AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Forty-Six
-Lilah-
Carmine Carluccio is both everything I thought he would be and absolutely nothing like what I thought he would be. He’s got that air of old money, like he has no understanding of what it’s like to be without it, but he also has a second side that makes it feel like he’s an underdog.
Dante takes me to meet him almost as soon as I'm escorted to dinner.
Marco stands close to my back, and to me, that is incredibly telling.
“Father, this is Delilah. My assistant.” Dante waves his hand between us, and I put a hand out to shake the Don of the Carluccio family’s hand.
My enemy number one.
The man who planted the seed to have my father murdered.
The man who crafted a plan to marry me off when I was just a baby.
Funny that now I’m in bed with his least favorite son.
“Ah, of course! The pretty blonde. Turner’s daughter, yes?” he says, and before I can nod, his hands are on my cheeks, pulling me in, a kiss to each cheek. “Great to meet you, little lady.”
I need a shower, I think to myself.
On the outside, the siren takes over as I smile.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. Carluccio.”
None of it good.
“And I you, Delilah. Carmine. Call me Carmine. We’re practically family, after all,” he says, and the look in his eyes . . . I’ve seen it.
In Dante’s, when a part of his plan is clicking into place.
My stomach churns.
“With you working for Dante and all,” he says, clarifying, but not convincingly.
“Yes. Of course.” I force a smile to my red lips, and a hand appears on Carmine’s shoulder, a taller man leaning down to whisper in his ear.
“Sure,” he murmurs to the man, then he turns his attention back to me. “We’ll catch up soon, yes? There’s a matter I must see to.”
I nod, and Dante says something I can’t process before the man walks off.
“You did great,” he whispers in my ear before standing straight.
“Dante, who is this?” a sugary sweet voice asks, and when I look, there she is.
Angela fucking Sigano, her fingers wrapping around my man’s elbow like she fucking owns him.
She is everything I will never be in a million years.
Tall and lithe, a Kate Moss-style model. Her hair is long and dark, and her dress is a perfect light-blue color that compliments her skin perfectly.
I want to tear it off her.
Marco, the saving grace he is, takes my balled-up hand and places it on his own elbow. I don’t look up at him the way I want to, don’t give him a smile, but I do tighten my hand just a hair in thanks.
“This is my assistant Delilah. Lilah, this is Angela Sigano.” His eyes are on mine, never looking at the woman next to him, and I don’t miss the way he steps to the left just a smidge—just enough to move her hand off him as he puts his in his pockets.
