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“How is Riley?” I ask as we make our way to the elevator point.
“She is fine. I drove her to her apartment and made sure she and your mother were safe and tucked in bed…” he responds.
“We can stop by to see them after this,” and Liam nods.
Riley and my mom live just two houses from mine in the main family estate, but I rarely go there.
The elevator we get in and opens into Cesare’s library. The man is smoking from a pipe, sitting on a yellow sofa with his legs crossed, a whiskey glass in hand, but despite all this, he is still wearing his designer pajamas and robe.
It is all about power play.
He knew I would dress to suit the occasion, but he wanted me to think he couldn’t give a fuck about this whole thing even though his favorite child is dead.
I step into the library, instantly loathing the brightness of the space, but not his choice of colors. Yellow and navy blue. I hate bright lights but can’t get enough of bright colors even though I cannot have them in my space.
If I dig further into that, I will find that Olivia is at the core of it. So I don’t.
“Cesare,” I salute and find a place to sit, not waiting to be asked.
“Son,” he sips from his whiskey glass and sets the pipe in his hand down on a center table between the both of us.
“Cesare,” Liam helps himself to sit beside me but on the end of the sofa.
“Liam,” Cesare answers flatly, and Liam nods.
“I’m sorry about your…” I start to offer my condolences, but Cesare waves me off with his whiskey glass.
“It’s our loss. You are going through the pain of losing your beloved wife before you got the chance to enjoy marital bliss,” he sips his whiskey again.
“Concerning the pastry chef,” I act indifferent, “We have no proof she is the killer yet.”
“Do you mean your ex, Ronan?” Cesare clenches his teeth, and I nod, agreeing with his point.
“I want to find the killer; I want to make sure that when I kill the person responsible for this, I’m actually killing the culprit,” I detour, “I don’t want to take this out on her and later find out that she wasn’t to blame.”
Cesare shrugs, “Kill her now and find the culprit later, what difference does it make? She’s irrelevant.”
“To me, she’s not,” I clip.
“Fine,” he sits up. One week, that’s all you got, or I will have her head, and if you try to get in my way, there will be consequences.” He quaffs his whiskey. “It would be a shame to start a war now, just as the merging of our families was to avoid one.” He is referring to the Bratva and their insolence that my marriage to Barbara was supposed to stampede.
“One week is fair,” I don’t know how I will fucking get to it or find any fucking clue, but one week is all I will be needing. At the end of it, I will be delivering the person responsible for Barbara’s death.
“And while you are at it, think of your way forward in my family,” he drops his whiskey glass a little too loudly. “You can’t remain a widower, and you were chosen by the Ferreri family as a son-in-law, not as Barbara’s husband,” he picks up his pipe. “So use this one week to cool off and then we can get back to business.”
I don’t have to ask him to explain further because I already know what he is implying. I have to be married into the clan, and it doesn’t matter to which one of his daughters. The only way out of this fucking deal is death.
I nod, physically agreeing, but my head is elsewhere already. Obsessing over something I consider to be more important than anything else.
Olivia’s safety is paramount, and only then can I consider being miserably married.
I stand before him, and Liam does the same.
“I will see you around, son,” he puffs his pipe, and I nod, exiting the library with Liam beside me.
We stay mute as the elevator takes us down. I can sense Liam has a lot to say, but he manages to keep it in, walking beside me until we get into the car.
“That is not good,” Liam spurts as soon as we settle in.
