Stone's Revenge, page 18
“And that’s why you want ownership of the vineyard?”
“Yes.”
I gasp. My brunch sours in my stomach. Stone has fooled me. I never believed he was a dashing prince, but I hadn’t believed he was as corrupt as my father. I move as far away from him as I can, hugging the door. “I thought you were better than him.”
Tears fill my eyes. I traded one devil for another, and I don’t know which is worse.
“Having full access to his property will give me what I need to expose him and end the trafficking.”
The weight in my stomach lifts. Once again, I curse myself for putting him in the same category as Lorenzo. He’s really a hero disguised as an asshole. No, he’s still an asshole, but he isn’t evil. I gaze out the window and sigh. “So it’s true.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I had my suspicions. Mother had them. She threatened to expose my father.”
“Which was when he beat her, and then you two ran away.”
I turn to face him. “Yes.”
“It’ll be over soon.”
I want him to reach out and squeeze my hand. Touch my shoulder. Hug me. Kiss me. Instead, he stares at his phone. I open my hand, still clutching the ring, and slide it over my third finger.
I’m not so naïve as to believe he only wants to release the girls and his revenge will be complete. There’s more he plans to do, and quite frankly, I’d rather be ignorant to the rest of it. Admitting I wouldn’t care if he killed my father or Antonio Rossi would make me an accomplice to murder. Not something I want weighing on me for the rest of my life.
We take a helicopter and land on the Parisi property. It hasn't changed much in the years I’ve been gone. I think of all that is lost, all that has been taken from me, but worse, the young lives who are ruined because of my father.
Panic rises in my throat. I don’t have time to deal with it. Marco, Tio, and Stone get out of the helicopter. Stone offers his hand to me, but I freeze. I begin to shake.
“Gia,” he shouts over the loud blades of the helicopter. I feel his hands on my hips as he sets me on the ground and tugs me away.
The helicopter’s blades slow and the hysteria builds. I’m going to have a full-fledged panic attack, ruining whatever plan Stone has for his revenge. He’s going to free the girls. I try to calm myself with that knowledge, but my breath quickens. I’m gasping for air. Tears fill my eyes.
“Gia.” His hands are on my shoulders. They cup my face, forcing me to look at him. “Breathe. In and out. Slowly. Take your time. You can do it. Look at me. Look at me, Gia.”
I listen to his words and reach out, holding onto his forearms. I focus on his eyes, on his lips. They’re moving, speaking soft words, calming words. I don’t hear them, but I feel him. Feel his hands on me. Feel the comfort. Feel the support.
I lean into him and close my eyes, mentally bringing myself to a safer place.
Stone’s arms.
They come around me and I bury my face into his chest. I hear him murmuring in my ear, but I have no idea what he is saying. His hands run up and down my back, soothing me. I have no idea how long we stand like that, how long it takes me to regain some sense of normalcy.
Finally, I have enough strength to look at him. In my high heels, we’re nearly eye level. I tilt my head. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t rush it. The longer we take, the angrier Lorenzo will be.” The corner of his mouth lifts in an evil grin. “The angrier he is, the easier it will be to rile him up and cause him to slip.”
I chuckle. “And here I thought you were coming to my rescue. Really, it’s all for show.”
“It’s all a show,” he says, only I see something flicker in his eyes, like he doesn’t really believe what he says. “Ready?”
I nod and hide my shock when his fingers skim down my arm and he takes my hand in his. A united front, we pretend to be. Lorenzo’s men are at the door of the house waiting for us. I don’t recognize any of them. I have small hopes of seeing my bodyguard, Sonny, again.
I fear he’s been found out. If that is the case, I’ll never see him again. I swallow and squeeze Stone’s hand as we’re led through the familiar halls of my childhood home.
No, it was never a home. A prison. I feel more at home at Stone’s house.
Here, I was never allowed to be myself. Educated by tutors, never seen or spoken to. I was locked in a cage and treated like an inmate instead of a daughter.
