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His fists clench. “No?”
“I gave Charles my word.”
“That promise puts a price on your fucking head.”
“I’m a thirty-five-year-old widow. I’m not a threat. The Lincolns know I don’t want their livelihood. Once they meet the conditions Charles set for them, everything will be theirs.”
“You’re not a threat?” he spits. “You’re consigliera to the biggest corporation in Chicago. You’re smarter than this. What are you thinking?” Every word is said through gritted teeth, and I long to roll my eyes at the theatrics of it all, but I refrain.
My temper flares, and I grind my teeth. “I married an eighty-year-old billionaire for the family. I was twenty-four. I gave over ten years of my life to that marriage, and I did it dutifully.” Salvatore doesn’t need to know the level of duty I succumbed to. In the end, it doesn’t matter. I found myself while being owned by a man, which is something I struggle to accept every single day. “Charles wanted me to look out for his sons. Maybe in a way they can’t make sense of yet, but I will grant him that wish. He made me promise I wouldn’t fold to the pressure of his sons on his death. I plan to keep my promise.”
“They could kill you.”
I scoff. “CJ and his brothers are not murderers. They might not live in the confines of the law, but they’re not stupid enough to attempt to kill a consigliera. Their whole empire would crash under your wrath.”
“Why are you telling me, then, if you’ve already made your decision?”
“CJ might not be dangerous, but I know he’ll attempt to manipulate the situation. I’m warning you in case he tries to use your influence.”
His eyes narrow. “He can’t be stupid enough to think I can influence any decision you make.”
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Salvatore, I might not back down to every little demand you make of me and I may not be afraid to go head-to-head in a heated argument with you like most others are, but don’t insult me by acting as though you don’t control my life to some degree.”
Shame hits him harder than I expected it to.
“Relax,” I say. “You’re not my puppet master, but you know as well as I do that I sacrifice more for the family than most because I was born with a vagina.”
He looks around the room purposely.
“A few years in prison is not the same as becoming thewifeof a man who is old enough to be your grandfather.”
He reads well enough between the lines, and I let him believe the lie.
“I didn’t realize it was a competition.”
“It’s not, but I will not fold on this, Salvatore, and I expect you to stand by me. As my brother and my boss.”
He stares at me long enough that I think he’s going to reject me, but finally, he drops his chin once in acquiescence, and I let go of a panicked breath.
“Caterina…” I change the subject. “Is she pretty?”
He shrugs. “I have no idea. Caruso sent over her file, thinking I’d care one way or the other. I don’t. I don’t plan on having any relationship with the girl. It’s business and nothing more.”
“More bizarre things have happened than falling in love with the person you were contracted to marry.”
The severe lines on his face ease, and he laughs. “Jesus, Alessia, what romance bullshit have you been reading? Give meoneperson you know who is genuinely in love. It doesn’t exist in our world. You should know that better than anyone.”
My shoulders deflate because he’s right, but I lie when I say, “I still hold out hope that Caterina Rossi will bring a spark of color to all your gray.”
“If she sparkles, I think you need to accept that my storm clouds will dull her shine easier than she’ll part them to release the sun.”
CHAPTERTHREE
DIEGO
