"Busy," he replied. "But I wanted a moment of your time."
"I don't understand, Mr. De Luca."
His lips curled up in amusement. "Oh, I think you will."
He nodded toward the large screen on the far wall on our right.
The lights dimmed. The screen flickered to life.
And then—
I watched my husband, Lorenzo Ricci, with Seraphina Marone, play out my worst nightmare.
My hands trembled. My entire world shattered at that point.
Santino watched me with unsettling calm. "Now, do you understand, Mrs. Ricci?"
"Why are you showing me this?" I swallowed, a gulp forming in my throat.
"Because," He said smoothly, setting down his glass, "I can tell you everything. If you're willing to make a trade."
"A trade?" I stiffened.
"A favor," he clarified. "Nothing now. But one day, when I come to collect, you won't refuse me."
I took a shaky breath, I couldn't trust him. "I don't make blind trades."
Santino smirked as if he had expected that answer. "Suit yourself."
He slid a piece of paper across the table.
"That's my personal contact," He said, staring directly into my eyes, "Call me when you change your mind."