Page 32 of Wicked Rivals

But I knew he went to great pains to hide his illness, and he’d taken the only chair with a back high enough to keep him from slumping over.

I didn’t have the energy to berate him for maintaining his facade while inside my home.

He successfully maintained the ruse, just not with me.

The man would be on his way out soon enough.

For the second time that day, I stripped off a white shirt ruined with bloodstains, this time my blood, and sat in another chair, so Dr. Avery could get to work.

Then I responded to my future father-in-law’s daring comment and ignored the sting from the doctor’s poking and prodding around the bullet hole in my arm.

“I’m surprised to hear you think I owe you anything.”

“Do you think my daughter deserves to be treated with such disrespect?”

He paused before continuing, still unmoving in my chair.

“You’re to marry her in two days, Stefano, and no one knew about the bastard you’ve been hiding in Brooklyn. Now you have him and his mother in your home, and everything’s supposed to carry on as usual, is it? People are going to talk.

“And it won’t be about how lovely the wedding was or what a wonderful couple you and my daughter make. You owe me quite an explanation, especially since you clearly intend on housing your own shameful secret under the same roof you intend to share with your wife once?—”

I spun too quickly toward the dying man sitting behind my desk to cut him off, forcing the doc to scramble to keep up with my arm.

“Who I choose to house under my roof is not your concern.”

If I didn’t need the medical attention, I probably would have been on my feet, towering over this small, ailing man, reminding him exactly who he was dealing with.

The threat of violence wasn’t necessary with Capaldo anyway. He was too weak.

“You have some secrets of your own, Don Capaldo,” I added. “Maybe that slipped your mind while you’ve been so interested in my affairs. We both know why you’re eager to marry off your daughter as quickly as possible. If I were you, I would rethink your attempts to lecture me or renegotiate our arrangement.”

I gnashed my teeth through the pain from the doc digging around in my flesh with a metal instrument to find the slug I’d been carrying around in there.

Then I refocused on Capaldo with a biting glare.

“And don’t ever call me ‘son’ again.”

“Do you think you’re worthy of my daughter?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulder.

“You’re about two years too late to worry about my worth. But if you’re changing your mind about our arrangement now, then call it off. I won’t hold you to our contract.”

Muffled choking and wheezing came from the living skeleton sitting in my chair.

“What? That’s not… I…”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m sure you can find a suitable replacement for Benedetta’s hand before the cancer finishes what it started. Of course, that won’t mitigate all your problems. People will still talk. Only in this scenario, they’ll be talking about the bride and what she must have done to disgrace herself so badly.

“Very few things are worth calling off a wedding at the last minute. Unfortunately, the families have always been quick to blame the bride in situations like this. That hasn’t changed. It isn’t fair, and it won’t change as quickly as you need it to, now that you’ve changed your mind about me.”

I shifted again in my seat to face him more fully, almost smiling at the simplicity of how easy it was to silence him.

“So tell me, Don Capaldo, do you think you can find another suitable man for Benedetta in time? More importantly, I think, what will happen if you don’t?”

Capaldo looked me up and down for a few seconds, then slammed the crystal whiskey tumbler on the desk. The liquor sloshed over the side, splattering across the wood surface, but he paid it no mind.

I thought maybe I heard his bones creaking as he threw himself out of the chair and marched across the room without a word or even a glance in my direction.

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