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“What do you mean, you want to marry her?” he chokes out. “You’re not the marrying type, Dante, how many times have you told me that?”
I shrug. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. I want to honor my father’s wishes.”
Edgar sputters. “Well, you’ll have to have her consent, of course—”
“I’ll get it,” I say easily. “I’m meeting with Luca tonight.”
“Tonight? You want this handledtonight?” Edgar shuffles through the will. “Dante, the estate can’t be transferred to you right away—”
I wave a hand to dismiss him. “I don’t care about that. I just want the wheels turning on my marriage.”
Edgar just stares at me, looking shell-shocked. “Well...okay. I’ll handle all the paperwork when you get Miss Lorenzo’s consent.”
“Consider it done,” I say, sliding him a stack of cash that he quickly slides into a drawer. As uptight as Edgar is, he always gets the job done, and I have no doubt that he’ll have my father’s estate transferred to me soon.
“You’ll want a prenup, of course,” he says, and I shake my head. Edgar blanches. “Dante, trust me. Youwanta prenup. With your assets, plus now, your father’s estate—”
“I don’t need a prenup,” I say firmly, making my tone low and dangerous, and Edgar swallows hard.
“Fair enough,” he mumbles, trying to put the papers all in one folder. He’s nervous and trembling, and I understand, but I know what I am doing.
I stand up and clap a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be so nervous, Edgar. You’ll get it done. I trust you.”
“Yes,” he says dumbly, and I walk out of the office to prepare for my meeting with Luca Lorenzo.
Mia Lorenzo is too young for me. I have a vague memory of the last time I saw her. She’s not my type at all, too mousy, too flat, her legs too long. She was seventeen when I saved her from being caught in a crossfire, but four years won’t have made much of a difference, I’m sure.
Not that it matters. She’s just a means to an end, and that end will be Luca Lorenzo’s life. I can’t wait to hear him begging for his life as I aim the gun at the back of his head, the same way he did to my parents before pulling the trigger.
2
MIA
“Papa, I’m going out,” I announce, sliding on my heels.
My father comes to the door of his office, frowning at me. “Not tonight, Mia,” he says in a demanding voice that tells me I’m not going anywhere.
I deflate, finishing putting on my shoes, hoping against hope that something changes and I get to go out with my friends.
It’s my best friend’s birthday, and I really don’t want to miss her party.
“Why not?” I ask and I know there’s an edge to my voice. I don’t ask for much, I really don’t, and my father usually dotes on me, so I’m sure he has a very good reason for wanting to keep me home.
“Because we’re having company for dinner,” Papa says, gesturing for me to come into his office.”
I do as he says and I sit down in the chair across from the desk, huffing out a breath.
“Why do you need me there for a business dinner?” I ask.
“Because Dante Ricci has requested your presence.”
I sit straight up where I’d been slumping. “Dante? What could he want me there for?” I ask out loud, my heart beating too quickly in my chest.
“I don’t know, Mia. But he saved your life, you know? Plus, he just lost his father. We owe him at least a dinner.”
I nod, thinking that this might be better than any night out with my friends I could have imagined.
Dante Ricci is agodof a man, standing over a foot taller than my five-foot-two frame, broad shoulders, muscular back...these piercing hazel eyes and dark hair that he lets grow too long. I haven’t seen him, other than just in passing at events, since I was seventeen.
