Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I unlocked the deadbolt, and a jingle surprised me as I pulled the door open. Nick must have installed the bell that morning. I gestured for the detective to come inside.
“I’m Detective Daniels. Are you Cameron Bellini?”
“I am. What’s this about?”
“I have a few questions connected to an incident that happened last night.”
Keep it together. “An incident?”
“Yes, a suspicious house fire.”
Not a double homicide here at the bakery? Thank fuck. I gestured toward a table. “Would you like to have a seat?”
He accepted the offer, and I joined him.
“Mr. Bellini, are you familiar with the Marchesi family?”
I could play this cool. I had to. “I went to school with a few Marchesis.”
“Including a man who goes by the name Devil?”
“Yes.”
“Were you friends with them?”
I had definitely not been their friend in high school. “No. The school was small. I knew everyone’s name, but we weren’t friends.”
“Are you friends now?” Would I cross this line? Would I lie to the police to save Angelo and his family?
“I’ve run into Devil a few times since I moved back to Boston, but I wouldn’t say we were friends.”
The lie came out so easily. And I knew I would tell more if I had to. Angelo had saved my life last night. He’d fulfilled all his promises to me. He’d never damaged me, never hurt me in any way I didn’t enjoy—twisted as that might be—and he protected me. Now it was my turn to protect him, and if doing so meant I was as much of a criminal as his family, then it was time to let go of the last of my assumptions about being morally superior to him. Love mattered so much more.
“What about Angelo Marchesi?” the detective asked. “Are you friends with him?”
“We’re acquainted.”
“Based on reports from others I’ve talked to, you’re rather well acquainted. Do you still deny that you’re friends?”
“You don’t have to be friends with a person to sleep with them.”
“Well, no. I suppose you don’t. Are you sleeping with Mr. Marchesi?
“I am.”
The detective nodded. “I see. And can you tell me where you were last night Mr. Bellini?”
“In bed with Angelo.” There was no way back for me now. Everything else I’d said had been a nuance of the truth. Now I was no longer being evasive or playing word games. I was straight up fucking lying to the police to give Angelo an alibi.
“And his brother? And his cousin?”
“I’m not sleeping with them too if that’s what you’re asking.” The detective raised his brows. “They were also home.”
“If you were engaged in intimate activities with Angelo Marchesi then how do you know that?”
“Let me be more specific. Angelo, Devil, and Lucien were all home until at least twelve thirty last night.” I remembered Sabrina mentioning she went down a bit after midnight and heard them, so any crimes they committed would have been finished well before then.
“You’re certain about this?”
I nodded. “Very.” I was certain I’d been wrong to make assumptions about Angelo—not about what he did but about who he was inside. I’d been wrong to draw stark lines dividing the world into good and evil. I’d known plenty of people far worse than Angelo who had never committed a felony. And I was certain that no matter how coldly and efficiently Angelo could kill, he could also love warmly. And he fucked like nobody else. I wanted him. I wanted to be part of his life.
The detective pulled something out of his pocket and held it out for me to see. It was an evidence bag holding a ring, one of the ones Angelo and Devil had been given when they’d turned sixteen. My pulse sped up, and I had to focus hard on keeping my expression neutral. “Have you ever seen this before?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t look familiar.”
“Really?”
“I don’t pay a lot of attention to jewelry.” I leaned forward like I was studying it closely. “No, I don’t recognize it.”
“You see this?” He pointed to the detailed design of an angel and a devil. “I think this ring belongs to Devil or Angelo Marchesi.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. We don’t talk about jewelry when we’re together.”
“Mr. Bellini, do I need to remind you of the penalty for obstructing justice and lying to a police officer?”
“Have you ever had a fuck buddy, Detective?” I couldn’t believe I’d really said that, but I had to force a change of subject.
He scowled. “I think you know that’s not a question I’m going to answer.”
“Then hypothetically speaking, do you think you’d pay a lot of attention to details about rings or other accessories when you were together?”
“I notice things.”
Of course he did. “You’re a detective. I’m a baker. If one of the Marchesis made me an amazing focaccia or an award-winning tiramisu, I’d remember it. But a ring? I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about it.”