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“Then, yes, pull the plug,” someone called out.
"Agreed!"
At everyone’s consensus, Gio nodded in satisfaction. The old man seethed visibly, loudly grumbling under his breath about Gio's inexperience, which made many of the men avert their gazes uncomfortably. Her husband’s face grew tight with brewing anger, his hands curling around the file in his hand.
“I believe Luke started a business that is taking off?” Ana cut in quickly, desperate to dispel the rising tension. "The strip club."
“Ah yes…” Gio murmured. “A favorite of Jon’s.”
The man turned a deep red, almost as if he was about to choke on his tongue, before he sank down lower into his seat. Ana's brows raised at the barely restrained animosity Gio was directing at his advisor. If looks could kill, Jon would have died instantly on the spot. No one else seemed to have noticed the exchange, but it sent a cold wave through her bones.
“I’d like to hear more. I’ll set up a meeting.” Gio nodded at Luke, who smiled gratefully at him and Ana.
She blinked in surprise. Had Gio agreed to meet with Luke solely based on her recommendation? Some of the men must have wondered the same because they regarded her speculatively–though not all of them were pleased by her influence.
“And I suppose your wife’s dress shop will get pumped with all of Vitello’s funds?” The old man eyed daggers in her direction from the back of the room. “How convenient.”
Ana stiffened, shrinking into herself. “I haven’t requested any funds."
“We’ll see how long that lasts.” He sniffed.
She felt clammy all over at his disdain, the tone awfully familiar from all the years growing up with him. Even after all these years, after everything she had tried to do to please him, the old man still viewed her like she was invasive vermin. It twisted her insides into a tight knot.
Snapping his folder shut, Gio leaned forward sharply. “Ana grew her couture line organically. She took no salary, no staff, and invested all her earnings back into the business.”
She blinked in surprise as he rattled off each note.
“My wife raves about it,” one man chimed in.
“It helped us boost the gold imports too,” Luke added.
Gio spread his hands. “There you have it. And no, I did not coach them to say that,” he said sardonically to the old man, anticipating the retort. “Though, as her grandfather, I would think you’d be proud.”
“Grandfather? Please. She’s just a fil–”
“Francisco.” Gio’s voice was pure ice, so low, so dangerous that it made her heart stop in its tracks. The warning snapped across the room like a gunshot. “Watch it.”
The old man slumped back in his chair. Nobody stepped in to speak and fill the ensuing silence. They all watched with bated breath as the two men faced off. Gio was simmering with barely controlled fury while Grandfather glanced pointedly away. He didn’t look at her or offer any apologies.
“She’s not just your granddaughter now, but my wife. Your Donna,” Gio warned coldly. “An insult to her is an insult to the Family.”
He met each person’s gaze with dark intent before brusquely moving on.
Chapter 3
Grandfather's harsh words came to her in her dreams that night. The same dream as all the other nights.
The body on the floor.
The blood on the carpet.
Her staring down at it in icy shock…unable to move as shivers spread all over her, starting from her chest out to each finger and toe.
Everywhere around her was chaos–furniture toppled over, her clothing ripped and torn, and a scream trapped in her throat.
But before she could let out the scream, she was dragged away. Away from the dim, moonlit room with the body on the carpet–into another room where all the lights were on, glaring down at her.
The wooden chair she was forced into felt hard and unyielding under her worn body. But she was beyond sensation. Nothing seemed to register, not even the maids whispering furiously around her, grabbing her hands and rubbing at them. They rubbed and rubbed, but the stains were too deep.
