Page 33 of Maddest Temptation

I stared Donato down until he looked away, and still I looked. What was his play here? Why accuse a dead man of treason? Why did he want his daughter so much?

Money.

I knew that, but why did Donato need the money if he was already the second richest family in the Outfit—behind mine?

“There is one more thing,”

I groaned inwardly. “Yes.”

“I intend for Francesca to be married as soon as her mourning period is over. She should not be on her own.”

My guts twisted so painfully that I was forced to shift in my chair. “Marry her?” The words sounded pathetically weak.

He nodded. “I already have someone in mind, the deal is still on hold, but she will be married by the end of the year.”

“That is before her mourning period is over.” I pointed, fists clenched and jaws tight.

“A few months here and there won’t make a difference.” Donato shrugged.

This was the one thing I couldn’t stop him from doing. As Capo, I had power over many things, but not this. I couldn’t intervene in family business, not even if I desired to.

“If she’s sick as you pointed out, then maybe you should wait.” I sounded desperate and it made me angry at myself.

“Francesca needs a man in her life, someone to lead her and tell her what to do. Alone, she will only self-destruct.”

He wasn’t wrong there. Francesca had always been a people’s person. Always flourished when she was around others, but her marriage to Paolo had broken her. What would happen if she married again, to a man just as vile as the first?

“Are you seeking my blessing?” I tried to keep my voice calm. If he was, he wouldn’t find it here.

Donato pondered it for a while, then shook his head. “I only thought it would be the right thing to do, warn my Capo,” he explained.

“Who is she to be married to?” I asked out of curiosity.

Donato smiled. “I’d rather not ruin the surprise.”

I could order him to say the name of the man who was going to marry Francesca before the year was over, but I felt awfully sick and wanted this conversation to end. So instead of looking further into it, I reminded myself that Francesca was not mine. That she hated me and would never want anything to do with me— not after I broke her heart. So, I let the subject go.

Donato left my office leaving those thoughts marinating in my head, and they started to give me indigestion. I couldn’t stop analyzing every angle.

I knew Paolo and Donato had become estranged over the years. That had been one of the reasons Francesca never visited Chicago. Something had drawn them apart, and I needed to figure out what it was. And there was only one person who could help me with that. The one person I had promised to not see again, and the one person I was desperately wanting to.

Instead of leaving my office and doing something crazy, I called my brother. This time, Vitelli picked up on the third ring.

“I want Paolo’s bank statement and everything he has invested in in the last few years,” I told Vitelli.

“Well, hello to you, too,” he teased.

I took a deep sigh. “Just send it to my phone when you have it.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“And tomorrow is Monday and the day after is Tuesday. I’m aware of the days in a week.”

“You want them now?”

“Yes, and you’re already late.”I traced my fingers against the edge of the table.

“This smells like trouble.” It didn’t smell, it was trouble.

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