That was when I snapped, “Fuck no!”
“Bianca,” he ground out. “This is not a phase.”
Blood rushed to my face, both from embarrassment and hurt. Was there a reason for Dad to think otherwise? No. Because I’d been fickle with what I wanted in life. First, I wanted to become a PI like my McGrath cousins before I finally settled on an economics degree from Harvard. Then there was that fashion show and all my hero worship of being like Ivy. Uncertainty weighed me down for a second, but I had to be honest.
“Dad. Let’s not talk about this here before we”—you—“say something we regret.”
Mom put a hand on Dad’s shoulder, but even before she did, the fury on his face had softened and I witnessed a father’s pride and pain on his features. This was the conflict inside me. There was no question Dad only wanted what was best for me. If he could shelter me from all this, he would. But I was twenty-three years old. It was time for me to chart my path.
He sighed. “I didn’t mean you’re flighty.”
“I never gave you reason to think otherwise,” I said. “But it’s time for me to make my own mistakes and not have you as a safety net.”
“My daughter was forced to marry,” he gritted. “It was hardly your mistake. You were coerced. To have you blackmailed…”
“I am not considering divorce. This is not a phase, Dad. Thinking of divorce at this point is like quitting before giving the marriage a chance.” I took a step toward Dad and I hated that I saw betrayal on his face. “This is Sandro we’re talking about?—”
“He’s a Rossi.”
“So?”
“Over my dead body will you be married to a Rossi.”
Standing behind Dad, Mom rolled her eyes and I tried not to smile because he became visibly peeved whenever anyone made a comment about me getting betrothed to Sandro.
“You think this is funny? All my life I made sure my children wouldn’t become made men.”
“Yet you have no problem enjoying the benefits of being connected to one.” I nodded to Dom.
“Damn, cuz,” Dom said. “Shots fired. Who is this girl?”
“Don’t encourage her,” Matteo snapped.
“I’m not your baby sister anymore,” I snapped back at my brother. “I’m a grown woman married to a made man. Now.” I switched my gaze to Dom. “Where is Tommy?” I tried to ignore the hostility emanating from the other guys, but I wanted the assurance, especially for Divina.
“Are you negotiating his release?” Dom asked. “Because that was the condition I gave Sandro.”
“What?”
“You for Tommy.”
I blinked. I had a terrible poker face and my sly cousin caught on.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dom muttered. “He never told you.”
“Never told her what?” Nico asked.
I had no room for annoyance, outrage, or indignation concerning my husband keeping this secret from me. What I was feeling was less guilt about taking action against his knowledge.
“It doesn’t matter now.” I leaned forward. “Just know I’m not simply playing mafia wife. I have a duty to the women of the Rossi crime family. And apparently there’s nothing more to negotiate if your condition was me for Tommy.”
“Is Raffa Rossi holding something over Sandro’s head?” Nico asked. “Because it’s common knowledge that in spite of who’s boss, he always has a say with how Rossis do business.”
Again, I wish I played poker.
“What if he’s blackmailing Sandro?” he continued. “We obviously know how you feel about him.”
“You better release Tommy. And soon,” Sloane spoke behind me. “I didn’t risk my neck for nothing.”