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“No?” Luis grins. It’s an unsettling expression. “That’s strange. I thought my intentions for Miss Furnari were clear when you and I negotiated the continuedprotectionfor your gallery.”
I gasp.
Isaiah’s eyes fly to mine. I see the guilt in their depths. "You have to understand, Cat. I didn’t have a choice.”
Of course, he did.
I’m sure Luis made threats—threats that rattled the upper-class gallery owner in a way he never expected. After all, Isaiah has no connection to the criminal families in the city. Not like myself. But regardless of whatever Luis threatened, Isaiah still had a choice in whether or not he complied with the deranged man. He could’ve gone to the police. Or he could’ve sought out my father for help. Instead, he opted to go along with whatever Luis demanded. All to protect his precious gallery.
I stare at the man I once considered a friend with open disdain.
Luis laughs. “Ah, I heard you were a docile one, Catarina Furnari. I’m pleased to see that’s not the case.”
My glare moves onto him. I want to smack the smile off his face. “I won’t marry you.”
His happy expression doesn’t falter. “Oh, but I think you will.”
My eyes narrow at the confidence in his voice. “Why?”
“Because it’s the only way to save your family.”
“How so?”
He motions to someone behind me. Gomez crosses the room and hands Luis a manila folder. The gang leader holds it out to me without looking inside. “Take a look.”
I reach forward and snatch the folder from his grasp. Careful not to look away from the men in front of me for too long, I glance down at the pages in my hands repeatedly. It takes several looks to understand what I’m seeing.
My jaw falls open as I take in the crime scene photos that are an exact copy of the ones I retrieved from my father’s office. Only, these include Antony’s corpse.
Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it back and turn to the next photo only to find it’s a document from the NYPD. My frown deepens as I read, and my confusion grows. This paper says there is a mole in my father’s organization trying to uncover our involvement in a sex trafficking ring.
It can’t be true, but the police commissioner’s signature sits at the bottom of the page, authorizing funds to go to the mole in return for actionable information.
My thoughts run a mile a minute. I think of Cynthia upstairs and the bruises on her body. There’s no way my father would be involved in a sex trafficking ring. Not only because it is morally abhorrent, but because it’s not the family business. Our money is made by legitimate means these days. There might be some instances of questionable activity to bypass red tape to get deals done quickly, but the business is above board for the most part.
So why would the police think he’s involved in a trafficking ring? And who is the mole feeding them this false information?
Question after question pops up in my head, leaving me more confused with each passing second. I’m shaking my head, trying to think how best to respond to this latest accusation, when a voice I wish I didn’t recognize says, “Don’t tell me I’m late. I came as soon as I could get away.”
I stiffen and watch Myles saunter into the room. He wears slacks and a white button-down shirt. His characteristic smirk tugs on his infuriating mouth as we make eye contact. “Catarina, looking lovely as always.”
I want to scream. I knew Myles was scum, but now there’s proof he’s nothing more than an ambitious traitor.
I look away from the tall blond without saying a word. From the corner of my eye, I see Myles bristle at my silent dismissal.
Luis chuckles. “You are not late, MacKenzie. Though, I’m not certain my bride wants you here.”
“I’m not your bride.”
Luis’s smile finally falls. The men in the room shuffle their feet at the tense silence that follows, but I keep my chin level with the ground and stare down the man who murdered Ashley in front of me.
“I don’t care what evidence you think you have against my family, or what you think you can threaten me with to force me to comply, but I won’t,” I declare, proud of the strength in the words despite the fear and unease swirling in my gut. “I’m tired of men trying to move me around like a chess piece in their stupid grasps for power. So, either let me go or lock me up. Either way, this situation isn’t going to end the way you want. I can promise you that.”
Luis tucks his hands in his pocket and cocks his head to the side as he observes me. “What a pretty speech from someone who has no power. Fortunately for me, I do not need your consent to marry you. The documents are already signed.”
My heart beats painfully against my sternum. “Then that document is fake, and so is any marriage that will follow. Legally, it won’t hold up. My father will fight it.”
“I doubt that, not when he sees the incriminating evidence in your hands.” He motions to the manila folder. “The same goes for your current fiancé. MacKenzie won’t be able to protest our union. Not if he wants to stay in control of his family.”
