Page 52 of Mending Our Chance

29 Felicity

Miracle of miracles, Marcus wasn’t done fighting for me. He had shown up and apologized, and then taken my wrath like a man. He didn’t back down when I’d told him to fuck off either—he’d came at me and devoured my mouth. It told me that he wasn’t done fighting for us, and truth be told, I wasn’t done fighting for him. If I could fight hard for the business, I could fight harder for something I wanted more. And Marcus was what I wanted. All I had needed to know was whether he wanted me too.

What had just happened had cemented that question, because, instead of taking me right then and there, Marcus had retreated. I suspected it was due to the fact that we hadn’t made amends. In the heat of the moment, I wanted to patch things up quickly just to get him in bed. Yet, he reminded me that there was more at stake and mending what was still broken would take a bit more work than make-up sex. Being the gentleman he was, he left me, giving us the chance to fix things first.

There was also the matter of the other news that Marcus had come bearing. The Signore wanted a party, one that would stake his claim in his daughter’s business. This told me which of the two contracts my father was hoping I chose. Well, dammit, in hindsight, I didn’t see a problem with merging, in fact it would be beneficial to our business if it scared off our competitors. How deep in business we would get with the Argento Family was the key. This party would either be declaring our business success and cheering us on, or it would be announcing to the world, as Marcus had suggested, that Signor Argento was going to become a permanent fixture in our venture.

That decision was up to me—and that was the unspoken part of Marcus’ visit. Knowing my father, it would also be the best soiree this town had ever seen. This was Manhattan after all. Anyone who was anyone would be there Saturday night. Even on such short notice, people would drop their plans and flock to the Signore’s call.

I called my father and sealed the deal. When he asked me what my announcement would be, I told him I would make a speech before the formal dinner and tell the world where Bowers & Saccone LLC stood in terms of relations with our private investor. I had added that I would also be making an announcement where I personally stood with the company. I said that to keep my father on his toes. Just as I had intended, that last sentence had caused my father to pause and breathe heavily into the phone. His silent discomfort, however, had me opening my mouth and almost blurting out that I would stay and merge with him. I was able to end the call without binding myself. And that was a good thing. I wasn’t making any hasty decisions.

As the week wore on, there were a myriad of details I had to sort out in the business. Having my brothers working with me full time did much to confirm my inclination to stay. However, every time I saw Marcus, I was reminded of how we had gotten ourselves into this mess.

To top it all off, the party planning was dumped on my plate—for my approval, of course. I wasn’t surprised that the venue had bumped its other pre-booked event for the Signore. It was another reminder that my estranged father had a lot of power.

I knew I could build a business without the Signore. My time apart from the family had proved that. But with his backing? Well, the success of that business would be a hell of a lot different—more like astronomical. I salivated like the greedy Italian I was at the thought of what I could do with my father’s help. So far, the family had not interfered, merely observed and offered advice, and I believed the twins when they swore up and down that I could still retain my freedom if we were in business together. And given what had happened recently, I was almost willing to try. However, the fear of being strong-armed was ever present and a big consideration to my decision.

After a whirlwind of a week, Saturday came all too quickly. Since I now had a heavy investor, I milked the twins in every aspect I needed them. Already, after only a few days, I was planning to move our business to a new location, one with a larger suite, if not an entire floor. I was also working through hiring the much needed employees to work and fill the demands I was prepared to place on them. I still liked the idea of contract developers after the Harold fiasco, but the return on investment was better to keep work in-house. With a heaver backer and lots of funds, I decided to shake this business up and force it to grow to its fullest potential. However, later, I would have to make the decision to keep the investors involved or cut them loose and pay their hefty fee—if I even stayed on board long enough to do that. And all this would be decided on Saturday night.

The other benefit of having a rich investor was that I could once again indulge in the tastes of my youth. Therefore, the jewels that hung heavy around my neck on Saturday evening were only the best, and the gown that fell to the floor hugged every inch of my body. A thin strap ran under my left armpit, then across my chest to sit tightly on my neck, right next to the rope of diamonds that glowed brilliantly. Thank God I had a well-toned upper body and could pull off the style. I was going for mid-nineteen-fifty’s glamour and thought I had pulled the look off well. Sophia Loren would be proud that I was channeling her in every aspect. The guests would know that although I was now under my father’s protection, I was also the powerhouse in the company.

However, regardless of the glitz and glamour, I was conscious that this party was the final show down. Looking over the crowd, I still hadn’t made my choice—my commitment. Attending this party was a proclamation that I had forgiven and accepted my father, but how deep did that acceptance run? I could still cut and run. Resignation would mean that I would be walking away from the business world. Of course, I could fall back on my teaching career, but as a failure in the real world, I didn’t know if I could face the academic realm should I choose that path.

