Page 18 of Bones of Revenge and Reckoning

Sadly, Bianca Mancini died not long afterward. Then Aldo, her father, died. Alberto is now old and infirm, and that means Matteo and his cousin Clifford will be running things. I don’t trust anyone in either family, and I would love one day to bring them both down. I have fantasies where I imagine walking into the boardroom and being the new secretive shareholder who now holds sway. I have the money to do it if I wanted, but that’s a step too far.

What I don’t have is the guts, not when it comes right down to it. It’s a terrifying thought to think your own brother would put you in the ground, but I do fear, in my darker moments, that Nico might do anything to stop me from having my say.

Then again, he’s definitely softer now that he’s with Cindy. There are times when I see sparks of humanity in him I didn’t believe existed. That might be good for me if he uncovers my plans.

The handsome man smirks at me, and I roll my eyes. He frowns and then shakes his head and looks away. If only he knew that the men who get entangled with me seem to be meeting surprising accidents.

Is it my brother? God, I wish I knew. It would give me a clue as to what my fate might be when Nico finds out about my meddling. At some point, I’m sure James will be sent to speak to the CEO of the secretive finance organization that is slowly buying shares in the Andretti business, and he’ll find himself face to face with me. I’m not trying to take over the business. No, I just want a vote. I want on the board.

I want a fucking say.

The one thing I’ve wanted my entire life.

Power. A little at least. Or maybe, I just want recognition.

James has said he wants to talk to me about a way I can be involved in the family business. He said it’s to do with importing luxury goods and sent me a link in the email to some socialist eco-lunatics in Italy who hand-make bags and other goods.

Handbags.

He and Nico think they can buy me off with a little handbag business, do they?

“Fucking men,” I growl under my breath.

“Yeah, we’re the pits, aren’t we?”

I glance in surprise at the seat next to mine at the bar. I was so lost in my own world, I didn’t see anyone take it.

He’s not a banker or a financier of any sort. He’s too rugged. I appraise him. “You don’t fit in here,” I say.

“Ouch.”

“God, no. It’s a compliment. Everyone in this place is an asshole.”

“Does that include you?” He smiles at me. It’s a warm smile, and he has a nice face. Not handsome, but attractive for sure.

Better still, he’s blond. I don’t go for dark men anymore. Not after a boy with floppy, black-brown hair, and eyes the color of dark coffee ruined my life.

“It most definitely includes me,” I say with a smile. “I’m probably the biggest asshole of them all.”

“Are you a banker?” he asks with a bit of a scowl.

“God, no. You?” I already know he’s not.

“Fuck no. Why are you in a banker’s bar then?” His gaze is direct and a little challenging. I like that.

“I might be buying a house around the corner from here. Then again, if all the local watering holes are like this, I might change my mind.” I sip at my cocktail. “Why are you here?”

He sighs. “I came here to try to get extra finance for my family farm, but they turned me down. It looks like we might lose it all.”

He rubs at the deep line between his brows as if he can erase it. “I failed them.” His words are soft.

“Nah, you didn’t fail them. This fucked up system did.” I give him a soft smile.

A sad smile tips the corner of his lip. “Do you want to see it?” he asks. “The farm.”

I nod.

He takes out his phone and swipes a few times before handing it to me. “Just swipe right. It’s all pictures of the farm.”

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