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Franco’s nose brushed my high cheek bone before his lips fell over my ear. “Time to take them down, baby.”
An evil smirk sprouted on my face as I threw a hand up, waving to the crowd. “It certainly is.”
The second the spotlight left us, Franco gripped my hand, leading us inside the house. Quinn was on our heels.
“Which way,” Franco demanded.
“Left,” I said.
“This is fucking bullshit!” Quinn spat. His commanding steps sounded beside me.
I halted at my father's closed office door. Franco rammed his foot into the mahogany door. It flew open, slapping the wall.
Dad sat at his oversized cherry wood desk. Uncle Anson perched on the edge, giving us his back as he peered over his shoulder. They glared at us as we stormed toward them.
Dad stood casually. “This is what happens when you marry a woman who is the heir to an empire. She will sit on my throne and run our family business. If you don’t like it, divorce her,” he roared, eyes bulging out of his face.
“Never,” Franco yelled, standing toe-to-toe with Dad.
“She’s my wife. The only empire she’s running has her last name in it, DeLuca.”
“You think because you’re the Italian mafia I’m scared?” His lip curled in annoyance. “I’m not.”
“That’s enough,” I shouted.
“My wife left because she’s not a puppet. Kennedy doesn’t want to be controlled,” my husband stated on my behalf.
I tugged Franco’s hand until he stood beside me. His lips pressed against my temple. He was the rock I wish I always had. “Thanks, baby,” I muttered.
Dad’s eyes met mine. “Is that what you thought I was doing? Controlling you?”
“Yes!” I snapped.
“Franco, I’ll let my father explain. Can you give us a minute?”
“I’m not leaving the room, Kennedy. I’ll wait on the sofa.” He pointed across the room.
I smiled up at my possessive husband. “Ok.”
Did I mention how perfect he was for me?
Uncle Anson took a seat beside Dad. Quinn sat beside me on the other side of the desk. The elaborate office was fit for a king. There were rich hardwood floors throughout. Beautiful books lined the shelves, and there were two brown leather sofas, and a fully stocked bar. It was a place of refuge during my high school years. I studied in this space when I had a little down time.
I caught my husband in my periphery preparing himself a drink. Clip and Piero stood near the sofa, hands clutched in front of them.
“Kennedy, I wasn’t trying to control you. I was preparing my heir to take my throne. Which was the same thing Anson did with Quinn. When Quinn left, we let it go because you were still handling the business. You performed well.” He sat back in his chair.
“Then one day you vanished without a trace. Didn’t take a stitch of clothing. It was clear you needed a break. So I let you be a kid.”
My brows lowered. “It was too late to be a kid, Dad. You stole my teenage years when you turned me into a dope dealer.”
Dad leaned closer. “When I was growing up. I had to sell dope to survive.” He dragged out the word survive. “Hanging out and partying wasn’t something I could do. The goal was to build the empire, then let our heirs run it.”
“Dad, you never once asked if I wanted this life.”
His head hung between his shoulder blades. “You’re right. I didn’t. You are the heir to the Carter Empire.”
“Why not Keziah or Isadora?”
