“Most men would be a drastic improvement over Paulo. That’s not a good comparison.”
“I’m just saying it could be a lot worse.”
“How exactly?” I glance over her head to ensure no one is listening. “He’s the younger brother of the man who stole my innocence and tortured me in the most horrific ways. This should be straightforward. I marry him, and when the time is right, I kill him. But it’s not straightforward because he’s infuriating and sexy and enigmatic and I can’t stop thinking about him and how fucking amazing the sex was between us.” Her eyes light up, and sometimes I wonder if Nic is missing a few vital brain cells. “Trust me, this is not a good thing.”
“Would it be so bad to let yourself enjoy him for whatever time you do have with him?”
“Yes, it would.”
“Why?”
“Because I might start to feel something for him, and that will only make my task harder.”
Her eyes pop wide. “Oh my, wow. You already feel something for him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The only thing I feel is an irritating craving to fuck his brains out. Which is why I can’t agree to this absurdity.” I wave the contract in my hand. “He has added a sex clause.”
Her eyes widen so far I’m afraid they might pop out of her head. “Lemme see.” She grabs the document out of my hand before I can stop her. “Ho-lee fucking shit.” She fans herself with her hand as she reads the list of his sexual demands, including how he wants it twice daily, access to my mouth, my pussy, and my ass, and I’m to subject myself to bondage and other kinks he’s in to. In an attempt at equality, he has left a space blank for me to add my own list of sexual demands. “You’ve got to agree to this!” she shrieks, almost bouncing in her seat. “You can’t turn a man like this down!”
“I need to for my sanity, but I can’t have him fucking other women while he’s my husband.” He’s not being unreasonable stating I fuck him or let him fuck other women. I do know that, but I can’t find a workable solution that will safeguard my sanity and my goals.
“He has you by the proverbial balls,” she agrees, casting her eyes over the rest of the document. She taps her finger on a section farther down the page, the pregnancy and medical clause. “How are you going to manage that?”
“I’ll bribe the doctor to lie on his report. Massimo is requesting I attend his own guy for a full medical, and your husband dug up some shit I will use to make the not-so-good doctor agree to my demands. Trust me, Massimo won’t know I’m infertile. He’ll get a glowing report confirming I’m prime breeding ground.” In the interests of fairness, my husband-to-be is also undergoing a full medical, and I appreciate his attempt at equality. It is not usual for made men to offer such a thing, and it only makes me more curious about him.
“Ew. Do you have to put it like that?”
I don’t explain how I must be clinical or crude when raising the topic because it has taken me years to discuss the subject at all and years to condition myself to hide the pain. One of the worst things Carlo did to me was taking away my ability to have children. If I allow myself to think about it, I get all up in my feels, and emotions are a death sentence for a woman in my position.
“Yes. I do,” I say in a clipped tone as the owner walks toward us with a broad smile on her face.
“I know you do. I’m sorry.” Nic pulls me into a hug before easing back to examine my face. “I hate you have to do all of this. I truly do. I hate this life for you. You deserve so much more.”
Nic doesn’t quite agree with my approach to vengeance. She understands why I plot and plan, but she worries about the long-term consequences and whether I will feel more at peace after it’s done. She would rather I let it go and advance my career formeand not as a means of exacting revenge.
“I do, but we work with the cards we’ve been handed the best way we know how. This is how I chose to play the game, and there is nothing or no one who will steer me off course now.”
ChapterNine
Massimo
The site manager shows Fiero and me the latest progress, and I exchange a wide grin with my best friend and business partner as we walk around the large waterfront property we jointly own, growing more excited as we inch closer to completion. Everything we have been working toward since we graduated high school is coming to fruition, and soon it will be time to make our move.
“Thank you,” I say, shaking the man’s hand when we end up back on the lower level in the large space that will become our personal office. “Everything looks perfect. Exactly how we envisioned it.”
“We appreciate you are keeping us on schedule and within budget,” Fiero adds as he shakes the man’s hand. “Don’t forget there will be a nice fat bonus waiting for you if you finish on time and on budget.”
The man nods before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving us to our own devices. I remove the hard hat on my head and place it down on the large rectangular desk in the center of the open space before walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I stare at the soft ripples of the Hudson River outside, flowing into Upper New York Bay, with a mounting sense of contentment. A large cargo ship with colorful stacked containers lies motionless at the side of the terminal a few miles to our right. Farther up, tall red cranes stretch skyward as they ferry containers from ship to land. On our left are a couple of other industrial premises. The northern tip of Staten Island buzzes with industrious energy, and I can’t wait for the day we are operational and our output matches our neighbors’.
“Did you ever visualize it like this?” Fiero asks, coming up alongside me. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “When we were holed up in your bedroom, concocting wild plans to show our fathers we were worthy successors, did you ever dream we’d own a property like this? Have access to our own shipping port and unlimited potential for expansion and control?”
“I didn’t have the imagination or the experience to conceptualize anything like this,” I truthfully admit. “I knew I wanted to rule from the very top, but getting from point A to point B was less clear.”
He slowly nods. “I know what you mean. It’s surreal, but at the same time, we have worked our butts off for this. We deserve this.” He lifts his clenched fist, and we touch knuckles. “We’re doing it, man. We’re really fucking doing it.” His grin is so wide it threatens to split his face.
I shoot him a matching grin. “Fuck your old man for never believing in you.”
