“Really?” I lean back. I watch the tightness in his face, the tension in his jaw.
“Yes, I have a minor project. She will betray him, and he will come home.”
“And then what? We play happy fucking families knowing he betrayed us for some pussy.”
“Enough!” He stands, slamming his hands onto the desk. “Wait until I say otherwise. Now leave.”
I stand, huff a humourless laugh, and turn, leaving without regarding him again. Fuck Vittorio. He’s always been the favourite. I’ll burn all their worlds down and take everything for myself, and then Father can either berate me or praise me, but either way, it will all be mine.
Arianna
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m sitting in my office, going through some security footage at Larry’s, making sure he’s towing the line after his facelift. Deano has been a great addition to my team. I can’t believe my father overlooked him for so long. He’s young, ambitious, connected, extremely hardworking, and so far loyal.
As part of his new role, I have him keeping an eye on Larry’s business since I demoted him. Although he’s feeling bitter about his younger, more productive replacement, he hasn’t pushed back… yet. I’ve been keeping a close eye on him since his return, although he’s not happy about his demotion. Deano seems to be working out well, and revenue is up twelve per cent. Larry’s nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder. I can’t figure out if he’s nervous because I rearranged his face or shifty because he’s trying to pull one over on me.
I watch intently for any sign of the latter. People coming and going, and Deano has also got his ear to the ground because it’s in his best interest to keep Larry on a short leash; he is my go-to man after all. With Deano and his men in charge now, I feel I can relax a little, but I don’twant to get complacent like my father and the other Syndicate members.
I’m female, there will always be pushback, no one is going to just sit back and take it, like if I had a dick. As if that makes me more qualified to head a mafia family. I’m just waiting for an excuse to get rid of Larry, but I can’t toss everything on its arse while I’m trying to take over.
For now, Larry is a beacon, a neon sign shining out there for all to see that if you cross me, you will pay with either your looks or your life. I need to pick my battles right now. I’m disturbed from my concentration by a knock at the door.
“It’s me, Miss Bianchi. Can I have a word?”
Matteo. I bristle at his voice. He’s been quiet since the wedding, giving me space, which I appreciate. But then I also haven’t been anywhere or needed him.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open, and he turns, glancing each way down the corridor before stepping in and clicking the door closed gently behind him.
“What can I do for you, Matteo?”
He’s looking everywhere but at me, and he’s carrying a large manila envelope.
“Matteo? You wanted something?”
He steps forward, clutching that envelope so tightly, and then stares down at me, making eye contact for the first time. There’s a spark of something that crosses his features, sorrow maybe, but it’s gone before it takes hold.
“If you’re handing in your resignation, I don’t accept.”
He gives me a tentative smile but shakes his head, stepping forward and placing the envelope on my desk. Ireach for it, and as I try to slide it towards me, he grips it tighter. A moment passes where we just stare at each other, both holding onto the opposite end, before he takes a small step back, straightening before giving me a curt nod. I pick it up, but my eyes stay trained on him. I watch each tick of his jaw, each twitch of his eye, each gulp as he swallows. Reaching inside the envelope, I start to pull the contents out. His hands cross in front of him, but there’s the slightest twitch in the corner of his lips. If I weren’t looking for something, I might have missed it, and then it’s gone before it even began. My eyes flick down as I pull the papers out of the envelope, seeing that they’re photos.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Bianchi.”
Matteo gives me a sympathetic shake of his head, and his lips turn down in a frown. I gaze back down, staring at the photos. I keep my glare on him too, watching every move he makes; he feels smug. I can see it in his stance, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, the little twitch at the corner of his mouth, thinking he’s going to get a reaction from me, thinking these images are damning and that they’ll make me have a meltdown or worse. I curl my lip as I stare at the photos.
“Miss Bianchi?… Arianna?” His tone is questioning. Are you okay? Are you upset? What about livid? Do you want to cry? Can I be your shoulder to cry on? Can I be your rebound? I hear it all in the way he says my name.
I stare up at him. “It’s Mrs,” I say as I stare back down at the photos.
I look at every minute detail in them. I flick from one to the next, and Matteo crosses his arms across his chest,a defensive stance, a slight disappointed scowl etches itself across his features.
“What do you want to do about them, Mrs Bianchi?” He emphasises the “Mrs” part now with a mild hint of sarcasm. I smile at him and slide the pictures back inside the envelope and slip it inside my drawer.
“Nothing.” I smile at him and turn back towards the monitor, and start to scroll through the footage. “Did you need anything else, Matteo?”
“That’s it?” I turn and stare at him.
