Aidan
"Please don't kill me. What do you want from me?"
"Don't panic. You're safe as long as you cooperate with us."
The dim light from the bulb casts shadows on the man's face as Leo removes the mask covering the man's face.
"What do you want from me?" the man asks, shivering.
"What is your relationship with Mrs. Gratis?" Leo presses.
"I was just the gardener, that's all! I swear, there's nothing more," he says quickly, his voice trembling. But his words come too easily—I can tell he's lying.
"How did a 'common gardener' manage to afford a luxurious condo in the most expensive estate?" Leo asks, arching an eyebrow. "Hmm…suspicious, don't you think?"
"I swear it's not mine! Please, it was a gift… no, it belongs to a friend. I'm only borrowing it for a while." He stammers, his voice breaking.
"And that friend is Mrs. Gratis?" Leo's tone grows colder.
"Yes… I mean, no." Sweat beads on his forehead as he squirms under Leo's scrutiny.
"That's a lie. Why are you trying to protect her? Do you think she would give a damn about you if I decided to end your life here?"
"No… sir… please don't do that. I swear I'm telling the truth!" he stammers, looking desperate.
"Fine, I'll give you two options. You either tell the truth and walk free—with some money—or you keep lying, and we leave you here to die. Pick your choice." Leo pulls out his gun, setting it against the man's head, finger poised over the trigger.
"Please! I'll tell the truth! Please don't kill me!" he begs, tears streaming down his cheeks.
I can't help but chuckle softly. First, the gun isn't loaded. Second, I already know about his connection to my wife's stepmother. I just need him to confirm it.
"We were lovers in the past, but I swear there's nothing going on between us anymore. Please, spare my life," he cries. Good—this is right where I want him.
"And the children?" Leo asks, his voice edged with menace.
"They're mine. Both of them," he admits quickly, as if he fears Leo will pull the trigger if he doesn't answer fast enough.
Click. The empty gun makes a hollow sound as Leo and I burst out laughing at the man's terrified expression.
"If you value your life, you'll do whatever I tell you to," Leo says, still chuckling.
"Yes, sir! I'll do it," the man cuts in, eager to agree before Leo can finish.
"I like the enthusiasm. Now, here's the plan: you're going to make a video about what you just told us and post it online. Don't worry about it going viral—we'll handle that part. Your only job is to make and post the video. Once it's done, you'll get paid."
"Consider it done, sir!" he says quickly.
"And if you even think about backing out, the next time this gun touches your head, it'll be loaded. And I guarantee I won't listen to your pleas then."
Leo pulls the mask back over his face. We need to escort him out without him knowing where he's been taken.
Piece by piece, the puzzle is coming together. I have a theory that Mrs. Gratis killed her husband so her son could inherit his wealth before he ever gets to know that the son isn't his. As for Kazia, she was purposely sent away from her home so she wouldn't be aware of what's happening. If she's not around, how could she ever know?
But I still need to dig further into my wife's stepmother and how she might be linked to her father's death.
What I have now should be enough to solve the "Special Home" acquisition issue troubling my wife, though. She's Anthony's only biological daughter, so technically, all his properties should be hers.
…
Women! I've left these ladies here hours ago, and they're still not done shopping.
"Mr. Armani?" I hear my name called, but I don't look up because I'm supposed to be deaf, after all. I only look when Leo taps me.
"You should come to the fitting room. Your wife wants your opinion on her clothes," the assistant says, and Leo signs her words to me.
I nod and follow her into the fitting room. I'm taken aback by what I see—she's not trying on regular clothes. She's modeling sexy lingerie.
"How is it?" she signs, looking at me expectantly.
I nearly speak aloud, almost blurting out how beautiful she looks. Damn, this woman is going to be the end of me.
I give her a thumbs up with a smile.
"Thumbs up for the ones you like, and thumbs down for the ones you don't," she signs. I nod, excited. I think I should really get Jules that yacht she's always wanted. I'll put that on my to-do list.
"Do you think my husband will like this?" I hear her ask the assistant outside the changing room. Wait—I thought I was the one choosing! Why does she need validation from the shopping assistant?
"He will definitely love it, ma'am," the assistant replies. Then my wife walks back in, wearing a lace lingerie set. My eyes light up, and I can't help but blush. She must notice my reaction because her cheeks turn red, and she tucks her hair behind her ear.
"So…?" she mutters, meeting my gaze. Oh, right—I'm supposed to give my verdict.
I give her a thumbs up, along with my biggest, brightest smile. Lace lingerie is now officially my favorite piece of clothing.
She walks away, and I can't see much of her from behind because her long, waist-length hair covers her back. I want to brush it aside, but I hold back. I'll save that for later.
"My husband likes this one. Please keep it with the rest," she tells the assistant, and I can't help but smile. She really does love calling me her husband. Soon enough, I'll be able to call her my wife too.
"How's it going?" I hear Jules's voice, the mastermind behind this whole display.
"I think he likes them," my wife replies. Think? I love them. They can keep them coming as far as I'm concerned.
She comes back in again, and I keep giving each piece a thumbs up because she looks incredibly sexy in every one.
I don't know how long I've been watching this parade of lingerie, but I know that if it continues, I might lose control and take her right here. But I want our first time to be in my bed, where the memory will stay with me every time I sleep and wake, not in a public fitting room.
When she comes back in once more, I tap my watch to signal her that we need to get going. Her face falls with a hint of disappointment, and I immediately regret it.