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It was the moment in which it dawned on me that my father was completely irredeemable. He didn’t care for me or the baby. The only thing he cared about—ever—was The Outfit.
He loved and adored me when I was his puppet. And at the first sign of defiance, he discarded me and shook off any responsibility toward me.
He sold me. Then lost his interest in me when he could no longer marry me off to another strong Italian family.
Wolfe, however, stuck around through thick and thin. Even when we antagonized each other. Even when he thought I’d slept with Angelo and saw me kissing him, and when I defied him again and again and again.
The word divorce never left his mouth.
Failure wasn’t an option.
He showed me more loyalty than my father did.
“Good point.” Wolfe stood up. “I’ll take her to the doctor right away.”
“You will do no such thing. In fact, you will not be seeing her tonight, at all,” my father retorted.
Wolfe strolled toward him unflappably, stopping a few feet from my father and towering over his head. “Is that her request or yours?”
“Her demand. Why do you think you haven’t heard from her yet?” My father put his cigar in an ashtray, sending a plume of smoke in Wolfe’s face as he spoke. “She requested I make sure that you grovel properly.”
“Let me guess—you have plenty of ideas.”
“I do.” My father unknotted his ankles, pushing off the desk so he was nose to nose with Wolfe.
I wished I could see my husband’s face at that moment. My father was lying to him, and he was too smart not to see that.
Then again, love was like a drug. You didn’t think clearly under the influence.
“I’ll let you see Francesca if you comply.”
“And if I don’t?”
“White can personally come and arrest me today, and you can burst through Francesca’s bedroom door armed with police force. I’m sure she’d appreciate it. Especially in her current state.”
Wolfe was silent for a moment.
“Do you realize she misses you?” he asked my father.
My heart clenched painfully. God, Wolfe.
“Do you realize that I’m a businessman?” my father retorted. “She’s a damaged asset. We all have a price tag, Fabio Nucci.” He laughed in my husband’s face. “I was born on the streets and left at the steps of a church door to almost die. My mother was a prostitute, and my father? Who knows who he was. Everything I have, every square foot in this house, every piece of furniture, every fucking pen, I’ve worked for. Francesca had one job—to be obedient. And she failed.”
“Because I set her up for failure.” Wolfe raised his voice, spitting in my father’s face.
“That may be, but her only value to me right now is to be a pawn against you. You see, I’ve made the mistake of undervaluing a person once in my life. When I decided to foolishly let you live.”
Something dropped between them, and it thudded against the silence of the room. Jesus. He actually said it. My father regretted not killing my husband.
“Why didn’t you?” Wolfe seethed. “Why did you let me live?”
“You were frightened, Nucci, but you were also strong. You didn’t cry. You didn’t piss your pants. You even tried to snatch one of my men’s weapons. You reminded me of my young self when I ran on the streets barefoot, stealing food, pickpocketing, and working my way up. Hustling to the core and making ties with The Outfit. I knew you had a chance to survive this part of the neighborhood. More than that—I knew you were a savage. Wolfe Keaton plays nice with the law, but let’s admit it—Fabio Nucci is inside you, and he is out for blood.”
“I will never be your ally.”
“Good. You make a fascinating enemy.”
“Whatever you need me to do, get it over with,” Wolfe barked.
