Her breath left her lungs in a long rush. “To play the whore? To be a slut? You didn’t? You just send me to your friends, men who have been at our dinner table, to distract them so Marco can slip into their home and murder them. You raised me to assist a murderer. All those rumors, Nonno, all those rumors about you are true, aren’t they?”

There was a long silence. Her grandfather exchanged a long look with Paolo.

“Siena.” He whispered her name, for the first time looking his age.

Her stomach lurched. She’d been holding out hope that there was some other explanation, but she read the truth there. She saw it in his eyes. In the way he looked at her. In the exchange with Paolo.

“He missed, Nonno. Marco is dead, and Elijah knows you tried to have him killed. In fact, he was waiting for it. He knows about the others.” She kept her gaze on her grandfather, but she was fully aware of Paolo watching her closely. She forced her lungs to keep breathing, although every breath she took hurt.

The others. Their friends. She still held out hope, even though she knew better. She didn’t want to be a part of killing their friends. Friends who had laughed with her, believed she was simply visiting. They were glad. Grateful. She actually felt dirt coating her skin, grinding into her pores, making her ugly and filthy. Her own grandfather had used her to kill his friends.

“I have enemies, Siena,” her grandfather said softly. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to her, leaning down to tip her face up to his.

She tried to jerk away, not wanting to feel his touch. Not wanting to be any part of him. Of his world. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He caught her chin firmly, murmuring soothingly in Italian to her. His thumb touched one of the cuts on her face and he turned to look at Paolo. This time, the censure was there. Paolo glanced at the floor, managing to look ashamed.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, Tonio,” Paolo said. “For a moment, I lost control.”

Paolo hadn’t apologized. He hadn’t lost control, not in the way he meant. She wouldn’t forget what he’d said to her. His threat. She could be an adored wife or his slut, and he would treat her according to her choice.