She didn’t look away from Barry or react to his vile statement. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Cella would have been turned over to his men after Barry was done with her. She was certain he’d done that very same thing to countless other women. They feared him too much to ever testify against him in court.

“I would have taken you in front of her. Her baby sister, so sacred, yet you gave yourself to the highest bidder at the first opportunity. I should have offered you money. You’re a slut just like all the rest of them, aren’t you? You’d do anything for money.”

She lifted her chin. “You know better than that, don’t you, Barry? You know Stefano will come for me because he loves me, that’s what you’re counting on. The fact that he loves me. And he loves Emme. You don’t have that and there’s a part of you that hates everyone because you don’t. You’re not capable of real love, Barry. You’re just not. You’ll never know what Stefano has. I love him unconditionally. With everything I am and I’d do anything for him. What woman will ever give that to you? You pay these men to be loyal. They aren’t loyal out of love. You trick women and then you throw them away because you can’t feel anything. Ever. I’m sorry for you.”

As she talked his face reddened, the stain spreading across the swollen bruises. “I’m not the one sitting in a chair, tied up like a fucking turkey, dessert for the men after they kill Stefano Ferraro.”

“He’s hard to kill,” she said softly. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? You have ten men inside this house, maybe more. You have another dozen outside. What does that say to your crew and me? You’re terrified of Stefano.” She leaned closer to him, her gaze steady on his. “And you should be.”

“He’s going to find his sister and you the center of attention. That should distract him just a little if he has such love for you both.” He sneered at the word love.

She didn’t answer him. Just watched him and prayed Emmanuelle wouldn’t draw attention to herself. If she did, Barry would do something terrible. She felt the hatred pouring off of him every time he made a reference to Stefano. More, he was just a little insane. There was something very scary in his eyes.

Thunder roared outside, close, shaking the house, rattling the windows. The lights flickered again and went out, the room going dark. Barry swore. “What the hell?”

“The generator will kick in, boss,” George assured. “Give it a minute.”

There was a short silence. Francesca could hear Barry’s labored breathing. He was much more afraid of Stefano than he wanted anyone to believe. When the lights flickered back on, dim and yellow, casting shadows all over the room, she could see sweat beaded on Barry’s face.

“I want you two guarding the door,” Barry instructed, waving his hand at Marc and Jimmy.

“I’ve got a score to settle with that little bitch,” Marc said, indicating Emmanuelle with a chin lift.

“Yeah, boss, his balls are swollen,” Harold said gleefully. “She dropped him twice. Smashed his face. With her hands tied.”

“Little thing like that and he’s not man enough to handle her.” Arnold took up the taunt.

“Shut the fuck up,” Marc raged. “I’ll show you I can handle her.”

“Get out and guard the door. Do it now before I put a bullet in your head. I said you’d have your chance at her, all of you, and I meant it. Her fucking brother will come. He’ll want to look like the brave hero for his fiancée. I want you waiting for him. Kill him on sight.” As he issued the order, Barry kept his gaze fixed on Francesca’s face.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Inside, her heart stuttered dangerously, but she didn’t give any visible sign that she was in any way worried. She wasn’t about to give him that kind of satisfaction.

“You’re so sure he’ll save you,” Barry said bitterly. “Maybe it will be too late and he’ll come in here and find your throat cut.” He stepped close to her and shoved a knife against her throat, the blade biting in.

She didn’t pull back. “Like this hasn’t been done a million times to me already, Barry. You need new material.” Francesca forced boredom into her voice. She even gave a slight yawn. “My first week or two here in Chicago, I had this happen to me twice.”

“You want new material?” Barry snarled. He pulled the blade away from her throat, his yellow slits for eyes reddening along with his face. “You want to see new material?” he repeated, his voice swinging out of control. High-pitched. Insane even. He gripped the knife in his fist and brought it down hard into her thigh.