Page 66
Giulia began making notes.
“I also want my own attorney,” I continued. “Not a Bellandi lawyer and not someone chosen by the Morozovs. I will choose my own lawyer. They’ll answer to me alone.”
“The trust can pay the fees,” Giulia said.
“I’ll decide that after my attorney confirms the trust is actually mine.”
A small smile touched her mouth. “That sounds reasonable.”
Raffaele didn’t look nearly as pleased.
“And no one ever uses my name again without my written approval,” I added. “No alliance discussions. No appointments. No public statements about succession. If a decision requires my authorization, then I will have a seat in the room.”
“These records contain operational information,” Raffaele said. “Names, routes, connections. People who could be killed if—”
“She is already being hunted because of that information,” Sergei interrupted. “Keeping her ignorant is not the way to keep her safe.”
Raffaele’s gaze narrowed with disbelief. “You support giving her access to all of it?”
“It is her name on the trust,” Sergei countered.
I looked up at him to see that his attention remained on Raffaele, his face controlled, but I understood what he had done. He hadn’t taken my side because he thought my demands were cute or because giving me paperwork might make me easier to control. He believed I had the right to know even if the truth made his job harder.
Raffaele sat back. The shutters behind him were open, revealing a strip of black Sicilian sky and the distant glow of lights across Palermo.
“All right,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “All right?”
“You will receive the trust documents and American records. Giulia will arrange secure access tonight. You may retain independent counsel.”
“Thank you,” I said softly.
The call ended twenty minutes later. Maxim and Ivan stayed behind to discuss how to enter the Bellandi records into Kit’s secure system without creating another path for Sokolov to exploit. I stepped into the corridor, needing several feet of space between myself and every man who thought port access was an entertaining topic.
Sloane waited on the window seat with two cups of coffee.
“You looked like you might need one,” she said.
“I may need something stronger.”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
“I stand by my statement,” I smirked.
She handed me the cup and tucked one leg beneath her. “Family is difficult sometimes. My father is kind of like yours.”
I glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.
“My dad loves me, and he has still managed to make some spectacularly terrible decisions on my behalf. The two things can be true at the same time.”
“Does that make those decisions easier to forgive?”
“No.” She took a sip. “It makes the relationship worth working on, though, instead of automatically burning it to the ground.”
I leaned against the wall opposite her.
“I don’t know whether Raffaele loves me or feels guilty about my mother. He’s never really been a father to me.”
