Page 6 of His Prize
“So, you want to play her like a fool.”
I paused. “What?”
She shrugged. “It’s fine if you do. We all have people we want revenge on. And if you’re eventually going to go along with this to play her like a fool, no one would blame you.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Well, then good luck rekindling things with your ex. Because I know your business well enough to know that you don’t import or export anything out of Illinois. You have no need for being in the good graces of any Esposito, given the reasons you’ve stated. So, good luck.”
I sighed. “Bonnie, I don’t know what to—”
She looked over at me with determination in her eyes. “If you married me, right now, you could have everything: the Moretti Empire, a wife who wants to do nothing but throw herself at you, a home I know you want. Not to mention, it’d get Queen Esposito off your back when it comes to her throwing her damn daughter at you. And all we’d have to do is head back to the courthouse, get in front of a magistrate, and make it happen. Right now. You and me.”
I shook my head. “I know that’s not what either of us wants.”
“Is it not?”
I hesitated. “Is that whatyouwant?”
She turned away from me. “I don’t know what kind of man I thought you to be, but maybe you aren’t the man I thought you were.”
And as we rode home the rest of the way in silence, I pondered what her words meant.
If anything, so I could show her that her assumption wasn’t the case.
3
Bonnie
I drewin a whiff of my uncle’s study, and the smell of leather filled my nostrils. The old books filling the inlaid shelves transported me back to a time in my childhood where I’d sneak into his office just to pluck something off the wall. And every time he caught me, I remember how comforting my uncle’s laughter was. How comforting it felt for him to pick me up, place me on his knee, and scribble on some papers while I read a book to him.
Granted, they weren’t fun books. Some of them were biographies. Others were instruction manuals. A few of them were wonderful fiction novels, but not the kind of genre I usually gravitated to. I loved mysteries and thrillers with a bit of romance, while my uncle had always been into space and astronomy and science fiction.
Still, the memories bombarded me as I stood there.
And it brought tears to my eyes.
“Did you always think of me this way?” I whispered.
My hand settled itself against the mahogany desk I’d grown up to associate with my uncle. Spilled whiskey and cigar smoke laced the wood, and it continued to threaten to rip me back to a time where I really did assume I was one of his children. Loved, just like Brianna.
“Boy, was I wrong,” I murmured.
“You’re wrong about a lot of things.” My cousin’s voice sounded from the door, and I turned around to see her standing there, with her back straight and her dress freshly pressed and her heels shining as if they had just come out of the box. Brianna had always been so put-together. Her makeup was impeccable. Her jewelry always matched her outfit. And her purse, when going out, never ceased to match her shoes, even if her shoes and her purse were patterned.
“Hello, Brianna.”
She nodded. “Bonnie.”
“Can I help you?”
“You can start by getting out of this house.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
She snickered. “You don’t live here anymore. You’re not part of this family anymore.”
I shrugged. “Well, I run this family now. So, until I can get all of this stuff moved to Israel’s—”
