My father has been looking older ever since Tino Morelli died. I’ve never seen him lookvulnerable, but he does now, his face gray and pinched. “I thought…” He walks over to the side table running along one wall, where the firm keeps gifts and mementos from our clients or our travels. One of them is the chess board Tino Morelli gave my father many years ago as a token of appreciation. It’s the same one my father used when he mademelearn chess as a child. And as I watch, he sweeps the pieces to the ground with a violent crash, then rubs a shaking hand over his mouth. He turns back to me with a scowl. “You should know better than to go radio silent like that!”
I’m still looking at the chess pieces scattered on the ground, my mind working over the possibilities. “Has someone threatened the firm? Me?” If the blackmailer has widened his target, then I am—as Miranda suggested—in big trouble.
Papa is wrinkling his nose, his mouth curled up in disgust. “You stupid little shit. Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?”
For one gut-churning moment, I hear again the crunch of Gatti’s neck breaking. But I’ve trained hard to keep my face from showing surprise, and I’m grateful for that now. “I’ve been working on Nick Fontana’s case today. That’s all.” I calm my breathing and wait, offering no further information.
My father’s fist slams down on the side table, a dull thump that makes all the ornaments rattle. “You’ve been working Nick Fontana, alright. Do you think I’m an idiot, Giancarlo?” I only get the full name bullshit when I’vereallyfucked up. He storms back over to me, finger wagging in my face. “You’ve been screwing that asshole since before the Hamptons. Don’t deny it!”
For a moment, I’m silent, considering my options, and then I say, “Actually, he’s been screwing mine.” This time, I manage to catch his wrist before the hand connects to my face again, and I wrench it down awkwardly, making him gasp in pain. I take a step back, because if he tries to hit me again, I really will punch back, and then we’ll have a much bigger problem.
“You havedisgracedthis firm!” he shouts at me.
“And what exactly have you done this afternoon, interrupting everyone’s billable hours just to make them search for me?” I keep my voice level, my hands clenched by my sides.
Papa shakes his head, muttering insults in Italian that I don’t bother trying to make out. “When I heard about the break-in—that you were gone—I assumed someone came to extract all that pillow talk Fontana’s been spilling into your ears.”
“Why the hell would you—”
“They got Gatti, didn’t they?” He stands, leaning heavily against the table and still rubbing his shoulder, but I refuse to feel guilty about that. “If someone feels brave enough to disappear a groom on his wedding day under the noses of every single New York Boss, taking out a Morelli lawyer would be nothing to them.”
“No one has any reason to kill me. Nicky—” Shit. “Fontanadid not get where he is in that Family by spilling all their secrets in bed. And we—we’ve beendiscreet.”
“You call that performance at the Hamptonsdiscreet? You were trailing around after him like a goddamn puppy.”
Ialmostfire back that actually, Nicky was the one trailing around after me. There is no one on earth who can push my buttons like my father, but I refuse to let him do it. Not this time. There’s too much at stake, and I want to get out of here as fast as I can to warn Nick.
Because if someone came for me, they could be coming for him, too.
I breathe in through my nose slowly before I say, “Even if someone knows about us, there’s no reason for them to thinkIknow anything of importance. I’m not the only man Nick Fontana has ever been to bed with. And as for what I might know from my work here,you’rethe managing partner of this firm, not me.”
My father’s brows winch slowly together as he speaks. “You work closer with the senior Morellis than any of us these days.You’rethe one they ask for when they’re pulled in for questioning,yourepresent them in court, andyoucarry messages between them.” He pauses, his mouth screwing up as though he tastes something bitter. “Yes, you think I don’t know about that.But I do. I know that you are, unfortunately, the fulcrum between Bianchi and Associates and the Morelli Family, the link these other Families might seek to sever. And if itwereto get out that you were sleeping with Fontana—”
“Literally no one would give a fuck,” I snap. “No one except you.”
He draws himself up, head back on his neck, face up so he can look down his nose at me. “Because I am the only one who, as you so crudely put it,gives a fuckabout this firm’s reputation.”
And there we have it. The real reason behind this ridiculous behavior today: my father’s concern about the firm’sreputation. I’d almost laugh if it weren’t for that one small part of me that thought maybe,maybethis time, he’d actually show some affection for me that wasn’t predicated on my work here at his precious goddamn law firm. The only worry my father had today was that it would make Bianchi and Associates look weak if a senior partner got taken out in a hit.
“I’ll be more careful,” I tell him.
“You’ll stop seeing Fontana.”
The hell I will. But I don’t have time for another argument. “Sure. Once this case is—”
“Winter will take this case you claim to be working on.”
I have never, so far in my legal career with Bianchi and Associates, refused a direct order like this from my father. But there’s way too much on the line that he doesn’t understand. He may be obsessed with the firm’s good reputation, but it’s not the only thing that will cease to exist if Nicky and I can’t find out who’s behind…
“Papa,” I say, and whatever he hears in my voice, it stops him dead. “Did you send a note to Fontana about—about my relationship with him?”
“Why in the hell would I do that? Fontana’s not the problem, Giancarlo. It’syou, it’s always been you. Can’t keep it in your pants—”
“I’m seeing Nicky’s case through,” I tell him softly. “And there’s nothing you can do about that. He wantsmefor it. You’re gonna tell Nick Fontana to his face that this law firm will not provide him with the legal counsel of his choice? I don’t fucking think so.”
He’s going bright red with anger, mouth stretching as he tries to think of a way to bend me to his will. I turn, walk over to open the door, and leave him there.
But I can’t even enjoy my victory for a moment, because Miranda Winter is waiting right outside, like I knew she would be. She snaps to attention. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks sweetly. “Is this something the rest of the partners should be worrying about, for example? Do we think this was a targeted—”
