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EIGHT
REBECCA
Everything looked foreignin my office on Monday. Somewhere within these walls, a deal was made to sell a date rape drug. I thought I’d been in control. For months, I’d held up this entire company, listening to my father do nothing but cough at his desk and vomit in his private bathroom from his treatments. To keep everyone in the dark, he’d paid extra to receive them after hours at a secret location, just outside the city.
At my insistence, his secretary started sending all his calls to me and Leah-Anne, my godsend of an assistant. Older, no-nonsense, and fiercely loyal, Leah-Anne made Gil and Vale go pale at times the way she interrogated my callers.
Between the three of them, I felt insulated. Protected, while I devised a way to take down Sunrise. Under my father’s nose. He lingered in his office all morning with the door closed.
When a stunning woman with ice-blonde hair stood in my doorway wearing a cherry-red pants suit, I gasped.
Standing, I glanced past the woman and worried when I didn’t see Leah-Anne at her desk. I’d seen enough movies to fear I’d been ambushed. I rushed to the door, expecting to see my assistant laying on the floor. No. She was just...gone.
That insulated feeling melted away in a flash when neither Vale nor Gil was in my span of vision. Fear clawed at me when the door to my private bathroom opened, but I let go of my breath. Gil. He sauntered out, zipping his fly. I quickly snapped my fingers and when he saw the strange woman, he pulled his gun.
“What have you done with my assistant?” I said to the woman who shuddered, staring down the barrel of my guard’s heat. “Who the hell are you?”
Smirking, her fear was short-lived as she set her shoulders back and closed the door.
My heart pounded violently in my chest. So this is how I will die.
“Answer Miss Domenico,” Gil ordered, and with his gun still drawn, he pushed the woman against my office door.
Whoever sent a blonde bombshell was smart. She probably got past security with just a wink.
“You have nothing to fear from me. I assure you.” She turned her head toward Gil, a smile curling her lips. “Frisk me if you want.”
I blushed, watching Gil run his hands all over this woman.
“She’s clean. Purse,” he demanded from her.
Rolling her eyes, she tossed it to him. “Here.”
Gil yanked it open and exhaled. “No weapon.”
“Miss Domenico.” She reached her hand out to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Between the pat-down and being in your presence, I’m shaking. Feel.” She wore a massive emerald ring trimmed in diamonds on her middle finger.
I’d read too many fantasy novels lately and knew villains hid lethal poison in the most unsuspecting places. “I believe you.” Stepping back, I planted both feet, cursing I wore such high heels if I had to run or dive behind my desk. “There are cameras in here, sweetheart.” Unless someone disabled them to hide the attempted hit on my life. Shit. “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”
“I’m a friend of a friend, here with an invitation.”
“Really.” Nodding, I sat back at my desk, my fingers sliding along the center drawer to grip the gun Vale had fastened underneath. You never know.
“Go on,” I said, curious who would send such a beautiful woman to me. And not my father...
The woman reached out to Gil for her purse. He handed it back to her with a stern warning on his firmly set lips.
A pearl-colored vellum envelope slid from her Louis Vuitton bag. The gold LV on the flap glinted in the sunlight coming in from my window overlooking the New York Stock Exchange and the Canyon of Heroes. That image of ticker-tape parades put the challenge to stop Sunrise in its proper perspective. Failure wasn’t an option.
“I will need your reply before I leave,” the woman said confidently.
“Are you kidding me?” I whisked the envelope from her. “What rich friend of my father has a spoiled heiress getting married that they paid for personal hand-delivered invitations?”
The woman smiled. “Is that a thing?” She stood there, so tall and statuesque, her beauty almost hard to look at. This was New York though, filled with breathless models and actresses. Most of whom had gone to bed with Anthony.
Pig.
I choked for a moment, fearing this was an invitation to my own wedding. One I never agreed to.
It makes sense for us to be together. You and me.
My name was on it, but it only said:
Rebecca Domenico, your presence is requested this Thursday at 555 West Houston Street. Ten p.m.
I didn’t know anyone who’d get married on a Thursday night at ten p.m. On West Houston Street, no less. And not let me bring a date. Not that I had anyone to bring as a date.
Sebastien...
My heart pounded, and I stared up at the woman. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated, then slid a glance at my bodyguard. “Alicia.”
“Who is this from?” I asked, waving the invitation.
“It’s a surprise,” she answered with a sneaky smile on red lips that matched her suit.
I tossed the envelope and card on my desk. “Pass. I’m too busy for games and too important for surprises. Besides, my guards will never let me into just any old place without checking it out.”
She bit her lip in frustration. “No guards. I told...”
“Who is this?” I waved the card again.
“All I can say is...” She breathed. “Semper Amici.”
I gasped. That could be Sebastien. Or Anthony. Or... Seriously? Julian? Not Giancarlo because he didn’t go to school with us.
All men I’d be safe with. Sort of.
Unless it was a trap. Had word already gotten out that Sunrise was going down? There were people out there who would take me hostage to keep that from happening. Men who’d try to break me into submission to remind me this was a man’s game.
“Sorry. No can do.”
Alicia stared at me. “Just this once, your guards can escort you inside. Once you see who has invited you, they must leave.”
I wouldn’t bring both my guards inside. “Give me your last name. I’m not going anywhere until I have you checked out.”
“Sorry.” She stood and smoothed her perfectly creased pants. “I’ll probably receive a verbal lashing for failing to convince you. Loss of some business. The person who invited you is my best-paying client.”
I rapped my nails on my desk. Client? What kind of business could this sleek, beautiful woman be involved with? “Wait.”
What would my father do if he received some obscure invite? He’d scoff and go in guns blazing. In his youth, anyway. He was thirty when the Biancos fell apart from their own dynastic war that led to Gian’s grandfather and grandmother being gunned down. Dad had filled that vacuum fast. And not by being safe or hiding in our family home on Long Island surrounded by guards 24/7.
Perhaps this was a test. To show if I had the grit to rule the kingdom my father was leaving behind. Or this was a message. No woman could rule New York. Especially one not willing to take risks.
If powerful people thought that, I was as good as dead. No specially printed vellum invitation that could be traced would prevent that.
This could also be Sebastien. My heart ached, thinking that seeing me and touching me the other night cracked his veneer. Changed his mind about whatever fucking stupid reason he had for breaking up with me.
I had to be brave.
“Fine. Yes. But I bring my guard and he leaves when I tell him to leave.”
“See you Thursday, Miss Domenico.” The woman walked out and smiled at Leah-Ann, who had returned to her desk with a coffee.
I needed to get my shit together. It was going to be a long forty-five days.
*
