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I jerked my focus back to him. “No.”
He held his ground for a second too long, then he casually picked up the pen and pulled the contract close. I’d already read it, already made sure it had everything in it I wanted. I'd already made friends and enemies with the wrong kinds of people and dragged Cosa Nostra Institute out of the dark ages and into the fucking light.
With one stroke of the pen and a sizable donation to the Commission, I was guaranteed a place in what was considered a men’s club only. Now they didn’t care about gender. Power was the only requirement, and right now, I feltfucking powerful.
“Here.” My father lifted the contract and stared into my eyes. “If this is really what you want.”
“It is.” I took the slip of paper from his hand, folded it, and tucked it into my clutch.
I knew he’d brush me aside at home. After all, he had no one watching. But here, with his office door open and, I was guessing, half the damn floor peering into the office, watching this battle play out, he couldn’t ignore me anymore.
“Thank you,” I forced the words through clenched teeth, and straightened.
My chest rose with deep breaths. He didn't move his gaze from mine, those piercing blue eyes that haunted me in my dreams. Others thought the gray-flecked hair made him took distinguished, softer even. They mistook the pretense. Because when it came to Sebastian VanHalen it was all pretense, wasn’t it?
Only a select few knew the danger that lurked in those icy blue eyes.
And none more than me.
Five million dollars had just been pledged to the Commission with the swipe of his hand. Five million, more than some could spend in a lifetime. But for him…that was play money. I took a step backwards and turned.
“Katerina.”
I froze at the use of my name and shivers raced across my skin.
“I’ll see you at home.”
I tried to keep myself from running, forcing my steps to slow as I strode through my father’s expansive office and into the hall. I didn’t stop, didn’t breathe, didn’tfeelanything until I stepped into the elevator and punched the button to close the door. A man stepped forward, taking a step into the car before I stopped him with a shake of my head. “This one’s full. Take the next one.”
“But…” he muttered, scowling.
My fingers shook as I stabbed the button again.
Desperation roared, screaming in my head.
Get out of here!
Get out of here!
GET OUT OF HERE!
6
Lazarus
Two months ago…
I stood in the corner of the fucking depressing room, desperate for the shadows to consume me. The place reeked of death and the decrepit. Faded, stained velvet sofas that were once red, and ancient wood furnishings made up the funeral home's wake room. It looked Mafia without even trying, like some reject prop from the goddamn Godfather movie. Fucking depressing. With each breath, I could feel the necrotic touch of this place seeping deeper into my lungs.
I didn’t want to be here…none of us did.
But here we fucking were, paying our damn respects. Respect. I wasn’t sure if the Salvatores deserved it. My gaze moved to Dad, dressed in a suit, talking to some schmuck with beady fucking eyes, one of Salvatore’s goons, without a doubt. They all looked the same, detached…unemotional. I found Finley Salvatore standing near the doorway. The poor bastard was goddamn gray, looking like he wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. I knew the feeling well.
“You should be standing with your father,” Gravel murmured. “You know, as a sign of solidarity.”
The beady-eyed fucker talking to Dad glanced my way for the third time and met my gaze. “Looks like he’s doing just fine without me,” I returned.
“FuckingRossi.”