I accused Stone more than once of treating me and his men like animals. Maybe he had at times, but it was better than a prisoner. When we enter the conference room off Lorenzo’s office, I feel Stone’s hand flinch in mine. I glance at his profile.
He shows no reaction. No emotion. On outward appearances, it’s as if he expects the meeting to bore him completely. Only I can feel the tension in his hand. The rest of his body is relaxed.
“Callista. It’s true. You’re alive.”
“It’s Gia. Or you can call me Mrs. Parlatore.”
Stone strokes his thumb across the back of my hand before releasing it and pulling out a chair for me. I take it and cross my legs, sitting up straight, hoping Lorenzo can’t see how fast my heart is racing.
My father has aged significantly. He’s always been a big, robust man, but he’s put on more weight, his hair has thinned and turned more salt and less pepper. There’s no love lost between us. We never had a relationship. Unless you count mutual hatred.
Another man enters the room and sits next to Lorenzo.
Antonio. At fifteen years my senior, he’s always looked old to me, but he too has aged significantly since I left. He still has a full head of dark hair, his eyes a cold, hard black, and a slimy smile that always makes me want to throw up.
He isn’t fit like Stone but isn’t as big as my father either. Somewhere in between. He grins at me, and my skin feels like worms are suddenly snaking their way up and down my arms. “You look beautiful as always, Callista.”
“It’s Mrs. Parlatore,” Stone says. “And you don’t have permission to speak to her.”
Shit. Not even ten seconds into the meeting and Stone is already out of character.
Antonio laughs. “I don’t suppose she has permission to speak unless you allow as well? With a wife as beautiful as her, you must keep her leash incredibly short. I don’t blame you one bit.”
Stone flinches. I react without thinking. “Unlike you, my husband doesn’t need a leash to keep a woman.”
Lorenzo interrupts. “Enough. We’re here to discuss business.” He introduces three other men at the table. Their names are unfamiliar to me. I still don’t understand what the meeting is about.
“I’ll be facilitating the meeting, Parisi,” Stone says, leaning forward and setting a briefcase on the table. He pulls out five files and passes them around the table. “As you can see, Mrs. Gia Parlatore, formally known as Callista Parisi, owns thirty percent of the shares. I own twenty-one percent. Together, we have control over Parisi Wines.”
“That’s bullshit,” Lorenzo exclaims, slamming his fists on the table. “None of my shareholders own that much.”
“Not until recently. You’ll note I’ve acquired those shares over the past eighteen months.”
“Callista doesn’t have access to her thirty percent.”
“Not while you presumed her dead, no. A death certificate was never filed, thus leaving the shares in her name. In our name.”
“They’re not in your name, Parlatore,” Antonio says. “You own twenty-one percent. You have no say here.”
“And your fourteen percent gives you the right to absolutely nothing.” Stone takes out another paper and slides copies across the table. “My wife signed her shares over to me as a wedding gift. This puts me in control of the company and gives me the right to access all the files and the grounds, including your estate since you list it as a business expense and not a private home.”
The color drains from Lorenzo’s face. “Everyone out. Now.” The silent partners get up and leave. “You too, Antonio.”
Antonio sputters something, whispering harshly in Lorenzo’s ear. Lorenzo keeps his razor-sharp glare on Stone, who returns it in kind.
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” I say to him.
“You. Out as well.” Lorenzo turns his glare to me.
My heart lurches in my throat. While being trapped in a room with Lorenzo gives me anxiety, being on the other side of the door, without Stone and with Antonio, will set me in another panic attack.
“My wife stays.”
“She goes.”
“I’m in charge here and I say she stays.”
I want to kiss him, for so many reasons. I blink back the tears that threaten to spill and roll my shoulders back feigning confidence.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Lorenzo says, leaning against the table. “Has the little puttana been hiding in your bed all these years? Is that why we couldn’t find her?”
