Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,22

that one day she would come out of the woodwork and explain where she’d been the last decade. Somewhere glamorous, of course. She would have amassed her own wealth somehow, and jet back into the city in a flashy sports car, her smile as charming as ever. Always bold, she’d seek me out without giving a damn about the rift between us.

Then she’d cajole her way back into my life, and things would go on as they used to be. When I felt like I had an ally outside of the carefully constructed world of Roy Pavalos.

But our friendship, much like everything else in my life, was nothing more than a well-crafted lie.

“Did you hear me?” He advances a step that has me sucking in a breath and jumping back before I can help it.

“D-Do you want my help or not?” I demand.

But then I make the mistake of looking up.

He hasn’t been fucking Alexi—or if he has, their session was light enough that his hair has maintained the same shape our impromptu shower left it in—gently tousled around his shoulders.

He’s left his chest bare, opting to wear only a pair of black slacks that don’t look as though they’ve been hastily rebuttoned.

Not that I take comfort in the realization. Whether he’s fucking Alexi or not is neither here nor there. All that matters is getting the leverage required to make him act on his word.

“Help,” he echoes, his eyes flashing. For a second, I fear that I’ve misunderstood him all this time. Or that he’s already grown bored of pretending to see me as anything more than a toy. “I don’t remember asking for your help, Ada-Maria. I asked for answers.”

A subtle warning that he won’t accept anything but a concrete location when it comes to finding Pia’s body.

Luckily for me, I think I may have an idea.

With his presence serving as a reminder of the threat looming over my head, I return my attention to the diary pages, this time seeing them clearly.

I’m on the right month, but the wrong day. Absently I flip toward the back of the diary, only to find that the week abruptly ends.

But not where it should.

I keep searching, scanning the remaining pages over and over until I notice a faint strip of ragged edges lining the binding.

“Some of the pages are missing,” I blurt, raising my head to find Domino staring.

Rather than smug, or defensive, he looks… Confused. “If this is your way of trying to manipulate the situation, I would warn you to rethink that plan.”

“I’m not. Look—” I shove the open book across the cabinet’s glass surface.

Warily, he approaches, inspecting the journal himself. He frowns.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, recalling his vague answer the first time I asked this very question.

“Let’s just say I found it,” he says, still tracing the ragged edges of the pages. I know just from his clouded expression that he didn’t realize they were missing at all. Which means they were torn out before he received it.

“Did you take it from my father?” I prod.

It’s the most likely choice. After all, I personally gave him this diary, and I can attest that those remaining pages were there, though I barely remember what exactly they said.

I just know how angry they made me. How furious—enough so that I gave the journal to my father with no guilt.

At least, not then.

“Did you?” I ask when Domino doesn’t reply.

His frown has deepened, his expression more guarded than ever. Finally, he sighs. “I got that book years before I even started working for Don Roy.”

Some of my excitement deflates, replaced by even more confusion. “I… I don’t understand.”

“It’s the truth,” he counters. “But don’t expect me to go on a wild goose chase, either.” He takes a step in my direction, reinforcing the dangerous boundary between us. Captor and captive. “You’ve already read it, haven’t you? So what the hell are you looking for?”

I ignore the question to phrase one of my own. “Did you read it?”

But he already confessed that he has.

“Then you know damn well that I wasn’t lying. She was sleeping with my father.”

And he knew that all along. It’s why he started this vendetta against my family in the first place. Revenge.

But, again, his expression doesn’t match. Instead of smug, he just looks cold. Impassive. Stone.

“I knew she was fucking someone,” he says. “But nowhere in that journal does she write the name Roy. You know whose name she does write? Over and