Page 37 of Contract of a Billionaire
“You’re wrong,” I insisted with an incredulous snicker. “My mother is a singer. An artist.”
He laughed. Hard and loud. Looks flickered our way but I kept my eyes on the biggest threat. The old Russo.
“Singer,” he snickered. “Yeah, she always liked to sing. I remember her skimming around in her little Catholic skirt and playing that piano. Men pant for that good girl look.”
Fury simmered through my veins. “I don’t give a shit what men pant for,” I hissed, staring him down. “You have my mother mistaken for someone else. She is an artist with no connection to this Corsican mafia.”
“You’re the spitting image of her,” he continued, like I hadn’t spoken. ”There was only one Alessandra Blanchet. That raven hair runs in the family. Your eyes are all wrong though. They have to be your father’s.”
The last word sounded like a curse on his tongue.
“For the last time, you have my mother mistaken for someone else,” I gritted. “My father would never connect himself with someone likeyou.”
This time, he threw his head back and laughed. A snickering, menacing, got-you kind of laugh.
My father was an ex-special agent. It would have ruined his career. Except, my father never really explained how or why he got out of that career. I always assumed it was because he decided to become an advisor and retire early so he could see me grow up.
“But your father gave up that career,” he cackled like a fucking witch. “Or he was booted,” he sneered, his lips curled disgustingly.
My fingers curled around the sleeve of Alessio’s jacket, fisting it like he was my life raft. At this moment, he was my lifeline.
“He wasn’t fired,” Alessio said, his voice pure ice. “He resigned and raised his daughter.”
“How would you know that?” Branka questioned, her eyes wide, darting between her father, Alessio, and I.
Her father laughed smugly and I wanted to claw his face. No wonder Branka couldn’t stand him. “What kind of father would I be if I didn’t know who my daughter hung out with?”
I hadn’t met Branka’s father before. The first time I saw him was at the funeral, but now, I regretted attending it. I didn’t like Branka’s father before and I certainly didn’t like him now. In fact, I detested him.
“Autumn’s connections are of no relevance,” Alessio stated matter-of-factly, his voice cold. Why did it sound like Alessio knew something I didn’t?
“No relevance?” Mr. Russo spat, his saliva spluttering all over the table. My nose scrunched and my appetite was suddenly gone. “She could be spying for them.”
Alessio laughed, clearly displaying he didn’t believe that.
“It seems to me that Miss Corbin’s parents wanted to spare her the harsh reality of this kind of life,” Vasili chimed in, his voice cold. “Now can we conclude our agreement or are we going to argue further?”
I had no idea who Vasili Nikolaev was but suddenly, I liked him very much.
For the next thirty minutes, whatever deal the Nikolaev were working on was concluded. All the men spoke in code while Branka and I sat in silence, pretending to eat but we really just pushed it around on our plates.
And all the while I pondered on the revelation of my maternal grandparents.
Chapter13
Alessio
Secrets never stay buried long.
The fact that Autumn didn’t know the identity of her maternal grandparents this long was a miracle. I’d known it since the first playdate those two had. I always checked into all of Branka's friends.
But this lousy excuse of a father didn’t bother looking into Autumn until he saw her at my mother’s funeral. He didn’t fucking care about Branka at all. She was a daughter, a disposable commodity that he held against my mother. Both my deceased sister and Branka were expendable to him.
In Father’s eyes, it was my mother’s fault she couldn’t produce him an heir.
Father didn’t know I kept tabs on all his activities. His resources were nothing compared to mine. Nico Morrelli was my main man for any information I needed and he came through every time.
Nobody knew that Autumn was in line to inherit the Corsican mafia upon her grandfather’s passing.
