Page 114 of Unholy Union
Rinaldo Corsini and his daughter.
I had studied Sabrina carefully this morning and she seemed…compliant.
Maybe not the bright, spunky peak she’d been on days like Coney Island or the night we sawNocturne of the Damned, but she gave no indication she was upset either.
Still, I’ve spent the morning wondering how this entire situation would play out. If Sabrina votes how we need her to, we’ll pull this off and successfully oust Rinaldo Corsini from his position as CEO of his own company.
The hostile takeover will be in its final stage and Argento Holdings, the shell company we’ve used to gradually buy stock over the past year, will have the room it needs to finish the job.
There’s a good chance Sabrina will inevitably discover the full truth.
She’ll eventually realize who’s behind Argento and put two and two together, but by that point, it’ll already be too late.
I’m going to be honest when I say I couldn’t give less of a fuck what happens to Rinaldo and the rest of the Corsini family.
As far as I’m concerned, this merger between our families, was always a sham and it was never real.
The Corsinis will always be enemies of the Valentes. Papà and I see eye to eye on that.
But the other honest reality is that… Idocare about Sabrina.
I care about her more than I ever believed I could come to care about her. I care about her so much that as I sit in Bonaduce’s office and wait for the board vote to begin, guilt presses down heavily on me like never before.
My head fills with thoughts about how hurt she’ll be when she finds out the truth.
She’ll feel rightfully betrayed. She’s never outright said it, but she’s started to trust me; we’ve started to form a real understanding, despite our differences and the many bumps along the way.
This betrayal would shatter everything we’ve built over the past couple months.
It might damage us irreparably. More so than our family’s blood feud already had, which is saying something.
We could become Papà and Mama, two people who are so fundamentally un-in-love with each other their marriage was dead from the start.
After experiencing the small bright spots we’ve had, moments like Coney Island or even dancing in the music room, it feels wrong to let it happen to us.
To let us become them.
Voices on the live stream pull me from my thoughts. I sit up in Bonaduce’s office chair and turn up the volume on his computer.
The Corsini boardroom fills the display. In the center of the room is the polished walnut table, sterile walls, those stupid company pens they keep in glass cups like anyone gives a fuck about branding during a coup.
The board members are seated already, clustered at their usual posts with taut, unreadable faces. Then the door opens and Rinaldo Corsini enters at last.
He doesn’t swagger in like the man I’ve known. He has none of his usual pompous flair, his gait heavier and stiffer than I’ve ever seen it. He keeps his eyes forward as he makes his way to the head of the table and lowers himself into the leather chair like it might swallow him whole.
My teeth grind as the chairman—some puffed-up finance relic named Barzini—clears his throat and calls the meeting to order.
“The board has been convened today to formally review and vote upon the leadership status of Mr. Rinaldo Corsini as Chief Executive Officer of Corsini Construction. All votes will be cast aloud and recorded as aye or nay. The majority vote will determine the outcome.”
I glance at the door, waiting for Sabrina to walk through.
Where the fuck is she?
I swipe my thumb across my phone screen, hammering out a text. First to Lazaro, then a second checking on her, asking if she’s still in her meeting (pretending I’m not watching via hidden camera).
The text to Sabrina reads:
How did your board vote go? Want to do lunch?
