Page 59 of Cruel Heir

Fontana laughs. It’s dark and mocking as he looks between the two of us, and I can see how little he thinks of me. I’m nothing but an irritation, something in his way. Something to be removed as soon as possible, so that he can go on with his life.

What Lucia hasn’t yet realized is that she means only a little more. She’s a chess piece for him. A tool to garner power, wealth, and allies. But I think she’s beginning to see.

“My daughter does not answer to you,” Fontana says coolly.

I let out a long breath, looking evenly at Fontana. “I came here to discuss terms with you. To find out if there was a possibility of peace between us, because your daughter—my wife—asked it of me. I set aside my thirst for your blood and my need for vengeance for my family to give her what she asked. Now tell me if there’s a discussion to be had, or if I should simply go.”

“There are no terms.” Fontana’s voice is iron-hard. “You have started a war, Leone, so face the consequences. My daughter stays. You may leave, and live, for today. But you won’t reach the end of this conflict alive. I will find someone willing to take my daughter as she is, and I will bolster my alliances however I need to, in order to put an end to your family line once and for all. By the time you draw your last breath, my daughter will already be in some other man’s bed. You can think of that, as your blood follows your father’s.”

There’s not a hint of doubt in his voice. For the first time since I conceived my plan over so many long and furious nights in my gilded prison on his estate, I find myself wondering if I’ve been wrong. Not in my desire to avenge my family—but in my belief that it was possible. I think of the alliances I’ve built so far, the dons who also have their own reasons for wanting to see Fontana fall. I see that what I thought was strength is meager in comparison to Fontana’s assurance that the world will bow to him in a moment, if he commands it to kneel.

He looks at Lucia again, and this time he says nothing. He doesn’t need to. The order is clear in his face, in the way that he looks at her.And I know she doesn’t need to hear him say a word in order to know what she’s meant to do.

But instead, to my utter shock, she turns to me. “It’s clear there’s no discussion,marito,” she says softly. “We should leave.”

Marito. Husband.The word wrenches something in my gut, freezing me to the spot for a moment before I regain my composure. I hope, to the very depths of my soul, that Fontana didn’t see me falter. I expect that he did, nonetheless.

I nod, motioning to the door. Lucia takes one more look at her father and then turns away, leaving me to follow. Fontana’s expression is carefully blank, but I can see the hate in his eyes.

“Your life is forfeit as soon as you step off of my property,scemo,” Fontana growls. “It won’t be long before you hear from me again.”

I don’t say another word. I only walk out with Lucia, Antonio and my other men falling into step behind me as we walk back out to the car. Lucia is silent, too, until the moment the door is opened for us, and we’re back inside the cool, leather-scented space.

“Very clever of you,” Lucia murmurs softly, as we slide back into the car. “Making it seem as if you were giving me a choice when my father wouldn’t, so you looked as if you were the hero.” She turns her head to one side, her elegant profile absolutely still as she watches the view begin to roll by outside of the window. “A way to prove you were right about him and come out on top.”

I have a feeling she won’t believe me. But I say it anyway, watching her with a strange ache as we start the trip back home, her father’s estate disappearing in the rearview. “I meant it,principessa,” I murmur quietly. “I was giving you the choice.”

Whether she believes me or not, I can’t tell. Whether she regrets keeping her own promise and coming with me, I can’t tell either. But her hands tighten in her lap, and she remains silent, all the way home.

I can’t think of anything to say, either. I’m entirely preoccupied with thoughts of what comes next—of what Fontana will do, now that he’s made it clear there is no bargaining with him, and of whatIwill do, now that I know his position won’t falter. I’m no longer confidentthat I can do this. I’d been willing to risk myself in pursuit of my own vengeance, and I had nothing else that I cared for.

But now, it’s becoming clear that I’m risking Lucia, too. Her defiance of her father won’t go unanswered. I have no idea how he might retaliate against her for what she’s done today.

I’m no longer sure if vengeance is worth it.

Not if it means losing her.

19

LUCIA

“Why did you do that?”

Andre asks the question the moment we’re back inside. James has melted away, disappeared somewhere in the vastness of the mansion, leaving only Andre and I standing in the entryway. He looks almostangry, the emotion warring with confusion, and I force myself to stay cold. To not allow myself to doubt that his offer of achoicein that room with my father was anything other than another manipulation.

If I believe it, if I let myself believe that Andre meant it, just when I’ve been faced with the truth of who my father really is—I’ll fall apart. I won’t be able to bear it.

“I promised,” I tell him stiffly. “I said that I would come back with you, if you arranged the meeting. If youtried. You kept your word, and I kept mine.” I can’t bring myself to say the rest of it—that in that room, I finally saw how little I truly meant to my father. That his slight affection for me all my life had less to do with having lost my mother or him doing his best to show what love he could, and everything to do with the fact that he simply didn’t reallycare. I was only ever as valuable as what I could gain for him. My luxurious existence, my lessons and tutors and fine things—they were all in service ofgrooming me into the best mafia wife I could possibly be, so that I could attract the best possible alliance for my father.

I always knew that, on the surface, but I never truly understood what that meant until now. Until I heard him all but whistle for me to return to his side. I never knew how much of anobjectI was, to be auctioned away, like a priceless vase or a famous painting.

He expected my obedience, not out of love, but out of filial duty. A duty that, it seems, he’s questioned whether he owes me in return.

I saw that Andre was right. He wasn’t lying to me, when he told me that my father had questioned the wisdom of how far he should go to get me back. And now I wonder what else Andre has told me the truth about.

“You could have stayed there.” There’s something almost like wonder in Andre’s voice, as if I’ve upended his entire world as well. “I couldn’t have stopped you. You could have stayed there in that room, and I would have had to leave without you, if I wanted to leave with my life. You would have never seen me again.”

He wants an explanation. I can see it on his face. He wants to understand. But I don’t know how to do that, when I don’t even fully understand myself.

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