"Where would I go?" She says flatly, all the fire from earlier dampened by exhaustion.
I almost smile. Almost.
Instead, I head toward my office, answering the call as I push through the heavy oak door. "What."
"Is that any way to greet your father?" Pa’s voice is smooth, cultured, the voice of a man who spent twenty years in the Senate before corruption charges ended his career. He never went to prison—I made sure of that—but the stain remains.
"It's the greeting you get when you interrupt my day." I close the door, move to the bar cart, and grab a bottle of water. My throat still feels like sandpaper, my mind still replaying lace and smooth skin and the way Bianca's breath hitched when I reached across her.
I drain half the bottle in one go.
"I wanted to discuss the Bellandi arrangement," Pa says, getting straight to it. He never was one for small talk.
"There is no arrangement." I grunt.
"Dante." The disappointment in his voice is thick enough to choke on. "We've been over this. The Bellandis are one of the most powerful families on the East Coast. An alliance with them?—"
"Means nothing to me."
"It means everything!" His voice rises, and I can picture him in his study, pacing in front of the fireplace like he used to when I was a kid. "Do you know what kind of connections Massimo Bellandi has? The shipping routes, the political contacts, the?—"
"I have my own connections." I drop into the chair behind my desk. "I’m Matteo’s capo, Pa, I don't need his."
"You need legitimacy. Respectability, after everything that happened with my career, this family needs?—"
"Your scandal isn't my problem to fix."
Silence.
"Everything I did was for this family," he says finally. "For you."
"Everything you did was for yourself." I deadpan. "And Mom paid the price."
"Don't." The word cracks like a whip. "Don't you dare blame me for?—"
"For what? For her drinking herself to death because she couldn't handle the shame you brought on our name?" I lean back, stare at the ceiling. "I was there when she died, Pa. Held her hand while she choked on her own vomit. Where were you?"
Another silence. Longer this time.
"The Bellandis expect an answer," he says, his voice carefully controlled now. "Caterina is a beautiful, intelligent woman from an impeccable family. She would be an asset?—"
"She's a viper in Prada heels who sees me as a stepping stone to more power." I finish the water, toss the bottle toward the trash. It bounces off the rim but I don't care. "I'm not interested."
"Then what are you interested in? Running Matteo Romano's errands for the rest of your life?"
Only he can undermine my position like this.
"I'm interested in not being controlled by a man who destroyed his own reputation and now wants to rebuild it through his son's marriage." I snap. "I make my own decisions."
"Bad decisions, apparently. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal it would cause if you reject the Bellandis? Massimo is not a man who accepts insults lightly."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have promised him something I never agreed to."
I hear him exhale, long and slow. The same sound he used to make when I'd disappoint him as a child. When I'd choose to spend time in Matteo's neighborhood instead of at political fundraisers. When I'd refuse to smile and shake hands with men I knew were corrupt.
"You're making a mistake," he says quietly.
"Uh huh.”
