I draw my shoulders back. My father’s office is what he means. At least it was. I suppose, if we’re going to be technical about it, it hasn’t been my father’s office in ten years. Not since both he and my mother died.
“Right.” I clench my jaw. “The office.”
My heels click against the tiles as we make our way down the hall to the double oak doors of the office. Standing outside the room is another of his minions. This one at least wears a full suit, not just a white button down like my escort.
He looks me over, his eyes full of want while his lips curl into a smile I would gladly wipe off his face if it didn’t mean my uncle would take the opportunity to make my existence unbearable.
Marco, my oldest brother, was a lot like Vicente. He enjoyed the suffering of others. I learned at an early age the only way to beat Marco was to pretend he couldn’t hurt me. I failed more often than I succeeded.
He was better at the game than I was.
Sometimes I thought only the devil could be more evil than my brother.
But I didn’t know my uncle as well, then.
The soldier boy pushes open the door on the right and jerks his head. A silent order to go inside.
“Thank you. What would I do without your instructions,” I mutter to the asshole as I breeze past him.
He murmurs something back, but it’s too low and in rapid Italian so I don’t understand it. I know the language, but it’s been so long since I’ve used it if it’s spoken too quickly, I have trouble.
Another strike against me, according to my brothers.
The door shutting behind me feels like the seal of a tomb being put into place. An ominous aura fills the space. The little hairs on my neck stand at attention.
My uncle stands at the center of the room. With his lush, thick, silver hair slicked back from his face and the tailored black suit clinging to his aging body, my uncle stares at me with the same cold stare Marco used to have.
A chill runs up my spine at an old memory flashing in my mind. I close my eyes and clear my throat, and it dissipates before it takes root.
“You wanted to see me.” I fold my hands in front of me, pressing my heels together, and roll back my shoulders.
“I did.” He nods. “Would you like to sit? It’s been a long day, and you’ve been on your feet for hours.”
I glance at the couch near him. He’s right. My feet throb inside these three-inch heels.
“No, thank you. I still have a lot to do. Everyone’s left, but I want to check on the caterers and there’s a few other things.” I’m rambling. “Father Steven has left; he wanted to me to let you know if you need him again to just call.”
His beady little eyes narrow a fraction. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
I let my shoulder drop. I bite back the questions tingling on my tongue. What does he want, and when is he leaving?
“Sienna. I have some news.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He just stares me down and suddenly I feel like I’m in a pissing contest with my seventy-five-year-old uncle, who probably hasn’t peed like a normal human in years.
“Oh?” I prompt.
“It’s regarding your future.”
My ears perk up; my entire spine stiffens.
“My future?”
“Yes.” He nods.
Whatever the news is, it will be bad. Marco had the same habit. When he was about to tell me something that would anger me or hurt me, he’d drag out the conversation. Releasing only tiny bits of information at a time.
He relished in the agony of others.
