She shifted her weight onto one leg and narrowed her eyes. She looked like she was about to say something smart, but then her expression changed, like she knew this was serious. Like she knew not to fuck with me on this. She nodded.

I walked over to the liquor cabinet and found a bottle of unopened whiskey. I took it and found a glass. She followed me into the kitchen, where I turned on the gurgling tap and waited until the water ran clear before rinsing the glass. I filled it halfway with the liquor. I held it out to her.

She hesitated but then took it and sipped, squeezing her eyes shut. I guessed it scorched the back of her throat. She then handed it back. I drank a long swallow and refilled the glass, appreciating the burn. Salvatore had good taste.

“Can I have a proper shower?”

I nodded and finished the glass, then led the way upstairs to Lucia’s old room.

“Who’s room was this?” she asked, eyeing the abandoned makeup, the lipstick on the vanity with its lid off, the discarded pair of shoes lying beside the bed.

“My brother’s wife’s room.”

She looked at me, confused.

“It was my brother’s house. He left it seven years ago. I took it over.”

She searched my face, my eyes. Had she heard the story of the Benedetti brothers? Of how the one almost killed the other? No one knew what transpired that night, at least as far as the why of it. No one knew the secret Franco had told. No one but those who were here. As far as the mafia world was concerned, Dominic Benedetti was alive and well and had left after a family argument.

“Bathroom’s in there. You’ll have to deal with the dust. I need to make a call. Do I need to lock you in the bedroom, or will you stay put?”

“Lock me in?” She rested her hands on her hips, and her eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

I nodded. I didn’t have time to deal with her right now. I needed to make a call. I needed to find out where Roman stood.

“I’ll stay,” she said, her tone irritated. “And I want this off,” she pointed to the collar.

“Maybe we need to revisit some things.” I went to her, took her by the collar, and walked her backward until her back hit the wall. She pressed against my chest, but I pulled upward, forcing her chin up. Her eyes went wide, angry but also fearful, like they’d looked in the cabin.

“You’re still mine, you’re still owned. When I took you out of the cabin, I stole you from Victor Scava. I did not release you. You do not give orders. You obey them. Understand?”