I want to fight back. To yell at Lorenzo, but I stay quiet and let Stone take control.
“Watch yourself around my wife, Parisi.”
“Your wife.” He laughs, spittle coming from his lips. “I’m her father. She is legally bound to marry Antonio. She’ll file an annulment then you won’t have ownership anymore.”
“This isn’t the eighteenth century. You can’t legally bind anyone to marriage.”
“She will marry him, or you’ll find yourself regretting the day you fucked her.”
“You’re in no position to make threats.”
“You’re just like your father.” Lorenzo scowls.
“I take that as a compliment.”
Lorenzo grinds his teeth and narrows his eyes at Stone. “He tried to betray me and look where it got him. You think fucking my daughter is payback for him? For your sister? Tell me.” He sneers at me before smiling evilly at Stone. “Does she scream out in pain like your little sister? Or does she beg for more like your mother?”
No. My god. Lorenzo was the one who killed his family. And raped them. My heartbeat pounds in my chest, and I feel my body temperature rise from the rage I have burning inside. I want to cry for Stone and stab Lorenzo in the chest and watch the blood drain out of his body.
I’ve never thought about killing anyone, not even my father, but if given the opportunity, I would in a heartbeat. I hate Lorenzo on so many levels, not only for the pain he caused Mama and me but for the pure torturous evil he’s inflicted on Stone’s family.
Minutes go by without Stone moving or uttering a word.
“Does your little puttana of a wife know the real you? Does she know how you like to rip apart little girls’ virginity?”
“Hey, asshole,” I finally say, moving the attention from Stone, giving him time to formulate whatever words or actions he has planned.
Lorenzo snaps his head toward me. “What did you just say?”
The courage I find inside doesn’t come from the clothing or expensive shoes. Those I had when I was a prisoner in Lorenzo’s home. The strength and power I feel within come from the man sitting next to me.
Even though Stone stripped most of my freedoms away from me, he never stripped my humanity. He never made me weak and powerless. Instead, I have more confidence than I ever have before.
“I called you an asshole, but you know what? That’s an insult to all assholes out there. You’re the devil who is going to rot in Hell when we’re done with you. Your reputation as a successful vintner is over. But you don’t care about that, do you?”
I rise to my feet and place my hands on the table, leaning over and showing him I’m not afraid of him. Because I’m not. I have Stone by my side.
“We’re going to take you down piece by piece, exposing all your dirty secrets.”
“Lots of talk for a pretty little puttana.”
“A pretty little whore who escaped from your Hell eight years ago. Curious what I’ve been up to? All the secrets I brought with me? All the people I’ve told? Stone and I aren’t going into this blind. We’re a team. An unstoppable team. You.” I jab the air. “Are. Going. Down.”
Stone stands next to me, his hand on my lower back showing support and not pulling me away from my fight. A fight he told me not to get involved in. “I hope my wife has made a good first impression on you, Parisi. In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve learned never to get in her way, and that she fights for what she loves and believes in. It’s the only legacy you passed on to her.”
Lorenzo leans back in his chair, sweat visible across his forehead. “Where’s your mother?” he finally says.
“You killed her,” I say before crossing to the door. Antonio is pressed up against it. “Spineless, dickless, rat.” I spit in his face and march down the hall, wishing I had a knife in my hand so I could plunge it into his gut. I take two steps before Stone is there by my side, his fingers threaded through mine.
My heart breaks so hard for him right now. The helicopter is waiting for us, and we take off with only the sound of the blades filling the air. We ride in the limo in silence, and I let Stone go as we get back to the house.
I thought I would be the one needing comfort after the visit, but it’s Stone who has lost the most. Now I understand why he’s filled with so much rage.
Why he fights evil with evil.
Why the thought of having sex with a virgin haunts him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I eat dinner in the kitchen with Maria. She doesn’t ask about my quick honeymoon or why Stone came home three days before me. She doesn’t comment on my sour mood as I push around the asparagus and salmon on my plate.
