Toni is bursting to talk when she walks in. She looks around and then parks her ass on a chair next to me and across from Alba.
“The things I’ve learned,” she proclaims, her eyes wide.
Alba pulls a face like she tasted vinegar. “Please tell me none of that includes Piero’s preference for boxers or briefs.”
Toni waves a hand. “Please, Piero would have a coronary if he ever got me naked. Anyway, so…Papà is calling an extraordinary board meeting next Friday.”
Seven days from now.
Alba’s spine snaps upright. “For what?”
Toni’s glance darts, as if she fears the walls might listen,ormaybe, and most probably, she’s just having too much fun playacting secret agent. “Succession.”
I almost drop my glass of Franciacorta. “What?”
“He plans to announce Fontana as a stabilizing choice,” she continues. “Frame it as continuity. A seamless transition.”
“Fontana is an asshole!” Alba shakes her head in disgust. “How can Papà be this stupid?”
“What about Nico?”
Toni’s jaw tightens, a line of steel. “He assumes Nico will either bend the knee…or walk away.”
I set my glass down. “He’s not firing Nico?”
Toni picks up my glass and takes a long sip of thesparkling wine. “He’s going to see how Nico reacts to the Fontana hire and then bring up the stuff he’s been compiling against him.”
I hate this.
My father is conspiring against my husband.
We are spying on our father.
The whole thing is enough to make you sick.
“So, if Nico makes a fuss, he’s going to ruin his career and reputation.”
Alba hisses under her breath. “Won’t be the first time he’s ruined a career. Papà does this so well it’s almost one of his top three skillsets, right after making money and making people feel like shit about their life choices.”
“What’s our plan of action now?” Toni looks from me to Alba and then back to me.
I make a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “I need to think.”
“Don’t take too long,” Alba warns.
“I won’t,” I assure her, because the truth is I’ve always known what to do—I just haven’t wanted to do it.
I think Alba knows this, maybe Toni as well. Papà may be the patriarch, but we’re the heirs of the House of Alighieri.
But Papà is overplaying his hand, and I have to decide when I’m done pretending I don’t know how to take his game apart.
38
ALESSIA
“You’re cooking for me?” I exclaim as I sit at the kitchen island, watching him move around the kitchen.
He flushes. Nico is cute when he’s flustered.