Each disaster I had faced in life had knocked me down, yet I had risen up and taken the lesson in stride. The question was whether I would rise tonight or slink into the abyss. This was the outcome I contemplated as I stared at the numerous guests, mingling and drinking my father’s champagne. I knew what I wanted—the question was whether I was strong enough to take it.

A hand slipped across my lower back, interrupting my thoughts. In the next moment, lips came down to whisper into my ear, “There are no words for how stunning you look tonight. If I had Paris’ golden apple, I would give it to you, oh goddess.”

I stiffened, but did not move away. His slow drawl was sweet, the words laced in heavy admiration. Here was the biggest factor in my decision. This man, who had proved himself time and time again, I wanted by my side. If I ran, I knew I would be giving that up.

“Would you expect anything less?” I tossed my chin a little higher into the air.

Ignoring the desire that was crawling over my skin, making the little hairs on my body stand on edge, I stayed cool and aloof. If I stayed, I would have to forgive him—and my father. That decision took a great deal of strength.

As his fingertips lingered on my gown, I stood frozen, fear making me want to change my mind. What if he screwed up again? What if I miscommunicated with him or my father? Mending a relationship was a terrible risk, because once it was broken, you realized how fragile it was and how capable of falling to pieces it was liable to be.

Marcus’ thrum of approval vibrated through me and I felt him, rather than heard him, ask for a moment of my time. My body craved his touch, calling out to his despite my resolve. He wanted me, and I him. There was only one way to deal with the situation.

“I must greet my father,” I replied shortly, pulling away from his touch, coward that I was.

I had been avoiding conversations with both men all week, using the twins as my liaisons. Now it was clear that I could avoid them no longer. And in that moment, I chose to deal with my father first as it was the more pressing battle to wage. Its outcome would also decide the fate between Marcus and me. But as I walked away, I felt his eyes searing into my back, and damn me, I reveled in his attention.

My aunt had always said things that made the Signore look bad. It was the Signore’s fault that I got divorced, had to work for a living, and forge my own path. If she could speak from the grave, Gianna would have said the Signore was the reason my Family was dead. And Marcus had colluded with him—even knowing all this. I had successfully pushed the negative voice from my head these past few days, and I could now freely admit that the real demon was me. I had put all that blame on the men in my life because I had refused to take a good hard look in the mirror.

Inner demons were the worst. I suppose Marcus knows a thing or two about that. Sighing, I found a pair of champagne flutes and slipped through the crowd to where a salt and peppered man in a suit was charming—or perhaps intimidating—a handful of guests. Time to face the music and take a look in the mirror, I told myself as I handed a flute to my father.

“Babbo,” I said in greeting. The crowd retreated to a respectful distance. I slipped into the old language and toasted, “To paternal protection and righting that which was broken in the past.”

Arching a brow at me, the Signore tipped his glass back and swallowed the contents. “This is your business, daughter-mine. I would never disgrace you by offering you a position but I do hope that you will remain on board and run this company. Do you have a contract for me?”

I shrugged non-committedly. There was no point showing my hand until I was ready, until I had everything I wanted lined up for the taking. “How can I trust you and Marcus after this?” I crossed one arm under my chest and held the opposite elbow so hard that I felt my nails dig into the flesh. “I came here because I want to forgive you, Babbo. I want to move forward.”

“You can trust that Marcus and I love you.” There it was. A simple truth in a world of lies. “And you have a strong enough business head to field any hostile take overs. You already did it when you took this company. As to bringing me on board, well, you read the contracts. I’m only providing money. I hold no operating leverage, unless you see fit to take more of my companies in and use them for your leverage.”

“Trust, Babbo.” I ground my teeth. “I need that.”

My father nodded in agreement. “So, let’s work on that then. Together. Young Marcus has a brilliant mind and you have a knack for business. I will leave it in your capable hands and not interfere, however, the door is open should you need it.”

“I want to grow with you. It is what should have happened seven years ago, had circumstances not derailed our lives.” The words tumbled out before I could think to add any more demands. “The twins will run it with me,” I amended, realizing too late that I had just revealed my tell to this man. Shit, I scolded myself. But it’s not like he didn’t already know.

“I knew that I could get you to spill your heart’s desire.” The Signore placed his empty flute on the passing tray of a waiter. “Can you also forgive an old man his past sins and start over?”

“I think so.” I reached out and squeezed my father’s firm hand. “However, there is one more thing I have to sort out before any of this can be finalized.”

“You and Marcus want each other. You are made for each other.” My father brushed a kiss over the top of my knuckles, eyes appraising the jewels on my wrist. “Your future together is not a decision to be taken lightly, but you have until I make my speech to finalize details and sign.”

---