“I have many lockmasters and safe crackers at my disposal,” Mr. Bianchi responds.
“That doesn’t matter. That pass was the only fail-safe for when Mr. Parker died. Everything was impossible to open without it. So again, you have me to thank for anything you’re getting from Mr. Parker’s estate.”
A short silence rings around the room.
“And what…” Bianchi asks slowly. “Is the cost that you owe me for rescuing you and your men from certain death, my young beauty?”
“Nothing,” January says sharply. “You’re the reason we’re in this situation in the first place.”
Eli goes white and Doc mutters, “fuck me,” under his breath.
Adriano actually stands, no doubt to put his body between January and Bianchi but the man just chuckles. Actually, laughs good-naturedly at what’s surely the most disrespect he’s been shown in decades.
“What a woman you’ve grown into, Miss Whitehall,” he says with a wide smile.
“Fortunately, I’ve already married, or I would be considering stealing you from your fine Velvet House lovers and keeping you as my bride.”
January doesn’t smile, but Bianchi seems tickled even by that. “What are your terms, Miss Whitehall?
“I want Emilia to go to a mental health hospital,” she says at once. “She needs support and to be looked after. I’ll pay for it out of my own pocket if I have to.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bianchi says lazily. “I’ll make arrangements to take her to our nearest psychiatric clinic.”
“I want your word.”
The room seems to inhale again.
Bianchi presses a gnarled hand into his chest. “You have it on the honor of my life, the lives of my sons, and the souls of all I love who’ve gone before me. The girl will go to a clinic, and you will be updated on her progress, daily if you wish.”
January nods. “Thank you, Mr. Bianchi. I appreciate that.”
He laughs again, pale blue eyes gleaming. “What next?”
“I want half of whatever you claim from Mr. Parker to go to Velvet House as agreed,” January says promptly.
Bianchi looks to the still-dumbstruck Eli. “It shall be done.”
January shakes back her hair. “One more thing.”
“Name it, beautiful girl.”
“I want La Vita è Bella.”
Bianchi frowns. “What?”
“La Vita è Bella. The hotel where you had your wedding,” January clarifies. “I know you own it, and I’d like Velvet House to have it.”
There is a moment’s silence before Bianchi speaks again. “Why?”
“I know it would mean a lot to Eli, and I…” For the first time, January seems nervous. “I…have an interest in restaurants.”
“Do you now?” Mr. Bianchi asks.
“Yes,” January says, her voice gaining in strength. “And it would be my pleasure to restore La Vita è Bella and make it a place where the Italian community could visit regularly again. Also, you’re going to get billions from Mr. Parker so it shouldn’t matter to you. And you owe me.”
A new crease appears on Bianchi’s already wrinkled brow and my heart starts going double time. I know how much the old hotel means to Eli, how it’s a cornerstone of the old New York Italian community, but Bianchi’s been crowing about owning the place for years. He’ll never give it to January; he might even get pissed and—
“Fine.” Mr. Bianchi says airily. “You want the place, it’s yours.”
