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“You want this woman whether he’s dead or not. I should have guessed from the way you watched her head out of here. You want her, just take her.”
“I’d rather not have her kicking and screaming her way down the aisle. What I need is a good excuse for her to agree to this.”
“What’s her name?”
“Emma Rose.”
He digs out his cellphone and punches something in. “Rose? Rose? Where do I know that last name from?” He’s reading something on the screen. When he looks up he’s smiling. “Prepare to be happy, boss.”
“You got something?”
“Jonny Rose. Owes us fifty grand.”
I sit up straight. “Her father? That’s interesting.”
“I was going to send the boys to give him a visit. Break a couple of his legs for him. I’m guessing maybe you want things to play out differently now?”
“Tell him I’ll clear his debt in exchange for his signed approval that I marry his daughter.”
“Got it.” He climbs to his feet, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Anything else?”
“Get a crew to deal with the body. It’s the far end of the parking lot.”
He breathes in sharply, hip flask halfway to his mouth. “Hold up. Body? As in singular?”
I nod. “Yeah, so what?”
“Giuseppe’s got a brother. Antonio.”
“And?”
“They work together.”
I think of Emma home alone. “Get a crew out to Emma’s house. I want it watched tonight.”
“And what happens tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? You track down Antonio and make sure he’s not a threat. I tell Miss Rose that she’s marrying me, losing her virginity to me, and then giving me an heir.”
3
EMMA
I’m at the office before seven in the morning. I’m the only one here.
I’m busy fixing code when a shadow falls over my screen.
I spin around and find Adrian once again standing in the doorway. He’s back to how he usually looks. Immaculate black suit, crisp linen shirt in cream. Eyes I could drown in.
“Mr. Calderone,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, wondering how long he’s been standing there watching me. “What are you doing here this early?”
“Waiting for you,” he replies, his tone serious. “Come with me. We need to talk.”
I get to my feet and follow him to the meeting room down the corridor. He shuts the blinds on the way in, motioning for me to sit down. “Am I in trouble?” I ask.
He shakes his head, taking a seat on the far side of the table, facing me and the door. “When did you last speak to your father?”
Of all the things I thought he might say, I never imagined he might mention my father. “I haven’t spoken to him since I was fifteen.”
