I trusted him. My whole family trusted him. He stood in that hospital room holding my mother’s hand while my father lay in a coma, and the whole time it was him who put him there.
My vision goes all fuzzy again. I breathe through the nausea until it passes.
When I open my eyes, Vincenzo walks toward me.
“The drug was supposed to keep you asleep for longer.” He almost sounds impressed. “But that’s not surprising. You always were a stubborn one.”
“Untie me.” My voice comes out rough and thick, barely recognizable even to me.
“I can’t do that.” He pulls up a chair and sinks into it. His eyes are dark and heavy with exhaustion as he stares at his phone.
“Why?” I manage. “You already told me about my father and about Riccardo. But this? Handing me over to the Kozlovs? Tell me why you’re doing it.”
“Because it’s the only play left.” He leans back against the chair. “When Eamon approached me, it was supposed to be a clean transfer of power. Your father dies at the gala. You refuse to take over because everyone knew you never wanted this. The organization folds into a new alliance, and I finally get what I deserve. What your father never gave me.”
“But my father didn’t die.”
“No. And then you surprised everyone.” A flicker of respect glows in his eyes. “You stepped up, convinced the capos you belonged in this role, and turned out to be exactly the leader your father always said you could be.”
“So this is punishment? Because I didn’t fail?”
“This is adaptation.” He glances toward the door. “Eamon’s son was supposed to gain your trust and position himself to take control. Instead, he fell in love with you.”
My chest tightens at the words. Because it’s true. Lochlan fell in love with me. And I fell in love with him. Against every instinct.
And he was keeping secrets the whole time.
“Lochlan…” I say, my throat tight, knotted with tears that I refuse to let flow.
“Loves you. As far as I can tell, anyway.” Vincenzo shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter now.”
Before I can respond, the door at the far end of the space opens, and Eamon Molloy walks in like he owns the place.
He looks exactly like he did this morning when he stood in Lochlan’s office and tried to blackmail his own son. The memory makes my stomach flip and clench. Or maybe that’s still the drugs.
“Adriana.” He stops a few feet away, his hands behind his back. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”
“I wish you’d drop dead,” I sneer.
“Charming.” He glances at Vincenzo. “Any issues?”
“She woke up early. But no, we haven’t had issues.”
Eamon turns back to me with his cold, calculating eyes.They’re nothing like Lochlan’s. It’s almost impossible to believe they actually share DNA.
“I want you to understand something,” he says. “None of this had to happen. If you had stepped aside and let Lochlan and me handle things while you enjoyed your position, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Are you fucking insane? You really expected me to hand over my family’s empire?”
“I expected you to know your place,” he says, his voice patient, like I’m slow on the uptake and he’s being generous by explaining the details of his sick and twisted plan. “Women in your position have two options. Fight against reality and lose everything. Or accept it, enjoy the protection, and let the people who understand this world handle things.”
I almost laugh. Almost. “You mean I should have let you steal what my father built.”
“I mean you should have let me save it.” His eyes crackle into blue ice. “Francesco is a relic. The old ways are dying. The Kozlov Bratva understands that. Together, we’ll control the eastern seaboard within five years.”
“You sold out my father to the Russians.”
“No, I formed an alliance.” He paces in front of me. Each step is slow and deliberate, like he’s a professor giving a lecture. “They have resources neither the Molloys nor DiMichelis could match alone. This is the future, Adriana. You just refused to see it. So now you won’t.”
