“Me too.”
“I don’t want to lose you to this world. I already lost Dad.”
“You’re not losing me. Ever.” I squeeze back. “And Dad is going to wake up.”
Luna and I take turns pacing the length of the waiting room.
My mother and Vincenzo come out of the chapel around seven-thirty. Mom looks like she’s aged ten years overnight. Her eyes are swollen and puffy, her gown wrinkled. The bloodstains on the silk have turned a dark, rusty brown. But her spine is straight and she holds her head up high.
DiMicheli women don’t slouch. Not even in the face of carnage.
Vincenzo is still in his dress shirt from the gala, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the blood now dried stiff into the fabric. He looks exhausted. Streaks of purple shadow the undersides of his eyes, and stubble covers his jaw. But when his gaze lands on me, his face softens.
“Adriana.” He pulls me in for a hug, the scent of incense clinging to his clothes and skin. “How’s your father?”
“Stable.”
“Good. Stable is good.” He motions for me to step away from Mom and Luna. “We need to talk. Not about the contract. About what comes next for your father’s business.”
“Now?”
“I’m afraid it can’t wait,bella mia.”He glances at my mother, who gives a small, tired nod. “I’ve gotten messages from some of the men. Word of the attack has spread. Your father’s captains are going to start asking questions. Some of them will use this as an opportunity to make a power grab. And the Russians…” He shakes his head and presses his fingers to his temples. “I’m afraid they will try to turn our men against us, making us even weaker.”
My stomach drops. He’s right. I know he’s right. I’ve run my company long enough to know that you jump at opportunities when your competition is most vulnerable. You can get the bestdeals when the opposition is crumbling — people, goods, services, territories. Everything is fair game.
And by all accounts, we are crumbling.
Vincenzo’s voice drops. “And your cousin Riccardo has been running his mouth since last night telling anyone who’ll listen that Francesco’s finished.” His lips pull together in a tight line. “I understand that your father took him under his wing when his brother died, but someone needs to wire that kid’s mouth shut,” he grumbles.
Riccardo. Of course. My cousin has always had more ambition than common sense and a mouth that writes checks his brain can’t cash. The only reason why he’s still alive to spout off bullshit is because of my father’s influence.
“Someone needs to step up,” Vincenzo says. “Someone the men will respect. Someone with the DiMicheli name who can walk into a room and make them believe everything is under control.” He pauses. “Even if it isn’t.”
He lets that hang in the air. My mother and Luna both look at me.
And I get it. I’m the CEO. I’m the one who’s spent twenty-two years proving she can lead. I’m the eldest daughter. The one with the DiMicheli name and a reputation for not backing down.
They’re all scared. Rightfully so. My father’s fate could easily become theirs.
Jesus, this is insane. I run a consulting firm, not a crime family. But the alternative is watching everything my father built get torn apart while he lies unconscious in that bed.
Blood rushes between my ears, my heartbeat hammering against my ribcage.
I have no choice.
“I’ll do it,” I say, the words echoing in the small space. They come out before I can second-guess them. They reverberate against the walls, amplifying in my ears. Making my reality… well,real.
“Until Dad wakes up. I’ll hold things together.”
A look of relief flickers across Vincenzo’s face, gratitude in his smile.
“Of course,” he says. “I’ll put a meeting together for this afternoon. We’ll go through it all. Step by step. I will be by your side through it all,bella mia.”
“And the Molloys?” Mom asks.
Vincenzo’s jaw sets. “Eamon will push for a quick timeline on the wedding. He wants this alliance locked down before anyone else makes a move.”
“He’ll get his timeline when I’m ready to give it to him,” I say. “Not before.”
