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A rush of humiliation swept through me, realizing Axel had known what I’d done before we’d even gotten together.
Axel continued. “Maybe I would have bowed out gracefully and moved on if you hadn’t fucked me over in other ways. But you did fuck me over—hard.”
I glanced to my father, unsure what other crimes he’d committed.
“Now it’s time to take the trash out,” Axel said. “And leave it behind a dumpster where it belongs.”
My father was so angry, but he didn’t say a word. His face was stretched tight, the cords in his neck straining so hard they looked like they might pop. The red flush to his face was the same color as when he’d drunk too much at a party, but his eyes had a vicious bite, like a rabid dog.
I knew the conversation was over.
Axel grabbed my wineglass and lifted it to Theo. “To new beginnings.”
Theo did the same. “To new beginnings.”
My father rose to his feet slowly, his eyes glued to Axel’s face.
I rose to my feet as well, assuming we were about to depart the most hostile conversation of my life.
My father reached for the inside of his jacket to grab his phone, but I knew that wasn’t his true aim.
I knew his anger was insurmountable. The rage boiled his blood and charred his logic. He was about to do something impulsive right now, something that would get him shot between the eyes. So I moved my hand to his arm and squeezed it.
My father paused before his eyes shifted to me.
“Let’s go home, Dad.” I continued my squeeze, needing him to remember that while his business meant everything to him, he meant everything to me. His choice would only end one way, and the satisfaction would only last a heartbeat. His last one.
He took a slow breath before he made the right decision and reached for his phone.
When we made it home, most of the men were gone, now on Theo’s payroll. Only a few remained, my father’s private security that had no ties to the business. It was raining, and my father left the car and walked through the rain at a slow pace, ignoring the umbrella that was offered to him.
I followed him, soaked almost instantly.
My father dropped into an armchair in front of the fireplace and sat there, his elbow propped, his fingertips resting against his temple.
I stood and watched him, knowing he was so absorbed in his thoughts he had no idea I was there.
Minutes passed before I took the seat beside him.
His eyes were glued to the fire, not really seeing it.
“I’m sorry.”
He gave no reaction, like he hadn’t heard me. “I should have listened to you.”
I studied the side of his face.
“I underestimated him.”
I had no words to console him. Nothing to make this better. “We both walked out of there alive and unharmed. You’ve earned more money than you can spend in a lifetime. We should be grateful this is how it ended.” Because it could have ended in a much worse way.
He said nothing.
“I think retirement will be good for you.”
“Men like me don’t retire, sweetheart.”
“Then we can do something else. Open up a restaurant. Get into the wine business?—”
“I spent my life building that business from the ground up. It contains my blood, sweat, and tears. A restaurant or a winery can’t replace what I lost, the power and respect that I earned. No, I’m not going to sell pasta.”
I shifted my gaze to the fire.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” His eyes remained on the fire, never looking at me. “But I just want to be alone right now.”
“Okay.” I rose to my feet and left the seating area. When I looked at him again, he hadn’t moved, remained parked in the armchair with his fingertips against his throbbing temple. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I thought better of it and left.
8
AXEL
A week had passed.
The business was fully transferred to our possession, and we moved the products and teams to our own fulfillment centers. I suspected Dante would retaliate in some way, but all had been quiet on that front.
It was a promising new business venture for Theo and me, bringing in more money than all of our investments put together. The men who once served Dante seemed happy with the change, because we choose to be cooperative rather than vindicative. Dante thought leadership was about barking orders to your inferiors, when in reality, it was about guiding your team to success.
Theo stopped by my place so we could go over the numbers together, with scotch and cigars to celebrate. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.” Theo tossed the sheet onto the coffee table. “He spent his life building this business, and we just—” he snapped his fingers “—took it like that. Fuck, that feels good.”