“Is there anything special I can make for you this week, Gia?” she asks as she kneads dough.
I watch the steady rhythm of her pressing the heels of her palms into the dough, turning it over, and doing it again. She’s so efficient in the kitchen. We had a live-in cook growing up as well, and Mama used to help her until Lorenzo banned her from consorting with the staff.
I've learned to cook a few things over the years, but with a limited budget and hectic work schedule, my repertoire is limited.
“Will you teach me how to make bread?”
Maria pauses and looks at me with surprise. “You want to learn to make bread?”
I nod. “And manicotti. Maybe some seafood dishes as well.”
She smiles. “I’d love to. If you’re done poking at your dinner, you might as well start now.”
I push my plate aside and go to the sink to wash my hands. I join her in front of the white marble counter.
“Hold on.” She leaves the kitchen and returns shortly with an apron. “We can’t have you mussing up your clothes.”
I want to tell her my ten-dollar shirt and twelve-dollar shorts can weather the storm of a little flour. I don’t say anything and let her tie the apron, liking too much how she mothers me. She can never replace my mother, but she’s a nice stand-in while we’re apart.
“You want to put your weight into it, not that you have much.”
I watch as she goes through the motions, then gives me the mound of dough to work with. I find it therapeutic as I work the dough with my hands. “How do you know when you’ve kneaded it enough?”
Maria taps her temple. “A good baker just knows.”
“Holding those secrets tight, are you?” I tease, bumping her with my hip. “You know what’s missing?”
She furrows her brow as if I’ve insulted her.
“Music. There’s gotta be a state-of-the-art audio system hooked up in this house.”
“Not in here. I have a small portable radio in my room that I can get.”
“Yes. You do that. I’ll talk to Stone about installing something in here.”
She leaves to retrieve her radio and I scan the kitchen. It’s something out of a magazine with its expansive island and stunning cabinetry. The window overlooks the vineyard, and on the other end of the room is a set of glass doors that lead to a patio.
The outdoor built-in grilling system is state of the art, and I wonder how often Stone uses it. He isn’t the type to have backyard barbecues, but the outside is set up to host one.
Maria returns with the radio and plugs it in behind me. Soft, classic Italian music flows from it.
“I respect our heritage, Maria, I really do, but if we’re going to have fun in here, we need something a little more upbeat.” I brush my hands on my apron and turn the dial until I find an American station playing pop music. “It’s good for dancing.”
“I thought we were cooking, not dancing.” Maria laughs.
“I’m an excellent multi-tasker.” I dance in front of her, making her laugh, then return to the dough. “Knead to the music. It’s fun.” I over-exaggerate my moves and sing along to Fall Out Boy.
She isn’t familiar with the music but bops around to the beat. Time passes and we’ve made three loaves of bread before she shows me how to make cinnamon rolls.
“I can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow. We haven’t even put them in the oven yet and they already smell heavenly.”
I give her a hug and thank her for the lessons, then retreat to my room. I haven’t seen Stone since we returned home earlier this afternoon. He’s good at hiding, and I’m not about to go hunt for him. Once in my room, I call up Mama on my tablet, and we talk until she yawns and says she needs a nap.
I toss and turn all night, unable to sleep.
Playing in the kitchen with Maria has been a good distraction from the emotional afternoon. Alone in my dark room, I replay the events of the day.
The panic attack that came on as soon as my feet touched the property I spent the first eighteen years of my life on. The comfort of Stone’s arms around me. His calming voice.
He stopped my panic attack from completely taking over. There was no judgment or disappointment in his eyes. His only concern had been to help me. Sure, he can be an arrogant asshole, but he has a heart. A heart he likes to keep hidden, but it’s there.
When he took my hand in his, I nearly fainted. Not from the panic attack. Not from the fear of facing my father. But from the show of affection. At the time, I didn’t know why he worked so hard to put on a stoic persona, why he hid his heart from the world.
