“Please watch your language, Olivia,” said the wide-eyed priest, but she only turned her withering glare on him for a tick in response before those angry eyes found me again.
“Your father invited me,” I replied, approaching the don’s hospital bed. “We have business to discuss.”
“Mr. Castello is in no shape to discuss anything right now, my child,” the priest pled, earning another glare from the don’s daughter. Again, it turned back to me a moment later. I’d have to get used to it.
In the bed, the don blinked slowly. His head rose shakily from the pillow. The doctors had diagnosed him less than a year ago. The last time I’d met the man, he’d been on chemo but still looked hale dressed in one of his snazzy Italian suits. Seeing such a powerful man brought low, I more than understood why the attorney wanted to stay outside the room.
“I think he’d disagree with you, Father.” I pointed to the patient.
“Your eminence,” the man corrected.
“Come on, Father. You don’t have to be so formal.” I flashed a smile. Sometimes, I just couldn’t help myself. “Please, call me Dimitri.”
The man’s eyes widened. His lips quivered as he tried to find his response. Olivia wasn’t so tongue tied.
“My father is dying,” she snapped, stepping between me and the hospital bed, arms crossed. “I’d be happy to discuss whatever business you have with our family, but I’m sure it can wait until after I’ve buried my father.”
“I’m not dead yet, Livy.” The don’s voice wavered and cracked like it came from an old phonograph. “And my business with Dimitri cannot wait.”
The dying man barked the word ‘my.’ His daughter flinched at that until he started hacking. Both she and the nurse rushed to the side of the bed. The other woman patted his back. His arm rose to brush her off, but it fell back to the bed when his energy faltered.
“Cardinal, Nurse, leave us,” croaked the don when he’d recovered enough.
Olivia’s sculpted black eyebrows knitted. Her glare moved between her father and me several times as the others rushed toward the door. Those eyes narrowed as she realized the nature of the business I’d come to discuss. The don had told me she was sharp. I had seen enough to know that back in our school days, too. She only had part of the puzzle, though. I was prepared for a slap when she learned the total score.
“Papa, what’s this about? I thought we talked about what was going to happen to the family when you were gone,” Olivia pouted.
Her entire demeanor had changed. Wide puppy dog eyes had replaced the dangerous slits. Her voice sweetened. The powerful businesswoman facade gave way to daddy’s little girl, ready to manipulate her father one last time.
“I’m sorry, Livy,” whispered the don. His eyes closed as he grimaced. When they opened, moisture glistened at their corners. “I know you’re ready to take over, strong enough even, but the men. They wouldn’t accept you as my replacement.”
“But they’ll respect this Russian thug?” she screeched, a finger stabbing my way. “His family doesn’t even want him!”
Under normal circumstances, I might have objected to being called a thug. Not that it wasn’t true. You didn’t rise as high as I had in the Bratva as quickly as I did without getting a little blood under your nails. The crack about my issues with my uncle had me seeing red but again, I held back. The don was about to give his daughter more than enough reasons to hate me. Why add to that? I was a diplomatic thug… sometimes.
“Yes, they will respect Dimitri.” The dying man’s voice gave way to a cough. He took a wheezing breath before continuing, “They will respect him because he will be marrying my only daughter.”
Olivia staggered back from the bed as if her father had struck her. Her jaw fell and her wide eyes took on a crazed glint. She stormed toward me.
“You son of a whore!” she screamed and reared back.
Her right hook took me by surprise. My hand intercepted it all the same, though it stung like hell. When her knee shot up a moment later, I twisted out of the way just in time to avoid a crotch shot.
“I don’t know how you convinced my father to sell me like some trinket, but I can guarantee you’re going to be feeling some buyer’s remorse,” she hissed after wrenching her hand from mine.
“Livy,” the don barked, falling into another wracking cough, “it was my idea. I asked for his help.”
“Help?” Olivia fell into a cackle. “How noble of him. You offered the keys to your kingdom and me to sweeten the deal. Such a sacrifice. How long did it take you to say yes, thug? I bet less than a second.”
“It took him three meetings over a month to convince me,” I replied.
My answer stole the wind from her sails. She frowned, brow furrowed. Then the full weight hit her, that I’d initially said no. She sucked in a breath as her jaw dropped. Great. I’d pissed her off and then offended her in less than 30 seconds.
“You have to realize how precarious our position is, Livy.” Her father’s voice pierced the silence. “The men wouldn’t follow you. It’s the truth, a hard truth I know.”
Olivia opened her mouth to object, but her father held up his hand. It shook and fell back to his bed, but did its job.
“The only way you could inherit the family is as a wife. If you married one of my lieutenants, it would end up in a civil war. If I turned to one of the other families, my men wouldn’t accept it. You’d still have war. We needed an outsider.”
