Page 83 of Becoming His Pet

“Your father came to me with his suspicions. I gave him my word I would look into it, but before I could get solid information, Bernie had him killed. But I couldn’t prove it, it was just a gut feeling. I can’t kill a man of his level on just a gut feeling. It looked like Antonio was going to take the heat for it—at least rumor wise. But then you went to the flower shop looking for a job.”

“I didn’t think he’d know who I was.”

Victor laughed softly. “Elenora, you look too much like your father with those eyes and that stubborn streak of yours to not be recognizable to someone who knew him. Antonio knew who you were; he gave you the job to keep an eye on you. To keep you safe.”

Nora sat back in her chair, the wind having been knocked right out of her.

“It seems everyone around me knew what the hell was going on in my life, except me.”

Victor’s smile dropped. “Yes. It does look that way. But understand, your father wanted you protected from all of this. He never wanted you to know me, or anyone. Bernie—well, he trusted Bernie.”

“Bernie said my mother died, was he lying to me?” She leaned closer toward him. Hope burning through her chest, pounding in her ears, while she waited for him to tell her she would see her mother. She wanted to hear these words, needed to hear them. Something good had to come out of all the bad she’d been through.

“I’m sorry, Elenora, no. He wasn’t lying. That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about when I asked you here.”

Greg reached over and grabbed her hand again. More gentleness. She didn’t shake him off, but she wanted to. She wanted to yell at him to go back to being the asshole she knew from the cabin. The unrelenting strong force she had come to depend on.

“I have found her resting place and would like to take care of giving her a proper service. I will make all the arrangements. I assume you’d like her placed beside your father?”

Tears burned Nora’s eyes. She’d never known her mother. Had already thought her dead until a few days ago. Why should it hurt so much now?

“Yes.” She wiped her hand across her eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. “That would be nice.”

“I know that no amount of money could ever replace your father and mother or fix what you’ve gone through over the past week, but I’m making arrangements to be certain you are well cared for.”

“She’s going to be cared for, I won’t let anything happen to her,” Greg spoke up.

Victor looked over at him, his gaze narrowing before his lips cracked into a smile. “I have no doubt about that. Nikko told me about you. Stubborn to a fault and a damn good leader. Born to it, he said. But I’m talking about money.”

“I don’t want your money,” Nora said in a hard tone. She wanted her father back. She wanted her damn mother. Just one memory, she wanted one memory of her mother. “It won’t fix anything. How much horror my mother lived with can’t be taken back with money.”

Victor nodded sadly. “Your mother will be avenged, Elenora. I’m seeing to that personally.”

“Avenged doesn’t bring her back,” Nora said.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Silence stretched across the table.

“All I can do is help you for the future. And with or without your permission, that’s happening.” Victor turned to Greg. “I’ve opened an account in her name. It will be replenished on a monthly basis. She never went to college; if she would like to attend, I just need to know what school and it will be taken care of.”

“Why would you do all that?” Nora asked, astounded by the generosity of Victor’s guilt.

“Because I have a daughter. And your father was a good man.” Victor patted her hand. “Before Antonio was killed, he told me you enjoyed working with flowers. The business was just a little front, but you knew that. He said you were constantly making it better, wanting to bring in new business, make better arrangements.”

“If you’re going to do something, do it right.” Nora quoted her father.

“The flower shop is yours if you want it,” Victor announced.

“No,” Greg said flatly.

Nora shot him a look. Now he decides to bring in that dark voice of his. “Well, wait—”

“No. I’m sorry, Mr. Santinelli, that’s a very generous offer, but she won’t be working for your family in any capacity.” Greg’s tone might as well have been a size fifteen boot stomping on the ground.

Victor looked him over with a steely gaze, then nodded in agreement. “I can understand that.”

“Again. Maybe I should be the one to decide—”

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