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She glared at me. “I can’t write an article if I sign an NDA,” she said.
“There’s a clause in there allowing for a reasonable change of details,” I said. “I had my father put it in.”
“You two were in there making a contract for me?” she asked.
“The NDA is standard, the only change we made was to section four, clause six. Open it up and take a look. It basically says you can’t release any details about our family, but you’ll be allowed to write an article that reasonably hides our identities.”
She stared at me and shook her head in disbelief. “You’re really going to make me sign this?”
“If you want access, you’d better,” I said.
“Fuck that.” She tossed the envelope aside. “And fuck you, Vince. We had a deal.”
I clenched my jaw. That was exactly what I’d said to my father. But he made it clear that if I didn’t get her to sign, he’d send Roberto over to get the job done, and Roberto wouldn’t be kind about it.
My fucking piece of shit father.
He pretended to be a kind, hobbled old man. But there was ice water in his veins, and I knew he loved hurting people more than anything else in the world.
I stood up and finished my whiskey, throwing it back in one gulp. I slammed the glass down on the table then turned to face her.
“Sign the NDA,” I said. “Sign it before my father comes here with a fucking goon and makes you do it.”
“Oh, so now you’re threatening me?” She stood up, rage in her eyes.
“No, Mona, I’m trying to protect you,” I said. “My father wanted me to get rid of you. He wanted me to throw you out of the city and send you packing. Either that or put a bullet in your head and save him the trouble of paying you off.”
She stared at me, eyes wide. “What the fuck?”
“He hates journalists,” I said. “He thinks you know too much now. He thinks you’re a goddamn danger. So sign that NDA, make him happy, and we can move on with our lives.”
“This is bullshit,” she said. “I thought you trusted me. I thought we were trying to trust each other.”
“I do trust you,” I said. “And you’d better learn to trust me by signing that fucking piece of paper. It doesn’t change anything, but it makes my father feel better.”
She stared at me, her body shaking with rage. She turned, walked to the envelope, and grabbed it off the couch. She pulled the documents out and stared at them.
I took a pen from my jacket pocket and held it out.
She walked over, snatched it from me, and slammed the NDA down onto the table. She initialed each page, scrawling the letters big and angry, then signed her name and dated it on the very last page. When she was done, she threw the pen across the room.
“Happy?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “But my father will be and now you won’t end up dead or thrown out of the city.”
She shook her head. “You assholes,” she said. “You act like you care, but we both know you don’t.”
“Mona,” I said.
She turned away. “Whatever. Pretend like you’re better than he is, but we both know you’re not.” She stomped to the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”
I watch her head up and let out a breath.
Fuck. Well, that went about as well as I expected.
She had every right to be angry. Signing that document essentially gave my father every legal right over whatever article she ended up writing. Even if she ended up writing something reasonable and well within the bounds of the deal we set up, my father could still fuck her in the ass if he wanted.
I wouldn’t let that happen, but she had no reason to believe that.
My eyes drifted over to her shoes, still lying on the floor.
Goddamn. She was gorgeous. And ever sexier when she was pissed.
I smiled a little, gathered up the pages, and slipped them back into the envelope. I walked into the kitchen, refilled my drink, and leaned against the counter.
I took a long sip and tried to think about our next move.10MonaAbout fifty times that night, I thought about getting up and leaving.
There was no reason to stay. His father hated me, and if the Don of the crime family wanted me gone, then I’d be gone.
But now that I’d signed away all my rights, his father could tank me at any moment. Even if I wrote a perfect article, he could swoop in, tell me that it wasn’t perfect enough, and screw me over.
I was so angry with Vince. We had a deal, and he’d gone back on his deal and made me sign that bullshit. Now I had no power and no guarantee that anything would work out in my favor. I might put myself through all this, put myself in this danger, and still end up screwed and with nothing to show for it.
