CHAPTER 1
LILY
I don’t know if going to Sala is the best idea I’ve ever had or the worst. I’m pretty sure it’s the worst. I don’t think Constantino Agosti is a man I can trust, but I also can’t think of any other options. He did business with my dad and that’s going to have to be enough.
I try and swallow around the lump in my throat at the thought of my dad. He wasn’t a good man. Still, he doted on me and treated me like a princess. How I didn’t turn out to be some spoiled and selfish brat is a wonder. It probably has to do with all the time I spent with nannies because my father worked so much and didn’t understand the meaning of paternal.
I had my suspicions while I was growing up that my dad’s business wasn’t all legal. When he took me to a meeting with Constantino a few months ago, it confirmed that the Scavo empire is far from legal except for the front he hid behind. I’m the last Scavo and everyone in his organization is looking at me as if I’m going to take over and become some damn mafia queen. I don’t think I have it in me.
When getting my business degree, I took classes about ethics and doing things the right way. I’m not sure how to apply my knowledge to a business which doesn’t operate within the law. I’m torn about the whole thing.
Do I like that my dad was dealing in things I’ve only been able to scratch the surface of? No, not at all. At the same time, can I just dismantle the whole thing? The people who worked for my father, who now work for me, have families to take care of and mouths to feed.
Do they not need jobs just because not everything done to make money in the Scavo name was legal?
I don’t know the answer. I’m never going to find out on my own.
I think my father was starting to groom me for taking over which is why he took me to the meeting with Constantino in the first place. They didn’t discuss anything illegal. Even though I made it look like I wasn’t paying attention, I was hanging on every word.
It had nothing to do with how sexy Constantino is or how his deep voice makes me feel things I’ve never felt before with any other man, even the few men I’ve had relationships with. Well, it wasn’t the only reason, at least. Still, the tingles he caused to erupt over my skin from hearing him talk stayed with me long after the meeting concluded.
Dad seemed oblivious as Constantino watched me with his dark turquoise eyes. Very closely. It was like he could see right through me and the act I was trying to put on. I don’t know if he really could since they didn’t include me in the discussion.
My father might have been willing to get me ready to take over, but I he also thought women should be seen and not heard. Right before we entered Constantino’s office, my father turned to me, his voice low, “Remember, you need to listen and learn. Do not speak unless you’re spoken to. Mr. Agosti is directly under his brother and the second most powerful man in the city.”
What was I going to say or do? Stomp my foot like a toddler? Hell no, I graduated from the Wharton School and I’m a fucking adult. Did I cuss him out in my head? Yes.
Then again, it was a problem we often had because I had big opinions about a lot of things and have since I was young. No one encouraged them, least of all my nannies, but they were there all the same and I never backed down from anything.
Dad always told me I was too stubborn for my own good and as I get dressed to go to Sala, one of the nightclubs owned by the Agosti family which Constantino runs, I wonder if he was right. Although, asking for help is something I hate to do, I’m also determined as hell to not leave until I get what I want. I need to either get up to speed and figure out a way to turn everything my father had his fingers in legit, or I need to sell everything to someone who can run it.
I have a feeling Constantino, and his family, is the only option I have. Maybe if dad had introduced me to more people, I would have more options.
I wasn’t prepared for him being murdered, especially not at a party he was throwing for the business. I was the one who found him. The memory of his blood pooling around him from a gunshot wound and the scent of copper and iron surrounding me is one I won’t be rid of anytime soon. At first, I was in shock, screaming loud enough for others to come and investigate.
I didn’t know what to do or who to call. Not right then. All I could do was stare at his body and scream. Once one of the men who works for Dad pulled me from his office and the scene, my screaming stopped. Then I didn’t speak for two days.
What was there to say?
I was creeped out at the funeral where everyone seemed to want to hug me and speak to me, but I didn’t know who anyone was. I caught a glimpse of Constantino at the cemetery, but he didn’t speak to me, and he wasn’t at the service.
Seeing him is what gave me the idea to go to him for help. I certainly hadn’t forgotten meeting him but seeing him made mewantto go to him just as much as it helped me to realize Ineededto go to him and ask for help. I hate the thought of it, but the alternative is something I don’t want to consider.
When I’m dressed, looking much better than I feel, I head out of my apartment. When I moved back to New York, I told my father I wasn’t going to be moving home. He wasn’t happy.
I could hear the anger he was barely containing in his voice as he spat, “You are a young woman, and this city is dangerous. You will be coming home and living with me.”
I hated the penthouse I grew up in which is, in terms of New York real-estate, a fucking mansion. I just knew I would always have eyes on me. I didn’t understand it at the time but growing up a Scavo meant people feared me and my family name. I barely had any friends because of it and when I did get one, I was always a little worried it had more to do with my family’s wealth than with anything else.
I learned not to trust easily.
Dad’s home, if you can even call it that, was so fucking cold and inhospitable. It was more like a pristine museum than a home. You could almost hear the docent leading a tour through it, “And here you have the place where, again, Lily was never allowed to play. Look at how white everything is.”
Where I moved after graduation was the first time I ever got into a real argument with my dad. I had always relented before and I’m sure he thought I would do it about living with him as well. He was wrong.
I was full of fire, but still held my voice steady and calm, “I’m a grown woman now and I can’t live with you and start my own life.”
He scoffed and, looking back on the conversation, I wonder if the sound had to do more with me not capitulating or if it had more to do with him knowing my life was never my own.