Page 64 of Made in Love and Blood

“You don’t handle it?”

He tilted his head to the side, giving her a sly look. “The less hands I had on this money, the better. Now, Mr. Alan Craidel is the person you should contact for any large withdrawals or transfer of funds. There is no oversight or control in anyone’s hands but yours about what you do with this money, where you spend it, or how. He will, without bias, advise you of any options.”

How could someone just hand over nearly a billion dollars like that?

No questions asked.

“Frankie?”

She looked up to meet her father’s eyes. “Is that why you said all that other stuff—about me doing whatever, being whoever? Because you want me to take this money and run?”

“Yes and no. I want you to know how valuable you are, so when someone tries to put a price on your worth in any shape or form, you have over eight hundred million reasons why you get to decide if their opinion is worth hearing. If they are worth hearing. You are not the prize, Francesca. You are something far more. If the person looking you in the face doesn’t understand that, why should you waste your time?”

She sat the papers down on the middle console.

“Promise me, you’ll remember what I just said,” Salvatore murmured.

“I will. I promise.”

“Good, now—”

Frankie reached into the back floor of the rear seats to grab the bag Carina had given her earlier. She only meant to put the papers away for later, but she saw the way her father stiffened at the suggestion she would bring the bag to the front. She left it back there.

“Sorry, maybe I should keep it stored like Carina did, or...something,” she said lamely.

Salvatore made a noise under his breath. “No, I just see her when I see you. And I see the first time I saw her when I see that bag, standing in front of that café mural. I spent a long time trying to get those memories out of my head, I did horrible things to myself to make them go away. You wouldn’t believe.”

Once again, Frankie was left without an answer. “So, I shouldn’t pack it away?”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, saying only, “No.”

Shortly after, Salvatore exited the Rolls, leaving his quiet daughter behind to contemplate the true freedom that had just been sat in front of her. She tried to process it, toying with the keychains while her mind ran through eight hundred million options.

A knock on her window damn near made her hit the ceiling. She started the car to roll down the window and came face to face with a pleased grin that made her heart squeeze.

Nico peered around the interior. “All white, nice.”

“Yeah, he knows me too well,” she said.

“As dads should,” he agreed and he flashed a wider smile. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”

Frankie’s cheeks heated. “Thanks.”

“Ah, your gift is in the works, but—”

“You got me a birthday gift?”

“In the works,” he repeated, shrugging. “I had more free time lately, and a reason to look.”

“The free time was a reason?”

“No. You were.”

Again with her face.

She couldn’t stop the growing smile, either. “You know, I feel like you’re the first person I’ve talked to today that I didn’t cry with or over.”

“Crying on your birthday?”