“Don’t rush it. The longer we take, the angrier Lorenzo will be.” The corner of his mouth lifts in an evil grin. “The angrier he is, the easier it will be to rile him up and cause him to slip.”
I chuckle. “And here I thought you were coming to my rescue. Really, it’s all for show.”
“It’s all a show,” he says, only I see something flicker in his eyes, like he doesn’t really believe what he says. “Ready?”
I nod and hide my shock when his fingers skim down my arm and he takes my hand in his. A united front, we pretend to be. Lorenzo’s men are at the door of the house waiting for us. I don’t recognize any of them. I have small hopes of seeing my bodyguard, Sonny, again.
I fear he’s been found out. If that is the case, I’ll never see him again. I swallow and squeeze Stone’s hand as we’re led through the familiar halls of my childhood home.
No, it was never a home. A prison. I feel more at home at Stone’s house.
Here, I was never allowed to be myself. Educated by tutors, never seen or spoken to. I was locked in a cage and treated like an inmate instead of a daughter.
I accused Stone more than once of treating me and his men like animals. Maybe he had at times, but it was better than a prisoner. When we enter the conference room off Lorenzo’s office, I feel Stone’s hand flinch in mine. I glance at his profile.
He shows no reaction. No emotion. On outward appearances, it’s as if he expects the meeting to bore him completely. Only I can feel the tension in his hand. The rest of his body is relaxed.
“Callista. It’s true. You’re alive.”
“It’s Gia. Or you can call me Mrs. Parlatore.”
Stone strokes his thumb across the back of my hand before releasing it and pulling out a chair for me. I take it and cross my legs, sitting up straight, hoping Lorenzo can’t see how fast my heart is racing.
My father has aged significantly. He’s always been a big, robust man, but he’s put on more weight, his hair has thinned and turned more salt and less pepper. There’s no love lost between us. We never had a relationship. Unless you count mutual hatred.
Another man enters the room and sits next to Lorenzo.
Antonio.At fifteen years my senior, he’s always looked old to me, but he too has aged significantly since I left. He still has a full head of dark hair, his eyes a cold, hard black, and a slimy smile that always makes me want to throw up.
He isn’t fit like Stone but isn’t as big as my father either. Somewhere in between. He grins at me, and my skin feels like worms are suddenly snaking their way up and down my arms. “You look beautiful as always, Callista.”
“It’s Mrs. Parlatore,” Stone says. “And you don’t have permission to speak to her.”
Shit. Not even ten seconds into the meeting and Stone is already out of character.
Antonio laughs. “I don’t suppose she has permission to speak unless you allow as well? With a wife as beautiful as her, you must keep her leash incredibly short. I don’t blame you one bit.”
Stone flinches. I react without thinking. “Unlike you, my husband doesn’t need a leash to keep a woman.”
Lorenzo interrupts. “Enough. We’re here to discuss business.” He introduces three other men at the table. Their names are unfamiliar to me. I still don’t understand what the meeting is about.
“I’ll be facilitating the meeting, Parisi,” Stone says, leaning forward and setting a briefcase on the table. He pulls out five files and passes them around the table. “As you can see, Mrs. Gia Parlatore, formally known as Callista Parisi, owns thirty percent of the shares. I own twenty-one percent. Together, we have control over Parisi Wines.”
“That’s bullshit,” Lorenzo exclaims, slamming his fists on the table. “None of my shareholders own that much.”
“Not until recently. You’ll note I’ve acquired those shares over the past eighteen months.”
“Callista doesn’t have access to her thirty percent.”
“Not while you presumed her dead, no. A death certificate was never filed, thus leaving the shares in her name. In our name.”
“They’re not in your name, Parlatore,” Antonio says. “You own twenty-one percent. You have no say here.”
“And your fourteen percent gives you the right to absolutely nothing.” Stone takes out another paper and slides copies across the table. “My wife signed her shares over to me as a wedding gift. This puts me in control of the company and gives me the right to access all the files and the grounds, including your estate since you list it as a business expense and not a private home.”
The color drains from Lorenzo’s face. “Everyone out. Now.” The silent partners get up and leave. “You too, Antonio.”
Antonio sputters something, whispering harshly in Lorenzo’s ear. Lorenzo keeps his razor-sharp glare on Stone, who returns it in kind.