"She didn't align with my family. She married me. There's a difference."
"Is there?" His smile was cold. "Either way, I suppose this means our... working relationship will be changing."
"Drastically." I leaned back in my chair, completely relaxed despite the threat I was about to make. "In fact, I'd suggest you start making plans for your retirement. Effective immediately after our honeymoon."
"You have no pull or place in our business."
"I can. And I will." I smiled. "See, the thing about marrying into the Moretti family is that we protect our own. Aggressively. And we don't tolerate anyone threatening what's ours."
"I haven't threatened?—"
"You've been positioning yourself to take over the moment she failed to meet the terms of the will. And you've made it very clear what would happen to her if she succeeded." I leaned forward. "So yes. You've threatened her. And now you're going to pay for it. What kind of man preys on a grieving daughter? You’re her uncle. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?"
His face went white. "You have no proof that I’ve done such things. And yes it matters that I’m her uncle. That’s why she needs to concede and go do womanly things. She has no business trying to run this company. I tolerated her mother because she created the products, but now it's time for her to let the man of the family show her how it’s done."
“As the man of the family,” I sat up straight to make sure that he understood that was me and not him, “I have no desire to run Castellano & Co. That’s my wife’s business. Do I make myself clear? All of your shady dealings are about to disappear. You can resign quietly. Walk away with your freedom while you still have a choice.”
"The Vitales?—"
"Won't save you. They're not going to risk their treaty with us over some middle-management embezzler who got greedy." I stood, buttoning my jacket. "You have until we return from Santorini to make your decision. After that, I will make it for you."
I walked away, leaving him sitting there with the weight of his future crushing down on him.
Angelina materialized at my side immediately. "Everything okay?"
"Perfect." I kissed her temple. "Ready to go?"
"We still have—" she checked her phone, "time. Plus, presents!"
"Close enough." I grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the exit. “We can open gifts when we come back.”
"Dez, we can't just leave?—"
"Watch me."
Angelina dug in her heels and halted us. “No, I want to open gifts.”
I growled loudly. “Angelina…”
“Desmond.” She waited with now folded arms. “Nothing is going to make me less yours. Today is the most perfect day in my life and I’d really like to enjoy the celebration.”
I didn’t say a word, instead, I sat down in a nearby seat and leaned forward on my knees. I swallowed my frustration and irritation.
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
Angelina squealed, kissed my forehead, and ran toward the gift table. She signaled Gianna, who signaled the DJ. It was difficult to stay upset when I noticed how elated she was opening all the presents. There were quite a lot of them. After forty minutes, Angelina looked exhausted and there was still so much more to go. I joined her but when I looked around at all of it, I knew there was no way she was going to finish tonight.
I pulled out my cell and called for my guards. Fifteen minutes later, they were carrying all of that stuff outside to a van with orders to take it to our penthouse. Angelina insisted that everybody put their names, numbers, and address on the cards that were on their tables so that she could send thank you cards. Even in the middle of our wedding reception, she was thinking about proper etiquette and maintaining relationships. That was my wife.
Next was the bouquet and garter toss. Angelina had one made up to be tossed because the one she'd walked down theaisle with was silk flowers that she planned to keep. The garter wasn't the one she'd worn either. I'd been very clear about that. I didn't want anybody walking around with her scent embedded in that silk. That was mine.
The bouquet toss went first. All the single women gathered on the dance floor including Angelina's bridesmaids minus Maya, who was very much taken. Angelina turned her back to the crowd and threw. Imani caught it. She stared at the flowers like they'd personally offended her, then looked around as if trying to figure out who to blame for this development. I had to hide my smile. She was definitely not the type who bought into wedding superstitions.
Then came my turn. I made a show of it, kneeling in front of Angelina while she sat in a chair, hiking up her reception dress slowly while the crowd whooped and hollered. The garter was white lace, sitting high on her thigh, and I took my time removing it with my teeth just to watch her cheeks flush.
"You're terrible," she whispered.
"You love it," I murmured against her skin before pulling the garter free.
