“Rafe Cordeau has disappeared, is presumed dead, and that has left a vacuum in the business world—a world you don’t yet understand, Siena.” With a sigh, her grandfather smoothed back her hair and returned to his seat. “Our world is made up of great danger. You know that. My son and your mother. Lost to me. To us. You nearly taken twice. I had to move to protect us. Elijah Lospostos is a man who would take what is not his.”

A low growl rumbled in Paolo’s chest. Her gaze jumped to him. She was fearful, in spite of the fact that she still wanted to rip his face off. In spite of her defiance and the famous Arnotto temper he had aroused in her. She didn’t want him to hit her again. Or kick her. She already hurt enough, and truthfully, she was afraid of him and what he might do to her.

“You used me. Not only to target Elijah, but four other of our friends, men I knew from the time I was a small child. You’re right, Nonno, I don’t understand this world, nor do I want to.” She lifted her head and stared him straight in the eye. “This man”—her hand swept toward Paolo—“this man punched me with his fists. He kicked me in the ribs with his shoes. He hurt me, and you do not punish him, you do not even reprimand him, and in failing to do that, you condone what he did. You speak of a marriage between us . . .” There was total contempt in her voice. “You show me I don’t have your protection or his.”

“You do not understand. After your marriage . . .”

She glanced at Paolo, her arm once more sweeping out, her hand shaking. “This is the man you want me to marry? Seriously? A man who would do this to me? You approve of him and his behavior?”

Her grandfather’s gaze softened and he shook his head. “Paolo is headstrong. Passionate. He didn’t want you to go to the house of Lospostos, but I insisted. He knew better. He knew you were close . . .”

“Close? Close to what? What I’m close to doing, Nonno, is leaving and never coming back.”

Paolo moved then, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet as if he would stop her. Her grandfather held up his hand, and Paolo froze in place.

“This is not your fault, Siena,” Antonio said softly, his voice weary. He pushed his hand through his hair. “Forgive an old fool for his egotistical leanings. I wanted to send a message to my enemies and I used you to do it. This isn’t Paolo’s fault either. He warned me but I didn’t listen to him.”