Men like Nero have no limits.
When I finally get out ofthe shower, I feel somewhat human again. I step back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my body and find that somebody’s been there: Clothes are waiting, laid out on the bed.
I move closer. There’s tasteful lingerie, and a breezy designer sundress with a daisy print on it, the kind of thing I would have worn in my old life. Silk, lace, sophistication… The style of clothes I haven’t been able to afford in, well, ever. Nostalgia washes over me as I pull it on, tightening the belt around my waist. There are even strappy sandals in a matching yellow, the sizing all perfect. Looking in the mirror, it’s like staring at a ghost:
Lily Fordham, designer debutante.
Is this who Nero thinks I still am?
I decide that I’m not waiting around for him, so I pull my damp hair into a loose braid and venture out of the bedroom. The hallway opens up, and I find myself standing in a huge loft space. The apartment is massive, taking over what must be a full floor with industrial-chic vibes: High ceilings, exposed brick, and tall windows that show a fantastic view of the city.
I pause, thrown. The place is stylish and masculine, and clearly expensive, but what was I expecting? The Barretti family has made a fortune from their criminal empire, and Nero is the heir to everything. Of course he’s living in luxury.
Luxury bought in blood.
I hear voices and walk toward them, passing the open kitchen and living room space until I reach a door that’s been left ajar. I know I’m pushing my luck, but I press my face close and peer inside.
It’s an office, with a huge glass desk and walls of bookcases. Nero is lounging behind the desk, talking to two other men and a woman. I recognize Chase, of course, and the woman, Avery. She’s about my age and was raised in the Barretti organization. She sits, expression alert as the other man speaks.
“It’s not going to be easy,” he’s saying. He has brown hair, and a serious look about him, wearing a pair of glasses as he consults a yellow legal pad. “McKenna’s people keep refusing a meeting.”
“You told them what it was for?” Nero asks.
“I said we were interested in donating to his campaign, discussing his reelection efforts, everything,” the man says. “But no luck. He’s blowing us off.”
“Me, you mean,” Nero rakes a hand through his hair, looking pissed. “Since when do politicians have standards?”
Politicians?I put two and two together, and figure he must be talking about Ian McKenna, a rising star in the New York political scene. I’ve seen articles about him in the papers, but what does Nero want with him?
“Miles could try again,” Avery offers. “Try some kind of charity approach. Maybe set up a dummy corporation to put some distance between you.”
Nero shakes his head. “I don’t want distance. I need to get in the same room as the man.
The future of the organization depends on his vote.”
Chase shrugs, seeming unconcerned. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has their price. We’ll get him.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that.
All eyes turn to the door. Busted. I try to pretend I’m unphased as Nero’s eyes rake over me. I want some reaction to my new outfit, but I don’t get one.
“What’s so funny?” he demands.
“You’re talking about Ian McKenna, right?” I ask, and he just gives a curt nod in response. “That guy won’t touch your money.”
“Why the hell not?” Nero’s voice is defensive, as if I’ve offended him. “He’s too pure? He’s a goddamn politician. They’re all the same.”
“Perhaps,” I give a shrug. “Chase was right—for a change. They all have a price. But not in the same way. And Ian McKenna wouldn’t care less about a briefcase of your dirty cash, that’s not how you can buy him.”
Nero narrows his eyes at me. “Explain.”
My pulse kicks. He’s interested. Curious. And every moment he’s listening to what I have to say, he’s not thinking about how my family betrayed him.
“Did you do a moment of research on this guy?” I ask, looking around the room.
“Of course,” the serious guy—Miles—protests. “I looked into his background, policy goals—”
“But did you look at the PR?” I cut him off. “The guy posed for a two-page spread in People magazine with his wife and dog. He’s working on a book. He went on Oprah, for God’s sake.”