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“It wasn’t like that,” I reply, stepping past him to head to my room.
“My plans don’t involve him.”
I turn to face him. “Perhaps they should. He’s always hated Stefano. He could be an ally.”
“Don’t be blinded,tesoro. He may hate Stefano, but his loyalty lies with him.”
“Why did you bother asking me to come home if you aren’t going to let me help you? I thought you wanted to make a move against Stefano. This is how you do it. With Salvatore’s help. You can’t take him down alone.”
His jaw clenches, nostrils flare. “I know what the fuck I’m doing, Milana. This is a chess game. It takes calculated moves and risks. Stefano is an intelligent man. I cannot win the game if he knows my next move.”
I don’t even know his next move. Invite them to dinner again? Serve him steak and lobster next time?
“I understand,” I lie. “When you need me, I will do whatever it takes.”
He brushes his hand across my cheek. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
The look in his eyes is soulless. Not like the man who raised me. Who threatened to end the first boy who broke my heart. Who was present at every softball game. This man is different. I’m afraid to know what he has planned. Afraid it’s going to turn my world upside down, and I’ll never be able to set it right.
“Padre?”
“It’s late,tesoro.”
No more discussion. No more explanation. Just like that, when I have so many unanswered questions. What’s your next move? What role do I play? When will this be over?
“Good night,Padre.”
I find solace in my bedroom. When I left for college, my parents kept it the same?my books, clothes, and things. Of course, my style and book preferences have changed. I no longer wear crop tops and baggy jeans. My fictional crushes don’t include Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. I much prefer the villains now. The morally gray alpha males who demand what they want and take it, no apologies. Men like Salvatore Moretti.
12
Salvatore
Icasually glance at my watch, annoyed my father is late. He set the damn meeting and doesn’t even bother to show up. Meanwhile, Gilligan Arnold is fuming.
“His thumbs, Salvatore! You took my son’s thumbs!”
“He owed a debt. The debt is now settled,” I reply calmly.
“You said you would be different from your old man.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “This conversation is not taking place here.”
Not in my father’s home where I’m sure he’s listening to every fucking word and watching everything we do. Stefano Moretti is always one step ahead. Riccardo won’t make a move because my father will see it coming ten thousand miles away.
Me, though? He’s been blind to the fact that I’m gunning for his seat. He may say he’ll relinquish it to me one day, but there will never be a day he’ll willingly step down. Doesn’t matter how many thumbs I lop off.
“You made promises, and you treated my son like he was nothing.”
Slowly, I rise from my seat and approach him. “I’m a man of my word, Mr. Arnold. When I say I’ll slice your jugular with that letter opener, you should believe me.”
His face pales. He swallows hard. Without daring to utter another sound, he nods and sees himself out. I exhale, running a hand through my hair. That asshole could have ruined everything.
“Wow, you look stressed.”
Milana stands at the door, a half smile on her beautiful face. I didn’t even hear her come in.
“And you lookbellissima.”
