I’m last to walk into the cafeteria, and the dread in my gut gets heavier with each step toward the table they’re gathered around.
Maria and her daughters sit on one side of the table. Vincenzo stands next to Maria, giving off protector vibes. Not that he’s any match for Eamon Molloy. My father and Ronan sit, but I stand instead. I don’t want to be anywhere near my family for this conversation, and I’m sure as hell not on their side.
“Tell us about the contract, Eamon.” Maria’s voice is steady, but I can hear the strain beneath it. “Francesco never mentioned anything about it.”
“I’m sure he was waiting for the right moment.” My father spreads his hands out on the table. I lift an eyebrow. Jesus. Is anyone really fooled by his bullshit attempt to soothe and sympathize? “Unfortunately, circumstances have forced our hand.”
“Don’t patronize me.” Maria’s chin lifts. Yep. I thought she was a smart one. “I’ve been married to that man for forty-three years. If there was a contract?—”
“There is. We both signed a year ago. It was witnessed and notarized.”
Vincenzo’s eyes fly open wide. “Francesco never said anything to me, either. And as his second in command, in this type of a traumatic situation, I can’t see how a contract can possibly be binding.”
“I understand your concern.” My father nods. “But the very fact that Francesco is unable to speak to it makes it an even more urgent discussion. When Francesco and I formalized our alliance in the face of a new Russian threat, we agreed that in the event of incapacitation or death of either head of family, our houses would be united permanently.”
“United how?” Luna demands. Her voice echoes, sharp with disbelief.
My father smiles, and my stomach drops.
Oh, shit. Here it comes.
“Through marriage. Francesco’s eldest daughter to my son.”
Luna slaps her hands against the tabletop. “You’re joking.”
She looks around the room, waiting for someone to tell her she’s right.
“You can’t be serious,” she presses. “This isn’t the Middle Ages. You can’t just… justarrangea marriage like we’re property to be traded.”
All the color has dripped from Maria’s face. “Why wasn’t I told about any of this?” she rasps.
“I’m sure Francesco thought he was protecting you,” my father says. “Protecting all of you. The threats have been escalating over the past year. This alliance was meant to ensure everyone’s safety. It gives us each access to the others’ resources and territories so that we can protect what we’ve both built.”
I watch Adriana through all of this. She hasn’t said a word since we walked in here. She just sits there, arms crossed, watching my father like she’s plotting his murder.
There’s something magnetic about her. The stillness. The control. The way she refuses to give my father the reaction he’s looking for. Most people crumble under Eamon Molloy’s icy stare. She doesn’t. She’s calm and calculating. Emotionless in the face of adversity.
It’s fucking hot as hell.
When she finally speaks, her voice is flat.
“Which son?”
My father’s eyes slide to me, and I feel the trap snap shut.
Fuck me. My gut clenches. That son of a bitch. Is he seriously going to?—?
“The contract specifies my second eldest son.”
Every head in the room turns toward me. I take it all in while my brain processes the words I just heard. My father nods at me, satisfaction etched into his expression. Ronan’s eyes fire off bitter hatred. Maria presses her fingers to her temples. Luna’s jaw drops. Vincenzo shakes his head and lets out a defeated sigh.
And Adriana.
Her eyes narrow at me, lips pulled into a tight line.
“You,” she says. Not a question.
“Me.”
