“Fuck them,” Marcus says. “They don’t like it, I’ll let them choose the bullet that gets loaded in my gun.”
My hands shake and I pull out a chair, needing to sit. Hell, the mess Marcus left between my legs doesn’t even bother me right now. I try to go over everything, try to remember the small snippets of information Gia taught me while I was here, but knowing that she had every intention of killing me kind of makes all of that information unreliable. I can’t trust anything I already know.
I’m the motherfucking queen of the Moretti empire.
I’m one of the richest, most powerful women walking the planet, and the second news gets out about this, I’ll also have the biggest target to ever exist on my back.
Shit.
Just another day in the life of Shayne Mariano … Moretti … DeAngelis.
Trying to come to terms with everything, I turn back to Agent Davidson and let him see the very real fear in my eyes. “What’s going to happen from here?”
“In Gia’s office, there is a pre-programmed cell phone. You will need to use that to call an urgent family meeting. Choose a time and date, the sooner the better as you can’t risk news of this getting out before you have a chance to introduce yourself. Family members will ask what the meeting is in regard to, but you must not say anything or give away your identity until they are here in this home.”
I nod, understanding all of that all too clear. “What happens at the meeting?”
“That’s up to you,” he says, raising his gaze to Roman’s. “Might I suggest that you three make yourselves sparse for this meeting. Your presence will not be tolerated.”
“Absolutely not,” Roman says. “Where Shayne goes, we go. They’ll have to drag us out of there.”
“Dragging won’t be your issue. It’ll be the bullet through your head that you’ll struggle with,” Agent Davidson says before shrugging his shoulders, not really giving a shit if the boys were to get hurt. They’ve made their decision, and it’s not up to Agent Davidson to change their minds. He’s given them fair warning and that’s all he needs to live with a clear conscience.
“Okay,” I say, thinking of the few meetings the boys held after running out their father. It can’t be much different than that. I just have to act like I belong until they finally accept it. “I think I can handle it.”
“The meeting isn’t your biggest problem,” Roman adds, making my head snap up as Agent Davidson’s brows furrow in confusion. “You’re legally married to my father,” he reminds me, as if I needed that bucket of cold water dumped over my head. Seeing the irritation in my eyes and clearly wanting me to understand something that I’m simply not getting, he walks across to me, crouching down in front of my seat and gripping my hands. “Your marriage to my father means that if you were to fall, the whole Moretti empire would legally be his. Do you understand what that means? What kind of power he would wield?”
Dread sinks heavily into my veins and all color washes from my face. “Holy shit,” I breathe, the weight of just how serious this is falling onto my shoulder. “I need to get this marriage annulled as soon as possible.”
“Exactly,” he tells me, a grim expression falling over his dark features. “And you need to do it without getting a bullet shot straight between your eyes.”
Well, fuck.
28
The formal dining room is packed with bodies, each of them more powerful than the next. My nerves are shot. I would be fine had this been a normal meeting with Gia not being a crazy psycho bitch and introducing her long-lost daughter to her family, but this is something much different. Plus, they’re already apprehensive due to the stack of bodies they passed by on their way to the door.
I’m not going to lie, the dead guards inside the foyer were nothing compared to the massacre Roman and Marcus created out on the lawn. I mean, daaaaamn. They worked hard. Marcus in particular. It was almost comical looking over the differences in the kills. Roman’s were quick kill shots, easy and less messy, where Marcus was carving initials and decapitating heads left, right, and center. Asshole was probably having the time of his life.
Come to think of it, I should have demanded that he showered before touching me.
Gross.
I stand with Agent Davidson and the boys in the sitting room adjoining the formal dining hall, and I hear them getting rowdier by the minute, wondering what this is all about. Hell, half of them are furious about the call that came through at four in the morning and are demanding answers, but they won’t be making demands from me.
I need to go into this with my head held high, and I need to lay down the law from the beginning, otherwise, they’ll never respect me, never see me as their true leader.
Crap. How are they supposed to see me as their leader when I barely see myself that way? This is going to be a shitshow, especially considering the boys walking in behind me. I need to be honest with the Moretti family about my relationship with the boys, and they’re going to have to learn to accept it, or they can walk. It’s not going to be easy, but I have to hope that the Moretti family is a little more lenient than the DeAngelis assholes the boys have to deal with on a daily basis.
Fuck me in the ass and call me Fred. This is going to be hell.
Agent Davidson pushes off the side of the small armchair. “It’s time,” he tells me, somehow holding his nerves better than anyone considering the fact that his cover has now been blown and he’s about to walk into a room full of powerful criminals, possible rapists, and murderers. His only hope is that word hasn’t spread about his identity, but considering we were the only ones in the room at the time, I doubt it. But who knows what ears could have been listening in, what conversations Gia’s security system caught. “You don’t want to keep these assholes waiting.”
My shoulders bounce with anticipation until Levi presses his hand over them and holds me still. “Professional bitches don’t bounce,” he tells me as his hand slips around to my chin and forces it up. “Chin high, shoulders back, and use that tone you use on Marcus when putting him in his place. They’ll have no fucking idea that you’re riddled with nerves.”
“Easier said than done,” I tell him, certain that he knows the feeling all too well. I move across the room, my eyes tired but my body alive with nerves. “Let’s do this.”
Finding the courage deep inside of me, I push through the big double doors and enter the crowded dining room. Men in expensive suits fill every space, and as I make my entrance known, every single one of their eyes fall to me.