Page 58 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

I tell her that I want a female lead security detail. She says that although there's a high demand and short supply for that, she'll do everything in her power to organize it for me as the sister of an already trusted client. She asks me to give her a few days before she gets back to me. She needs to go over the recruitment program and see what the numbers look like. I thank Cassie for her help and hang up. Then I turn to the taxi driver.

“Take the left, here, quickly,” I say. He does as I ask, tearing around the corner, driving in the crazy way I've noticed quite a few taxi drivers do. That works for me. A crazy taxi driver is just what I need for this next task.

“Someone is following me. They are in a black SUV behind us.” His face in the rearview mirror tightens, and his eyes widen. “There's no need for any alarm,” I tell him. “It's my security detail, but I want to lose them.”

“Why would you want to lose your security detail?” he asks.

“Because they are provided by a man I hate.”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he shrugs. “Fair enough; it's not my place to ask. I'll try my best.”

“I've changed my mind about where I'm going,” I tell him. When I ordered the cab, I gave the address for my apartment in Windsor. I'm not going to go there now as it is too easy for Matteo to follow me there. He wouldn't dare turn up at my family home, however. As much as I hate the idea of going back home to my dear parents, right now it seems like the best option. I rattle off the new address to the taxi driver and tell him to take a few right and left turns down these country lanes. Once I am sure we’ve lost our tail, I give him instructions to head to the Andretti home.

We arrive a short while later. I knock on the door, and the maid answers. I smile at her warmly. “Is my mother in?” I ask. “May I speak with her?”

“Of course,” she says.

She goes to fetch Mamma, and I stand in the hallway of my childhood home as if I’m a stranger.

That's the way it's always felt for me, being part of this family. I never fitted, not really. Nico was the golden child, and I was the disappointment. Nico might believe our father loves me more than him just because he never gave me the same sort of discipline that he gave Nico, but in a strange way, at least he gave Nico attention. I was always disregarded. Never focused on, as anything other than the pretty girl who would grow up and marry someone and give them heirs. The only way I would be of any value to my family is if I popped out a son, and I'm determined never to do that for them.

Mamma sweeps into the hallway and gives me a chilly smile. Her hair is swept up into a stylish chignon. Her face is carefully made-up, and as she embraces me briefly, the scent of something expensive with vanilla undertones washes over me.

“Darling,” she says. “What a surprise. We weren't expecting you.”

“We need to talk,” I tell her. “Is Angela here?”

She frowns in confusion. “Of course she's not here; why would she be here? It's the weekend.”

“I thought she was your new bestie and confidante,” I say sarcastically.

Mamma sighs in that long suffering manner she has whenever she's dealing with me, and she leads me into the more formal of our two sitting rooms.

“Why the formality?” I ask.

She sighs again. “I presume you want to talk in confidence, and your father is in the other room.”

“We could go and sit in the den,” I suggest.

Her mouth tightens into a thin line. “That room is disgusting,” she says. “Your father was in there last night watching movies, and it stinks of popcorn.”

“Not watching movies?” I say with fake horror. “How utterly disgusting.”

I can see her visibly fighting to suppress the eye roll at my sarcasm. “Darling, I have quite a busy day ahead of me, so why don't you spit out whatever it is that you've come to say.”

I stare at her for a long moment. This is it. This is the moment where I either take down my family, or I tell my mother the truth about what I believe Matteo is doing.

“I have some information for you,” I tell her, my mind working as I speak.

“Yes?” She leans forward, head cocked to one side, waiting. She reminds me of a baby bird waiting for the parents to drop food in its mouth.

“Oh no, you don't just get it. It will cost.”

She barks out a shrill laugh. “Are you blackmailing your own family?”

“Oh, don't look so shocked, Mamma. You've all been blackmailing me for years one way or another. I will share this information, if I get ten percent share of the company and a vote on the board. And trust me when I tell you it's worth it.”

My heart is pounding rapidly, but I sit with calm indifference. She can't make that decision, and she knows it. By me giving her the option, I’ve humiliated her because she's going to have to go and ask our father.

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