Page 7 of Captured Fantasy

The office was made of shiny, light wood, the floor covered in a bearskin rug. The air conditioning ran full blast, making goosebumps rise on my damp skin and the ceiling fan whirred away overhead.

In the middle of the room was a large desk occupied by Federico, his long body stretched out like a great cat. On his other side, relaxed in an armchair in the corner, was Lucien Esposito, the boss’s right hand. When I walked in, he lifted his ice cold, hazel gaze and gave me a hard, uninterested stare .

Amadeo flopped into the chair by the desk and started rifling through some papers. I lingered in front of the desk as Federico sat with his hand out, waiting for Amadeo to find whatever it was he was looking for. There was a faint scowl on Federico’s face and it sent a shiver of dread through me.

“Okay, here it is,” Amadeo said, sighing with relief.

Federico took the paper and leaned back, resting his chin in his fingers. I stood in front of him, feeling awkward and exposed, and wishing I hadn’t worn such a revealing dress.

“Never let them see you sweat,” my father had told me once.

I shifted a little, straightening my back. After a long moment, Federico sighed and dropped the paper on the desk. His black eyes settled on me, keeping resolutely to my face.

“It came to my attention the day your husband passed that he left the house to you,” he said.

“He did.” My mouth felt dry when I spoke and I darted my tongue out, licking my lips.

“Were you aware of this at the time of his death?”

I shook my head. My lower back ached from standing in my heels and I wondered why he hadn’t offered to let me sit.

“It looks like he updated his will five years ago, willing the house and an allowance of fifty thousand a year to you for the next thirty years. Are you aware of this?”

“I didn’t have an exact number, he just said he’d make sure I had enough money to live on.”

“His children aren’t too pleased about that,” Federico said lightly.

I hadn’t even thought about his two, grown sons. They never visited and the last time I’d laid eyes on them was at my wedding, twelve years ago. They had both made a lot of cruel, inappropriate jokes and one of them had pulled me aside and called me a gold digging whore.

“He didn’t leave them anything?” I asked.

“Oh no, he left them plenty. Gino made plenty of money and he lived frugally, so they got a decent inheritance. But they don’t seem to like you very much, Mrs. Russo. One of them called the day before the funeral and ate you out about it.”

I blinked. “He did what?”

Amadeo started laughing and Federico frowned, not realizing his mistake.

“I think he meant, chewed you out,” said Lucien, his low voice carrying a touch of amusement.

“Shit, yes, chewed you out,” said Federico, rolling his eyes.

“Freudian slip?” Amadeo muttered.

“Anyway,” said Federico loudly, glaring at him. “His children weren’t happy, but it was written in his will, we spoke with the witnesses, and we’ll honor Gino’s last wishes. However, in the interest of keeping peace, I’ll act as your financial guardian. Any needs you have, bring them to me.”

I stared at him, still warm and flustered from his slip up. I was beginning to have some doubts that Federico was actually thinking about my financial situation. It seemed like he was thinking about my body more than anything else. Irritation simmered in my chest and it was everything I could do to bite my tongue against the harsh response rising in my throat.

“Respectfully, sir, I can manage my own finances. I’ve been handling the household for ten years,” I said, keeping my voice low.

In the corner, Lucien’s brow twitched. Federico stared at me for at least a full minute before sitting back and crossing one leg over the other.

“I have no doubt you’re capable, but it sends the wrong message,” he said. “The outfit keeps its women locked down for protection. We can’t have our women thinking they can operate independently, so its not a good look. And frankly, I’m surprised Gino was so lax. You could have been raped or killed driving around by yourself.”

“I live in a retirement neighborhood,” I said, shocked. “It’s hardly a war zone.”

“Tensions with the Russians are high.”

“No one has bothered me in twelve years.”

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