Page 43 of Legacy
Santo.
The guy from the bar, he’s sitting beside an older man. A man Iknow.
Marcello Amato.
My father’s rival.
Fuck.
AngeloAmato.
How did I fuck this up?
I’m trapped in this room of glass and chrome, clinical and cold. The air is suffocating—thick with testosterone and unsaid threats.
“A woman?” Marcello chuckles. “You bring a woman into negotiations Castillo?”
“That’s my daughter, and you’ll address her with respect,” my father snaps. “Adriana leads the entire jewel port sector. Shecommandsit.”
I can’t look.
I stand behind my papá’s chair like a child.
I can feel Angelo’s eyes on me. I can tastethe tension.
“If you want an alliance Castillo we want in on that port.”
“Not without guarantee Adriana is still a part of it,” my father counters.
Marcello’s brow raises. “An arrangement then?”
My brows furrow.
Arrangement?
“That works. Adriana is eighteen.”
“Untouched?” Marcello asks and I almost die on the spot.
What the actual fuck! I’m not marrying that man.
“Of course,” my father answers like I’m cattle.
“Then I offer an arrangement of marriage with Santo,” Marcello responds.
I almost choke, my eyes flick to Angelo’s, but his are on his brother, whose head whips toward his father as he grits words out in Italian.
“Hush Santo,” Marcello says a hand raises in his direction. Santo’s jaw clenches and his dark gaze hits mine.
A shiver jolts down my spine.
He’s unsettling.
“Only a deal if we keep half ownership to the port,” my father speaks.
Marcello curses and slams his fists to the glass conference table.
Guns draw. The quiet click of triggers fills the room like a chorus of death notes. My pulse jumps as chrome barrels glint under the overhead lights.
