My phone buzzed with a text from Dez.
My Man, My Man, My Man
How's your day going?
Good. Trying to finish everything before I leave for two weeks.
Two weeks in Santorini. Just you, me, and a private villa with no interruptions.
Heat flooded through me at the promise in those words. Our honeymoon. Fourteen days of sun and sea and Dez's undivided attention.
I couldn't wait.
Focus, Moretti. Some of us have actual work to do.
Soon you’ll be one, too.
I could practically hear the smug satisfaction in his voice.
Dinner tonight? I want to go over the seating chart one more time.
You mean you want to make sure all the dangerous criminals are seated far enough apart that they won't start a war during our reception?
Exactly. See you at seven?
See you at seven.
I set my phone down and forced myself to focus. The projections looked good. Actually, better than good. In the three months since my engagement, I'd been quietly but methodically strengthening Castellano & Co. New product lines in development that aligned with my vision instead of my uncle's cost-cutting measures.
Key hires in positions that had been deliberately kept empty or filled with Vincent's people. Contracts renegotiated to favor quality over profit margins. And most importantly, a paper trail. A clear, documented record of every decision I'd made, every change I'd implemented, every way I'd been steering the company back to my mother's original vision.
Because after I returned from my honeymoon, I was going to fire Vincent DeLuca. The thought made my pulse quicken with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. Dez had the evidence of embezzlement ready. His lawyers had the termination documents prepared. His father had given his blessing which, in Moretti terms, meant Vincent wouldn't survive any retaliation attempts. I was protected. The company was protected. All I had to do was execute.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in," I called.
My assistant, Maya, one of my new hires, sharp and loyal and everything Vincent's picks had never been, poked her head in.
"Ms. Castellano, your uncle is here to see you."
Of course he was.
Vincent had been acting increasingly erratic over the past three months. Ever since news of my engagement had spread through the company, he'd been trying to make major plays. Pushing projects through without my approval. Attempting to hire people for positions I hadn't authorized. Trying to shore up his power base before it crumbled beneath him. He could feel the pressure of what my engagement meant and like a mouse scurrying for food, he was trying to get his allegiance in order. I'd shut down every single attempt. Mouse traps everywhere.Snap!
"Send him in," I said, straightening in my chair.
Maya nodded and disappeared. A moment later, Vincent walked in. He was in his late fifties, with graying hair and a smile that had never reached his eyes. He'd been handsome once, Isupposed, but years of greed and ambition had hardened him into something cold and unattractive.
"Angelina." He sat in one of my guest chairs without being invited. "We need to talk."
"About?"
"About the Marchetti contract. You rejected the terms I negotiated."
"Because the terms were terrible." I pulled up the file on my screen. "They wanted us to reformulate our entire lip care line using cheaper ingredients. That's not happening. Plus, some of their suggestions were products not approved by the FDA. We will not be doing that."
"It would save us thirty percent on production costs?—"
