“I overheard you. In Dante’s office.” I clutched the purse in my lap for support. I wasn’t wearing tweed or neutrals today. Instead, I’d opted for a custom-tailored silk sheath and an extra coat of red lipstick for confidence.I should’ve put on two extra coats.
“If you overheard, then why waste my time by asking?” My father’s tone was as indecipherable as his face.
An ember of anger sparked to life.
“Because I want you to confirm it! Blackmail isillegal,Father, not to mention morally wrong. How could you do that?” I forced air past my tight chest. “Am I so undesirable you had toforcesomeone into marrying me?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he snapped. “It wasn’tanyone. It was Dante Russo. Do you know the doors marrying a Russo would open? Even with our wealth and your sister’s marriage, some people look down on us. They’ll invite us to their parties, and they’ll take our money for fundraisers, but they whisper behind our backs, Vivian. They think we’re not good enough. Marriage to Dante would’ve shut those whispers down immediately.”
“You blackmailed someone because of a fewwhispers?” I asked disbelievingly.
My father had always been conscious of his appearance and reputation. Even before we were rich, he’d stretch our budget and insist on paying for the table during get-togethers with his friends so he didn’t lose face.
But I never could’ve guessed his need for social validation ran this deep.
“The opportunity arose, and I took it,” he said coolly. “His brother was foolish and reckless. What were the chances I’d catch him with Gabriele Romano’s niece during a visit to New York?” An unrepentant shrug. “Fate put him in my path, and I took advantage of it forourfamily. I won’t apologize for that.”
“You could’ve chosen anyone else.” It was hard to hear over the buzz in my ears, but I pushed forward. “Someone who would’vewillinglyagreed to an arranged marriage.”
“Someone who would’ve willingly agreed wouldn’t have been good enough.”
“Do you hear yourself?” The embers fanned into flames. My fury came roaring back, so hot and bright it blurred my father’s face. “These are people’slives, not toys you can bend and manipulate. What if the photos leaked and Dante’s brother got killed? What ifyougot killed for holding onto the evidence? How could you be so…”Cruel. Callous. Morally corrupt. “Short-sighted? It’s not—”
“Don’t raise your voice at me!” My father slammed his hands on the desk so hard the items on it rattled. “I am your father. You donotspeak to me this way.”
My heart threatened to explode from my chest. “The father I knew would’ve never done this.”
The silence was so acute you could hear a moth flap its wings.
My father straightened and leaned back again. His gaze bore into me.
“You only have the luxury of caring about morals because ofme. I do what I have to do to make sure our family is protected and thebestit can be. You and your sister grew up sheltered, Vivian. You have no idea what it took for me to get to where I am today because I shielded you from the ugly truth. The number of people who laughed in my face and stabbed me in the back…it would make you sick. You think the world is rose-colored when it’s gray at best.”
“Protecting our family doesn’t mean destroying someone else’s. We don’t stoop that low, Father. It’s not who we are.”
The briefest shadow of remorse passed through his eyes before disappearing. “I’m the head of the family,” he said, his tone final. “We are who I say we are.”
The words touched my skin, cold and unfeeling. A shiver skated down my spine.
“And my relationship with Dante?” The clasp of my purse dug into my palm. “Did you not think how your actions would affect me? There’s a difference between an arranged marriage and a forced one. I would’ve had to spend my life with someone who resented me simply because you want his name in our family tree.”
“Don’t act like a martyr,” my father said. “It’s unbecoming. Your sister never complained about being married to Gunnar, andshehad to move to another country.”
“She doesn’t complain becausethey actually love each other.”
He continued like I hadn’t spoken. “There are worse things than being a billionaire’s wife. You’re young and charming. You would’ve worn Dante down eventually. In fact, he already seemed quite smitten with you over the holidays.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” I said flatly. “It’s over, Father. I moved out of Dante’s house. We’re not getting married. And…” I glanced out the window onto the main office floor. “The company isn’t doing well.”
Because you provoked someone you shouldn’t have.
The words sat unspoken between us.
My father’s jaw tightened. He hated being reminded things were less than perfect under his watch.
“The company will be fine.We’re merely experiencing a hiccup.”
“It sounds like more than a hiccup.”