“Italy?” he snaps, one brow arched. He’s angry and trying to hide it, but failing miserably.
“Yes. I have a project to oversee. I told you about it.”
“And it just happens to be in your Uncle Toni’s town?”
I loosen my cuffs, taking my time folding each sleeve with surgical precision. When I finally meet his eyes, he looks… ruffled. Flustered. Nowhere near the controlled tyrant he usually is.
“Why does that matter?” I ask lightly.
He exhales a shaky breath. His composure is slipping. “Do you plan to see him?”
I shrug. “I haven’t decided. I’m sure he’s busy.”
“My brother will use any chance he gets to divide this family,” he spits. “You know exactly how I feel about him.”
I take a seat behind my desk and lean back with a relaxed grin in place. “As I explained, I have business there. It’s unavoidable.”
“We have dinner plans with Nancy and her father. Which you’ve already managed to rearrange twice.”
“Take Erik.”
“I spoke with him. He tells me you’re winning the girl over?”
I bristle at his words. “I’m sure he did. You should be pleased. I’m going along with your stupid plan even though I have no idea what it is you want with her.”
“It doesn’t concern you, just like your business in Italy apparently doesn’t concern me.” He exhales, his eyes still burning with rage. “She has feelings for you,” he states.
“So?”
“You can’t afford to let this get messy, Warren. There’s Nancy to consider.”
“I’m doing what you asked me to do,” I snap. “She’s seeing her father today.” The anger falls away, placed with shock that he’s not quick enough to hide. “So, whatever I am doing, is working, wouldn’t you agree?”
He gives a stiff nod.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”
He heads for the door, pausing as he reaches it. “I forbid you from seeing your uncle, Warren.” And then he leaves.
Chapter Thirteen
LEONI
I stare up at the looming grey building, its concrete walls stretching high enough to blot out the sun. I know prisons aren’t designed to look welcoming, but this place feels like it was built specifically to crush hope on sight. Cold, miserable and heavy.
“Next,” a guard calls, his voice echoing off the slab-like exterior.
I step forward, the gravel crunching under my boots. The visitor line is shorter than I expected, and when I glance back, Anthony is right where he promised he’d be. Leaning against the car. Watching me with that same calm, unreadable expression. He gives a small, encouraging smile, like he can feel the tight coil of nerves twisting inside me.
I swallow, face forward again.
When it’s my turn, I hand over my visitor slip. The guard barely glances at it before nodding me toward the scanner.
I slip off my coat, step through, holding my breath out of instinct. Nothing beeps. No complications. No delays. Just the steady thump of my heart pounding in my ears.
“This way,” another guard gestures.
I follow her through a set of metal doors that slam shut behind us with a finality that makes my stomach clench. She leads me down a bland, fluorescent-lit corridor and points toward a small, enclosed visiting area.
