Page 2 of Seeking Vengeance

I fight against the discomfort of having my back to the room and take another sip, making sure my shoulders appear relaxed as my waitress escorts them to the table behind me, just as I anticipated.

Goose bumps whisper along my arms, all the way to my nape. I feel naked, my little black dress suddenly nothing but a slip of material as the gentle breeze of the air conditioner kisses my exposed skin.

I’m hidden, though, unrecognizable beneath the colored contacts, fake glasses, and long-flowing blonde wig. Even if we do come face-to-face, I doubt they will recognize me.

I hold the wine glass to my lips and tilt my gaze to the window, discreetly watching them in the reflection as they sit at the round table, all of them exuding an air of snobbery.

There’s Emmanuel Costa. His wife, Adena. The younger men I know to be his sons—Salvatore and Remy. Then closest to me is Abri, his viper of a daughter, whose back is parallel to mine.

“We will have to make this a quick meal,” Salvatore mutters. “I have plans tonight.”

“Plans with who?” his mother asks. “A woman? Have you met someone?”

I listen intently, hoping for the details of his rendezvous, my heart beating heavy against my ribs. Lovers provide vulnerabilities. I learned that lesson the hard way.

The waitress approaches in my periphery, her increased proximity dragging my attention from precious seconds of information. “Are you ready to order, ma’am?”

“Can I have a little more time?” I keep my voice low, hoping she’ll allow me to drag out my stay for as long as possible. “If you could give me five more minutes that would be appreciated.”

She nods, her smile forced as she saunters away.

I spare a second to properly read the menu, picking a few items before I return my attention to the window, my ear cocked toward Emmanuel’s table as I drink in their secrets with each sip of wine.

“We need to tighten our distribution channels,” Emmanuel advises in accented English. “We have weak links that will cost us greatly if they’re not handled.”

“They’ll be handled,” Remy replies. “They’re always handled.”

“Not always. There was the issue with border security two years ago—”

“And you’ve never let us forget it. Since then, everything has been tight. We take care of any cracks that surface.”

It’s clear they’re not talking about distribution for items in their designer fashion label. When our worlds collided years ago, it had been because Emmanuel wanted to diversify from their clothing empire and force my brother into a partnership revolving around my family’s drug trade.

I guess they paved their own way. Or found a sucker to swindle to show them the ropes.

“How about you, Abri?” Emmanuel asks. “Have you done what was asked of you?”

“If you mean, have I sowed the seed for you to blackmail your latest target, then the answer is no.” Her voice is a velvety purr, the confident drawl holding the faintest undertone of resentment. “He’s proving to be a hard man to deceive.”

“Well, try harder. You don’t have the luxury of—”

“Can wepleaseleave the topic of business for later?” Adena asks. “I want to hear about more important things like when my children will bless me with grandbabies.”

Someone sighs. There’s a groan, too.

“I’m happy to be artificially inseminated, mother,” Abri snips. “But it will become increasingly harder for me to extort and manipulate men if I have a child on my hip. And then what value would I have to you?”

“Don’t start,” Emmanuel mutters under his breath. “Your lack of gratitude is beginning to grate my last nerve.”

“And being constantly leashed by my father has long since grated away all of mine.”

Silence follows. Tense, palpable silence for several heartbeats.

I don’t need to search for Abri’s lethal glare through the reflection in the glass. I feel it.

Pretty little bitch can’t cut the parental ties. What a shame.

“Control yourself.” Salvatore snarls the warning. “You’re starting to make a scene and—”

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