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“At least there will be something nice to look at. At the meeting, I mean.”
I frowned, staring at the photos on my desk. I stared at them for a long time. Even after Michael left.
I sat alone, drinking long into the night, the file open on my desk, her pictures where I could see them.
Chapter Four
Francesca
“I laid out your clothing, Frankie.”
I nodded absentmindedly at Maria, who had been my maid forever. She wasn’t really all that much older than me, maybe fifteen years at most, but she treated me like a daughter. I was lucky to have her.
“The white suit?” I asked needlessly. Maria knew what I needed before I did. I knew she would have chosen one of my power suits. And when it came to business, I always wore white.
I didn’t like distractions when it came to business. Especially today. Today, I would face the heads of the five families for the first time. Today, I would face him.
Vincent Margarelli. The man I had sworn to destroy. The same man I had known when we were just children.
I had heard rumors about him over the years, but I didn’t know the man he had grown into. He had been strong and steady, even as a little boy. But now, his reputation was as someone utterly ruthless when it came to business. Fair, but ruthless. A good man, or as good as you could be in our line of business.
And I had no choice but to take him down.
Maybe if I simply undermined them . . . destroyed their business . . . maybe it would be enough. Maybe I wouldn’t have to give the final order. Maybe they could move to Italy, run their wine business, and Philip would forget them, forget his endless need for revenge.
Then again, he wanted to take down their wine business, too.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. The legitimate businesses would be harder to tackle. The Margarellis’ illegal activities were few and far between these days. But that’s where I had started. I learned that by watching nature shows on TV. A lioness didn’t talk to the gazelle first. She went straight for the kill. The soft underbelly.
And she did it without the gazelle even realizing. Not until it was too late.
I was a lioness. I had to hunt. I had to protect my cub.
Hit them where they were vulnerable. Hit them where it hurt.
Maybe then I would get my little girl back. I had to believe he would keep his word. I had to do whatever was necessary to save my little girl.
Without hope of seeing her again, I would not be able to rise up in the morning. I would not be able to breathe. I was barely existing as it was, all these months with my baby kept from me. Hidden. Threatened.
Angelique deserved better. She deserved everything. She was the perfect child, so sweet and loving and kind. Nothing like me. Certainly nothing like the monster who had fathered her.
That was just an accident of biology. Or a miracle. She had been born with a soul, while her father, I was sure, had not.
Sometimes, I wondered where she got her goodness. She had so much of it. She was pure without being weak. Meanwhile, I was . . . not. And then I remembered being a little girl myself, wanting to do the right thing, before the business and life itself corrupted me. Even my ex may have been innocent once. Philip might be a monster, but he probably hadn’t started out like that either.
Then again, I had a feeling he’d been the kind of kid who pulled the wings off dragonflies. The bad seed. I just hadn’t seen it until it was too late.
But he had given me my daughter. I was grateful for that. Even though the pain of losing her was unbearable, I could never regret loving her. Knowing her. Living on the same planet just made it a better place.
I checked my phone again. Our agreement was that he would send me a photo of our daughter every day. A message. Sometimes a video. I needed it desperately today, even more than usual. I needed to see her. I needed a reminder that I had done at least one good thing in this world.
I was going to war, and I needed my battle armor. I could not reveal any chinks. Any weakness. I exhaled as a text came through with a ten-second clip of my daughter eating her breakfast. Cereal, I noted with a momentary eye roll. She loved her sweets. I made her wait until after school and homework for that sort of thing . . .
The tears came, but I couldn’t let them linger. I pushed the pain down. I used the anger that replaced it to fuel me.
