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I kept my hands still and my expression neutral while Lorenzo served the drinks, then stood next to Giuseppe and Sergio.
“As I already eluded,” Franco began, “I have no intention to take over as the new head of the family. But I support Alessandro to take over this position. As the firstborn son, he’s a Moretti by blood; his rightful place has always been with this family. And he’s more than capable to lead the family and expand our power.” He locked eyes with me, and for the first time since we’d met, I felt the possibility of a bond—the possibility I could maybe trust him.
Fee trusted him.
Shit.
Don’t get distracted, numb nut.
I focused back on the men in the room. “Thank you, Franco,” I said, nodding gratefully. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
And then it all went south in a heartbeat. The flash of the knife in the dim light was the only warning before Sergio lunged at me with a snarl.
I rolled out of the way, dodging the attack but not fast enough. The blade sliced through the sleeve of my jacket—and my arm.
Fuck.
I shot back to my feet, grabbed his knife arm, and toppled over the back of the couch as we grappled for control.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins, as we both went down—the knife still between us.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized Franco had leapt into action, as well, fighting off Giuseppe—who was right behind Sergio, trying to get to me.
I could hear them fighting right next to me.
He was fighting his own people, having my back.
On my side.
Then Franco grunted—a sound almost inhumane.
I twisted the knife from Sergio’s grasp and rammed it into his hand, pinning him to the wooden floor, stared at his eyes as he fought the shock and the pain.
Then I turned to Franco and lifted the other man from him.
“Enough!” Vittorio’s voice thundered, and everybody froze, and the room went silent.
Blood dripped from my hands as I stood over Franco’s heaving chest. Then I turned and looked at Sergio, still sprawled on the floor.
Fuck.
I turned around.
Vittorio Moretti’s gaze swept the room, as cold and hard as steel, then he zeroed in on me—his expression stern.
“This situation is not beneficial to either the Falcone or Moretti family.”
I nodded. He was right. This was a stupid idea from the start. Why did I even agree to Franco’s crazy plan? Was taking over really this desirable? Was having power worth it?
Why was I wasting my time with politics and power struggles when, in reality, all I really needed was to have Fee at my back and riding on my bike into the sunset with me.
My arm throbbed like a bitch, but for the first time since entering the room, I felt a flicker of hope.
I didn’t need this.
Didn’t need the power, or the control. It wouldn’t mean a thing anyway if it meant I would have to do it all alone. Well, not all alone.
I side-eyed Franco. “Are you okay?”
