the emotional chaos, the strain, or the anguish. None of it was worth sacrificing for him.

When I tried to speak, my words faltered, uncertain. I clamped my mouth shut. I swallowed hard. With a gentle nudge, I pushed his overbearing presence and the stifling heat he gave off, but my palm didn't get past the rigid mass of muscles. I needed to regain my composure, fighting the urge to give in to the unsettling feeling that I might just kiss him if he dared to inch any closer.

"Ivan's bringing in a chef for Lorenzi," I began, my gaze fixed on the ground, not bothering to gauge his interest first. "Les. She'll be the new mole, replacing Elsa after you took care of her."

I watched him roll his eyes. A surge of anger in my chest was conjured towards him. He was a bastard. Now he knew I was onto him for killing her, yet he remained silent. No explanations, no apologies for keeping me in the dark, nothing. Just a display of indifference that made me feel cornered and frustrated.

Romano hesitated, his foot hovering uncertainly in the air before he decided against taking the full step. It seemed he recognized that what lingered between us was nothing but bad decisions, intense emotions and reckless desires. "And what about the one before her? The one who tipped Ivan off about this." His finger gestured towards the charred remains of the former IP building. "I need a name I can follow up on."

"It was me," those direct words of mine made a frown crease his face. Yes, I had been the informant, even as he worked to ensure my safety.

I pressed on, my voice poor of concern, "I overheard your conversation with Morelli. I suppose you forgot I was upstairs that morning, witnessing from the window how he threatened your position with Amato's son, your own subordinate."

A steely look crossed his face in response to my cutting words. I luxuriated in the heavy silence that settled between us, proof that I'd struck a nerve.

So, all of a sudden, he couldn't yank my arm with that haunting intensity that I'd pray for the devil instead, thinking it would be kinder? He couldn't sling wicked and mocking words at me anymore? Too much of anything is toxic; he was already numbing me to his corrosive personality.

Trying to play the boss in this scenario was completely unwarranted. He clearly had a higher authority pulling his strings, and this his bossy behavior exposed him as someone who exploited the weak to validate himself after spending his days obediently following the orders of someone higher.

He stood firm, his attractive face a blank canvas. "Any other details I should be informed of?"

Oh, he was asking now? I had thought he only knew how to demand things and choke words out of people with his mordant conduct. Just like saying, "cough out more details" or "You either tell me or you're dead meat."

I was immune now, like I said. At least for now.

In fact, we weren't quite finished just yet. I gripped my jacket tightly and tried to take a step, but as I swayed to the side, I abandoned the attempt. I'd rather be in this devil's clutches than sprawled out on the ground for him to mock my embarrassing tumble.

That was his style—getting off on others' missteps. Sicko.

"Where are the fourteen women Ivan left for you to find?" I asked after a small breath to refocus my splitting gaze.

"That's my problem, not yours."

I smirked and brushed away the tears from my cheeks. Why on earth was I getting emotional over his strict and disrespectful comments? "Well, hate to spoil your day, Mr. Tough Guy, but you should be paying attention to it now." I even pointed harshly at him. Good. "You've got foreigners from various countries under your watch, with their passports, and you think you're not doing my uncle a favor?