Page 21 of Bloodlust

But he can't take my crown.

Not without cause.

"Ready?" Zoey nods at my family home, her face illuminated by the moonlight. "Don't be nervous, Cami, you got this!"

"I'm fine." I take in the slate-roofed brick Georgian-style manor that sits on over fifteen acres of land. Tennis courts, pools, stables. This well-maintained piece of the Bianco legacy has everything a person needs.

Except it's in Long fucking Island.

My father tried to convince me to move here once he and my mother left.All of this is yours now, Camilla. Claim your birthright. I couldn't have saidnofaster. The estate is in the middle of nowhere. Secluded. Private. Excessive for one person. My father adored this place. Barely left. But he had my mother. He wasn't alone.

"Welcome home, Miss Bianco," Paulina, ourhousekeeper says, opening the front door for me and Zoey. She smiles at Frankie, giving him a playful grin. "I see you're still fat and old."

"I see you're still single and a bitch," Frankie snaps back, glaring at Paulina. "Is that a grey hair on your head?" He clicks his tongue. "Guess we're both old now."

"I'd rather be a bitch than a bastard," Paulina scoffs, tucking a thick piece of hair behind her ear. "And there is no problem with aging gracefully."

"Graceful?" Frankie snorts as we step inside the manor. "Yeah, you're a regular prima ballerina." He glances at me, whispering. "Ask her about what happened to the Picasso in the study."

"What happened?" I purse my lips as I look at Paulina, a stream of nervous giggles tumbling out of her mouth. "Paula..."

"Ignore him," she says, waving me off as she leads us to the boardroom. Oh fuck. She totally scratched it, didn't she? "He's practically senile. Head's not working right." She laughs to herself. "Both heads, I'm guessing."

"Hey," Frankie calls from behind. Here we go again. It's endless. The bickering. But a nice distraction. "Don't talk about my dick! You lost that right when you wouldn't marry me twenty years ago!"

Paulina rolls her brown eyes. "You were an alcoholic and smelled like shit." She cranes her neck over her shoulder, smugly smirking at Frankie. "It's nice to see that not much has changed."

"Once a bitch, always a bitch," Frankie huffs. "Sometimes I forget why I wanted you for life."

"Because I fuck better than I cook," Paulinareplies with a proud smile, pausing in front of the double wooden doors. She glances at me. "Are you okay, bambina?"

My heart races. Breathe.

"And I'm sure it would be like fucking baby powder now," Frankie counters, giving her a challenging look. "Or sandpaper." He shivers. "Oof."

"Shut your mouth, big ogre," Paulina states, sensing my nerves. She places a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Camilla, it is just a meeting. Nothing more."

"The second in two months," I mumble, hating the sympathetic stares from Zoey and Frankie. I shake off the onset of anxiety. "I'm fine. Open the doors."

"We'll be out here if you need anything," Zoey whispers, squeezing my hand briefly as the doors creak open.

I nod, stepping inside the boardroom. A chill seizes my spine as ten sets of eyes narrow in on me. They're here. All of them. Examining. Judging. Scheming. I sweep the seats around the table, noticing the empty spot at the head. My gaze darts to the seat on the right. Leo. Well, it's nice that he somewhat knows his place. For now.

"Good evening, gentlemen," I say, my tone even and confidently veiled from all fear. I maintain eye contact as I round the sturdy oval table.

"You are late," Moe, our financial controller, states, taking a puff from his cigar as he glares at me. Strike one. "We've been waiting almost an hour."

"I'm not late." I pull out the chair and take a seat. I slam my purse on the table, scanning the room, the loud bang drawing everyone's attention. "You're all just...early."

"We are busy men, Camilla," Enzo says, glancing at his son. Leo remains passive, his features flat as he doesn't react. "Perhaps next time, you too may be...early."

"Since we areallquite busy, why don't we skip to why you're all here then." I snap my fingers at the butler standing in the corner. He scurries away to the bar to fetch me a drink. "Well? Who wants to start?"

Enzo clears his throat, side-eyeing the rest of The Council before saying, "We have concerns."

I clench my fist. "Is that so? And what might those concerns be?"

"There aremany," Moe pipes up from across the table, his tone drenched with disgust. "But today we will only address three."

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