He turns to me, his cerulean eyes colliding with mine. “I know that, and you know that, Vinnie. But Joseph doesn’tbelieveit. He thinks when it comes time to pass the torch that Daddy Dearest will pass it directly over his head and straight into your hands.”
His words resonate within me and I fold my arms across my chest in a very child-like way. Tears prick the back of my eyes as a flood of memories overtake my thoughts—moments from when Joseph and I were children and best friends. I let myself internally mourn for a moment. “So that’s it then? Joseph just hates me until the day that Father finally does step down and he realizes the business has always been his?”
Luciano shrugs, then claps his palm against my knee. “I wish I had more to say about the matter, V. I’ve had numerous conversations with him, but Joseph is stubborn and refuses to see anything outside of his own thoughts and opinions. Give him time. He’ll change his outlook eventually.”
“And the bullshit with August? I’m just supposed to give that time, too? They’re scheming, Luce. My gut’s screaming at me that something isn’t right.”
“I haven’t heard you curse in a long time, sister.” He stands, buttoning his suit jacket. “I’ll see what I can findout about August and why he’s pursuing you, because you’re right, those two are up to something—I can see it clear as day.”
Bending down, he kisses my cheek. “Don’t worry, sis. At least you have one brother who will always love you.”
He cracks a smile, meaning his words as a joke, but they invoke immediate sadness throughout me.
Vibration pulls both of our attention as his phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out, discreetly looking at who’s calling. “I have to take this,” he says, immediately turning to leave. “Hello?” he says as he walks through the alcove, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.
Mirroring how my brother sat earlier, I turn toward the window and drape my arm across the back, leaning my head against my hand as I look out to the street.
Worry lines my brow, my brain running rampant with thoughts of what August and Joseph might be conspiring. I want to talk to Sly. I want him to hold me in his arms and tell me everything will be fine and he’ll protect me against whatever my brother and his friend are planning.
Because theyareplanning something. I can feel it. I just don’t know what it is.
“Miss Paladino? Brunch is served, and your mother is requesting you,” a housekeeper says from the edge of the room, offering me a small smile in apology for interrupting my thoughts.
I look over at her and nod before turning back to the window.
My mother is requesting me.
Of course she is. She probably wants to gush more about this morning's paper.
Oh, God. The paper. I need to speak with Sly before he sees it—explain to him that the smile was not what it looked like.
My stomach twists into knots.
“Miss?” the housekeeper asks again, a sympathetic look etched into her features. Clearly under instruction to make sure I join my family.
Blowing out a deep breath, I stand and ready myself for the next forty-five minutes of my life, where I have to act like everything’s okay.
Lie to my parents about not having met someone. Pretend that I’m not falling in love with him and I haven’t been sneaking around with the son of a man my father considers an enemy.
Convince them the photo with August meansnothing.
Most importantly, though, it’s time to go play the role of the perfect daughter until I can get out of this house and finally breathe again.
Chapter 26
Sly
Green is not a color I consider myself to look good in, so I’m completely bewildered as to how I keep wearing a very particular shade of it—jealousy.
Seeing my woman in the arms of another plastered all over the front pages of Manhattan newspapers and gossip stirs the darkness inside me, forcing me to push it down. White hot anger coursing through my blood, nipping at my insides until it consumes me so wildly, it overtakes my whole being.
I hadn’t expected to see it in print, and I sure as hell don’t expect to see it on my walk to work, as I pass by the newspaper vendor on the corner. My neck narrowly survives whiplash with how quickly my muscles snap back when I see Vincenza on the front page.
And the way my stomach sinks…
I practically rip the paper in half as I pick it up, gripping it so tightly in my hands my knuckles turn white, and the edges crinkle from the pressure.
It takes me several minutes to snap out of it.
