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“You will have to leave her and go get things done,” I grit, being unnecessarily snarky, “You have to meet with Ruth or find her at least.
“I’m on it,” he answers too quickly, and I grunt.
“I mean the other Ruth, Olivia’s intern, not the lady you are with,” I look around and over my shoulder, then at the CCTV by the side.
“Her name is Anne or Grace. I don’t know, but she looks like a Greta,” he whispers and then clears his throat, “I have eyes on the street, and so far, I think they are coming back with good news.”
“Buzz me up when you’ve got the news, and don’t come anywhere near me unless you’ve got something I can use,” I snap.
I end the call and strut into the elevator with a bodyguard in tow.
I’m not excited to see Cesare. I never have been, not even with us becoming family, but now, I just have to keep seeing him under uncomfortable circumstances.
I wish I had the opportunity to find Ruth before Liam does.
I step out of the elevator and into Cesare’s study, and, as expected, he is waiting for me. But what I do not expect to see are Pietro, Sofia, and their ever-absent mother, who spends ninety-five percent of her time managing models and the remaining five thinking of a new model to add to her talent management firm.
Not only do I have the entire family sitting and waiting, but they are doing so in mourning attire of black high-fashion fabrics. Sofia and Pietro seem to be the only ones that look like they have been mourning the loss of their sister.
Cesare wears his sadness well, whereas his wife looks like she’s about to pose for a family portrait shoot.
“Ronan,” Cesare welcomes me as gruffly as usual, and I nod at him, then at the rest of the family, before taking my seat opposite them.
The study is unusually dark because the curtains are drawn down, and the only source of light is a lamp on the desk in the far corner.
I adjust in my finely tailored suit, trying not to give it away that this meeting is making me uncomfortable.
“You said you have answers,” Cesare says, setting his pipe on the table before them as his wife reaches for her cup of tea.
“You found the killer?” Sofia’s tone is too soft for me to recognize it as hers.
“Well,” I add a nod to that, but then I quickly rethink it since I cannot assume until I have Ruth Davis where I need her to be. “Not that, but a pointer,” I divert, knocking myself internally for not thinking before this briefing with Cesare.
It’s the same thing everyone, but especially Olivia, complains about. I’m impulsive. I act before I think.
That’s not how these things should be arranged.
“Barbara was killed with a laxative,” I pick up on something else. “She is allergic to laxatives, and I was thinking you could help with any information on who else might know about this.”
Cesare grinds his teeth loudly. “Barbara was a public figure; anyone would have such information,” he picks up his pipe, “You’ve got nothing, son.” He snarls. “Does this mean that you would rather run around like a hamster in a wheel than give me the heart of a mere baker responsible for my daughter’s death?” His voice spikes, slightly booming, but I keep my cool.
Frankly, I’m not moved by Cesare and all his theatrics of intimidation. The only reason I’m slipping up is because Olivia’s life is on the line.
“Is that what you came all this way for?” Pietro asks, and I ignore him.
“It’s something. He is trying to do the right thing and…” Sofia begins to speak.
“To hell with the right thing,” Cesare flares, making Sofia swallow down the remnant of her sentence. “My word is my bind, and I know you are the same kind of man.” Cesare leans back in his seat. “You have until tomorrow to finish the job so we can move on to mending the bridges of our alliance. I have a spare daughter.”
I nod, understanding everything he says. To sum up, Cesare expects me to kill Olivia and marry Sofia.
“Bring me good news tomorrow, son. It would be a shame to forego what we have as a family, don’t you think?” He sucks from his pipe and puffs as rudely as possible, ending the meeting and dismissing me.
His kind of good news means Olivia’s head on a platter.
Chapter Eighteen
OLIVIA
