Page 4 of Sinister Intentions

Not anymore.

I would create a life of my own design. And I was willing to do whatever was necessary to get the freedom to do so.

Starting with finding a way to prevent my father and Vincenzo Salvini from going through with this sinister plan.

A heavy knock on the door made me flinch, and my heart slammed against my rib cage. Instinctively, I squared my shoulders, bracing myself for battle.

“Come in,” my father said and sent me a warning look.

The door swung open, and there he stood—Vincenzo Salvini himself—filling the doorway with his ominous presence.

He stepped into the room, and it felt like shadows stretched across the floor in his wake. His dark eyes scanned the room, then settled on me with disturbing focus.

I crossed my arms and lifted my chin in a silent challenge. If he thought he was dealing with some trembling damsel in distress, ready to just fall in line, he was thoroughly mistaken.

My action earlier was a tactical retreat, not me running from him.

My father rose from behind his desk, a practiced smile curving his lips.

What a farce.

“Vince,” he said smoothly as if they were discussing business over tea rather than bartering with my life.

“Craig,” Salvini replied with a nod that seemed more military than cordial.

Behind Salvini, Matt entered.

Silence stretched, and the tension in the room ratcheted up a notch as nobody said another word.

Then Salvini turned to me.

His intensity sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. But I wouldn’t cower; I couldn’t afford to show weakness—not for a single second. I narrowed my eyes and scowled at him.

“Fee and Alex will stay for a while,” he said as if my cousin’s and her husband’s presence was of any consequence to what was going on in here. Then he turned to my father. “I think we talked about everything we needed to talk about. I’ll take care of the rest.”

My father narrowed his brows, held Salvini’s gaze, then nodded once.

I sucked in air through my teeth. He would take care of the rest? Like deciding on my future without me? “No fucking way.”

My father’s head shot around to me. “Watch your language.”

I scoffed. “My language isn’t the problem here,” I said, then glared at him. “You’re not going through with this, right? This is my life you’re talking about.” Thank God my voice remained steady despite the internal chaos threatening to spill over.

“It’s done. Don’t waste your energy.” Salvini’s voice was low and deceptively flat.

I turned my gaze to him and narrowed my eyes. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

I could see his brows lower. He was getting pissed, which was only fair since I was way beyond pissed already.

“Jemma,” my father growled, then nodded at two of his men who stood at the door.

They approached me, grabbed my arms, and pulled me across the room toward the exit.

Seriously? Now, I was the one being dragged out of the room when the true and only villain in this story was Salvini and Salvini alone.

I scoffed, truly done.

Salvini’s gaze didn’t waver as he watched me being dragged out of my father’s office.

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