My grip tightens on the phone. If word gets out about our business before the alliance is secure, it could destroy everything we've worked for. The other families will see it as weakness, as a lack of control.
"Bring Valentina to my office. Now."
"Yes, sir."
I hang up and pour myself another coffee, adding a generous splash of whiskey this time. Between Vittoria's hidden intelligence, Lorenzo's moral objections, and now Valentina's potential betrayal, I'm starting to feel like I'm fighting a war on multiple fronts.
And the enemy might already be inside my house.
Twenty minutes later, Marcus escorts a defiant Valentina into my study. Her chin is raised, her eyes blazing with the same fire that once burned in her mother's gaze. But where Beatrice's fire was tempered with wisdom, Valentina's is pure rebellion.
"Sit," I command, my voice deadly calm.
She remains standing, arms crossed. "I'd rather not."
"That wasn't a request."
After a moment's hesitation, she drops into the chair, but her posture remains rigid, unrepentant.
"Tell me about your meeting last night," I say, keeping my tone conversational. "The real one."
Something flickers in her eyes—surprise that I know, maybe fear—but she lifts her chin higher. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Valentina." My voice drops to a whisper; the tone I reserve for those who are about to learn very painful lessons. "I'm going to ask you one more time. What did you tell the reporters?"
Her facade finally cracks, and I see the sixteen-year-old girl beneath the rebellion. "Nothing," she whispers. "I didn't tell them anything important."
"But you did talk to them."
She nods reluctantly. "They... they approached me at school, said they were doing a story about prominent Boston families. I thought?—”
"You thought wrong," I cut her off, rising from my chair. "You thought like a naive child instead of a Mariano."
Tears spring to her eyes, but her voice remains steady. "They already knew things, Father. About the wedding, about Vittoria. I didn't tell them anything they didn't already know."
My jaw clenches. If they already had information, that means we have a leak somewhere else. Someone close to the family.
"What, exactly, did they ask you?"
"About the wedding. About why you're marrying someone so young. About whether it's connected to business dealings." She pauses, swallowing hard. "About whether the family is involved in illegal activities."
Christ. They're fishing, but they're fishing with inside information. Someone's feeding them just enough to make their questions pointed.
"And what did you tell them?"
"That you're grieving Mother and that Vittoria seems nice. That's it. I'm not stupid, Father. I know better than to discuss family business with outsiders."
I study her face, looking for signs of deception. Valentina may be rebellious, but she's not a liar. Not usually.
"From now on," I say slowly, "you speak to no one outside this family without my permission. No reporters, no friends, noboys from school. You've just become a security risk, Valentina, and I don't tolerate security risks."
"You can't just lock me up?—”
"Watch me." I move around the desk until I'm standing directly in front of her. "You will go to school and come home. That's it. Any deviation from this schedule will result in consequences you won't like."
Her face crumples, and for the first time since she entered the room, she looks her age. "Father, please. I didn't mean?—”
"I don't care what you meant," I growl. "I care about protecting this family. Something you clearly don't understand yet."
