“This has nothing to do with that,” I said, even though he was right. “This is about getting what we need in Montana. Nick Wesley was the better choice. He’s stronger, more invested in the ranch, and he won’t crack under pressure. I made a business decision.”
“A business decision.” My father laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You made a selfish decision. You saw something you wanted, and you took it, consequences be damned.”
“The only consequence is that we now own one of the largest ranches in the Hell Creek valley,” I shot back. “The debt is settled, the property is secured, and we have a legitimate operation to funnel clean money through. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He stared at me for a long moment, his chest heaving with barely controlled rage. Then he moved around the desk, faster than a man his age should be able to move and grabbed me by the collar.
“Listen to me very carefully,” he said, his face inches from mine. “You will make this work. You will run that ranch, you will establish our presence out west, and you will not embarrass this family any further. I don’t care what you have to do to that cowboy to keep him in line, but you will make him a proper Valenti. Understand?”
I held his gaze, refusing to look away. “I understand.”
“And if you fuck this up—if you let your personal shit get in the way of business—I will bury you so deep that even your brothers won’t be able to find you. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
He shoved me back, releasing my collar. I straightened my jacket, maintaining what dignity I could.
“When’s the wedding?” he asked, moving back behind his desk.
“One month. Courthouse ceremony.”
“Good. Keep it quiet. The last thing we need is press.” He poured himself another whiskey. “And Dante? I want results. I want that ranch profitable within six months. I want connections established. I want other opportunities identified. You promised me Montana would be worth the investment. Prove it.”
“I will.”
“You better.” He took a sip of his drink, then waved his hand dismissively. “Get out. I can’t stand to look at you right now.”
I left his study, my hands shaking slightly as I closed the door behind me. I stood in the hallway for a moment, letting my breathing return to normal. That had gone better than I’d feared, if I was being honest. He was angry, but he hadn’t pulled the plug on the whole operation. That meant I still had a chance to prove myself.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Marco.
Marco: Benson and his family are taken care of. Costa Rica. Clean.
I deleted the message and headed for the exit. I had a flight back to Montana tomorrow to start making arrangements for the move. There was so much to do—finding a place to live on the ranch, setting up the business accounts, meeting with suppliers and buyers. And somewhere in all of that, I had to figure out how to handle my new husband.
Nick Wesley.
I’d seen the hatred in his eyes when he signed that prenup. The way his hand had trembled, the flush of shame on his cheeks. He’d looked at me like I was the devil himself come to collect his soul. And maybe I was. Maybe that’s exactly what this family had made me.
But I’d also seen something else in those green eyes. Something that made my pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with business.
Fear, yes. But also, fire. Defiance. The promise that he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Good. I liked a challenge. He was going to be sosweetto break.
I stepped out into the humid New Jersey night, the door closing behind me with a heavy thunk that felt final. I walked to my car and started the engine, already mentally planning mynext moves. The month before the wedding would be crucial. I needed to establish dominance early, make Nick understand that his life as he knew it was over. But I also needed to be smart about it. Push too hard and he might break completely, become useless to me. Not hard enough and he’d think he could resist.
It was a delicate balance, one I’d have to feel out as I went.
The drive back to my apartment took me through the familiar streets of Newark, past the social clubs and restaurants where my family had conducted business for five generations. This was my world. Concrete and steel, backroom deals and blood on the pavement. Montana was going to be different. Clean air and open spaces, cattle instead of contraband.
And a cowboy husband who hated my guts.
I found myself thinking about the way Nick had looked in those photographs. The easy confidence in his posture, the genuine smile. That version of him was already gone, killed the moment he’d signed his name on that prenup. Now I had to figure out what would rise from the ashes.
Something useful, I hoped. Something I could control.
My phone rang as I pulled into my parking garage. My oldest brother, Luca.
