My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. My father went very still, his expression unreadable.
“The whole family?” Mom asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Even… Even the children?”
I nodded, feeling sick all over again. “Angelo says Dante didn’t do it. That he couldn’t have. But the detective seems pretty convinced he’s got his man.”
Dad moved to the kitchen table and sat down heavily. “What does this mean for us? For the ranch?”
The question hit me wrong, made something hot and angry flare in my chest. “What does it mean for us? Dad, Dante could go to prison for the rest of his life!”
“I know that, Nick.” His voice was sharp. “But we need to think practically here. If Dante goes away, what happens to our arrangement? To the loan? To this ranch?”
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, clutching the manilla envelope so hard it crackled in my hand. “Is that really all you care about?”
“That’s not fair,” Mom interjected, her voice gentle but firm. “Your father’s just trying to understand the situation.”
“The situation is that myhusband—” I stopped, realizing what I’d said. But I didn’t care. Not anymore. “Thatmy husbandis being framed for something he didn’t do. And we need to help him.”
My father studied me for a long moment. “You really believe he’s innocent.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes. I do.”
“Even knowing what he is? What his family does?”
I met his eyes steadily. “Even knowing that.”
Dad nodded. But it was my mother that spoke. “You love him, don’t you?”
I felt the tears well up in my eyes again. But there was no point in denying it anymore. Not when everything was on the line.
“Yes, I do,” I replied. “And I’d like to have him back.”
There was a long silence before my father cleared his throat. “Alright. What do we do then?”
I placed the envelope on the table between us. “This is the only signed copy of the prenup I signed and the only signed copy of the contract accepting the marriage as repayment.” Their eyes went wide as they stared. “Dante never sent copies or had them filed with the family lawyer. If I destroy these, we’re free and the cops can’t prove Dante forced his way into our lives. But if I keep them, Dante goes to prison for life and the Valenti’s entire operation is possibly ruined.”
Seconds slipped by, marked only by the clock ticking on the wall. Nobody spoke. Nobody hardly breathed.
“This is your choice, Nicky,” my father said at last, breaking the silence. “What do you need from us?”
I swallowed hard knowing there was no going back. “I need you to light the wood stove,” I said, holding up the contracts. “And make it hot.”
Chapter 27
Nick
Asingle sleepless night had barely passed before there was another SUV pulling up the long driveway to the ranch. However, this time it was black, the windows were tinted so dark that it was impossible to tell who was even driving, and Angelo was so nervous I thought he was going to vibrate out of his skin. The person in that SUV was probably one of the most terrifying humans on the east coast and the last man I ever wanted to meet. But Dante’s life was on the line and that was unacceptable. I’d take all the help I could get.
Even if that meant asking Enzo Valenti.
The SUV came to a stop in front of the main house, and for a moment, nothing happened. Just the engine ticking as it cooled, the dust settling around the tires. Angelo shifted beside me, his jaw tight.
“You should let me do the talking,” he said quietly. “At least at first.”
“This is my ranch,” I replied, though my voice came out shakier than I wanted. “My husband. I’m not hiding.”
The driver’s door opened first, and a man in a dark suit stepped out. He was built like a tank, all shoulders and no neck, with the kind of face that had seen violence and dealt itback twice as hard. He scanned the property with cold efficiency before opening the rear passenger door.
Enzo Valenti emerged like he was stepping onto a movie set. He was shorter and older than I’d expected, maybe five-eight and in his early seventies, but he carried himself with the kind of presence that made height irrelevant. His salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly styled, his suit probably cost more than my truck, and his dark blue eyes, so much like Dante’s, swept over the ranch with the calculating gaze of a man who assessed everything in terms of assets and liabilities.
