Bullshit. It has to be bullshit, right? I flash back to my mother’s urgency to shut this down, that sense that she’s hiding something about Leo Morelli. So much deception all around me. I wouldn’t be a Constantine, though, if I didn’t uncover all of it. Rid the trash, build the empire walls higher, and fuck everyone who doesn’t share our last name.
“Empty promises,” I say, taking a moment to sip my wine. “You’ve proven to be a liar and a bastard.” My gaze lands on Lucian as I set my glass down. “The Beast of Bishop’s Landing, right?”
“Listen here,” Leo growls, living up to his whispered nickname. “You don’t get to come in here and—”
“Enough,” Lucian interrupts. “The way I see it, Constantine is offering a simple solution to a problem that shouldn’t even be one.” Lucian glowers at me from across the table. “As simple as it is, though, I’m inclined to resist. It’s clear you have some sort of attachment to that building.”
“Your resistance would be a waste of your time, energy, and limited funds,” I throw back. “I’m sure my mother also said as much.”
“Is the proposed contract of sale legitimate?” Lucian asks their lawyer.
A nod. “It’s straightforward.”
“As was the original agreement,” Anthony reminds them.
Leo glares at me. Yeah, fucker, you made this difficult, not me.
“Are you really going to give him what he wants?” Leo demands, turning his fiery hot anger on his older brother.
Lucian sighs. “Do you really want all our secrets dragged out in court? Maybe Winston would live to regret that, but so would we.”
A dark look from Leo, but he doesn’t dispute it.
“Mr. Constantine will purchase the building at the original price,” Anthony says, bringing our meeting back on track. “Mr. Morelli, you can go ahead and sign the places indicated with a sticker. This will all be over soon.”
Leo glowers at the document that’s slid toward him. The Morellis always wear their emotions on their sleeves. Leo in particular has a legendary temper. Constantines are known for keeping their emotions beneath impenetrable layers of icy cold indifference. The fact that I’m burning with my own cold rage makes no appearance on my face.
Leo scrawls his name in the designated places. The documents are passed back to me where I take my time to read through the agreement again. Then, I sign in the necessary places. Harold will move the money tomorrow.
“Stop by my office in the morning,” Anthony says to the Morellis, “to receive your check and to finalize the paperwork.”
Once the signed document is tucked away in Anthony’s folder, I stare down Lucian. “Now, for the other matters of business. First and foremost, let’s talk about the consequences of Leo’s actions when he released those defaming photos and videos.”
“Is this a threat?” the lawyer interjects.
“No,” I say with a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s a conversation. Surely you must know how damaging the release of those private pictures and videos were to the Constantine name.”
“So?” Lucian demands. “The contract is signed. It’s finished.”
Leo gives me a smug look, as if he’s happy I’m forcing the issue. Understanding washes over him long before it does for his attorney. The contract was simple. Incredibly simple. So simple that it doesn’t mention anything about the lawsuits I plan to file for the defamation. A separate issue entirely.
They took my word at face value. At the insinuation that this would all go away with the signing of Leo Morelli’s name. But I’m not done fucking with them.
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” I say, staring down Leo. “You’ll make them go away. Whoever your people are in the media, contact them. Your efforts to squelch the fire your family started will be acknowledged. The lawsuits we have lined up ready to move forward on will remain unfiled. This problem will fade just as quickly as the stories all over the news will.”
Leo, clearly irritated by my demands, bristles. “There will be no photos.”
“See to it that it happens quickly,” I state in a hard tone. “Otherwise, by Monday, we’ll begin proceedings. Ticktock.”
“Is that all?” Lucian demands. “We’re growing tired of your games, Constantine. Get to the fucking point so we can eat in peace.”
I lean back in my chair, bringing my fingertips together and grin. “Settle in, boys, I’m just getting started.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ash
As soon as Winston left, I locked the door behind him, carried my bags upstairs, and began to explore his space since I have permission now. I’d been up here before under the premise of cleaning, but I’d been too nervous to properly snoop. Now I have the access I want.
I take my time checking out the other rooms once I’ve dropped my bags by his bedroom door. Each room is well-decorated. I’m sure he spends a fortune on an interior designer. When money is no option, you can have knickknacks that probably cost more than most people’s homes. I grow bored at looking at the other rooms, saving the best for last.