Page 64 of Rosetti Family New York
The Rosetti mansion rises around us, cold and bright, and I don’t feel like a prisoner anymore.
I’m finally home.
34
Leonardo
He emerges from the office tower like a king, surrounded by his men, coat billowing behind him. His eyes find me instantly, narrowing to a glare that could curdle milk. I smile, widening my stance and tilting my chin. His bodyguards are large and expressionless, flanking him like cement blocks. I see the moment they recognize me, the flicker of understanding in their eyes that stretches into a second of respect. They look to Price for instruction, but I’m already stepping forward.
“Mind if I borrow Mr. Price?” I ask. The corner of my mouth curves up like I’ve told some kind of joke. His men pause, and then they give me what I want—a nod, a retreat.
Richard seethes as I move closer. “I’m busy today, Rossetti,” he says.
“I’m not,” I reply, leading him to the black SUV.
The street is chaos around us. Cars honking, engines roaring. People move like ants on the sidewalk, buzzing in every direction. The midday heat is crawling inside my suit. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like waiting even more. I glance at the driverthrough the open window, a silent signal. He nods and revs the engine.
“What’s so urgent?” Richard asks, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder.
I open the door, gesture for him to get in. “I want to have a word about Eleanor.”
His mouth tightens at his daughter’s name. “I don’t have time for this,” he says, but he looks at his men and waves them off.
“I’m making time for you, Richard.” My voice is low, patient. I can wait him out forever if I have to.
His eyes narrow, trying to read me. But the man who raised Eleanor knows how to hide his weakness. He throws his hands up in mock surrender and climbs in.
I get in after him, a shark closing in on a goldfish.
He adjusts his cuffs as I slide in beside him and close the door, shutting out the city’s noise. “I hope you don’t plan to bore me with tales of your wife’s misbehavior,” he says. “She’s your problem now.”
The driver eases into traffic. I turn my attention to the passing streets, the grimy storefronts and cracked sidewalks, each mile marker dragging Price further from his comfort zone. I want him squirming, unsure. I’m nowhere near done with him yet.
“What do you want, Rossetti?” Richard leans back, crossing his arms. His confidence grates against me, a reminder that men like him don’t learn unless you carve the lesson into their skin.
“I want to discuss business with you, Price.”
Richard’s eyes sharpen, glinting. “So why the fanfare?” He motions to the car, the fast drive through the streets. “You Rosettis are all the same,” he says, as though he’s complimenting my tailoring. “All flash, no substance.”
I don’t rise to the bait, don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me angry. Instead, I reach for my phone, send a quick text to the driver, a single word.
It takes less than ten minutes to reach the bridge. The city stretches away behind us, an empire of ambition and greed. Now we’re on my turf. I feel the familiar pull, the raw, bare-knuckled simplicity of it. The SUV veers off the main road, cutting down a narrow path lined with rusted metal and cracked concrete. Abandoned. Forgotten. Like Richard would like his daughters to be.
The car pulls up beneath the bridge, the rumble of traffic overhead. Richard looks out the window, and this time, he’s the one trying to mask his discomfort.
“You bring all your business associates here?” he asks. He tries to sound casual, but his voice has an edge. I hear it, and I love it.
“Only the important ones.” I open the door, motion for him to follow me out.
He hesitates, then steps out. I leave the driver in the car. He’s loyal enough not to talk, but he doesn’t need to hear everything.
Richard takes in the surroundings, the peeling graffiti and the scent of decay. I watch him, gauging his reaction. “Interesting location,” he says.
“I thought you’d appreciate the view.” I walk a few paces, stop, turn to face him. The moment stretches between us. I want to be the one to break it. “You think I don’t know what you did to Eleanor?”
Richard doesn’t flinch. He’s good at that. “What I did? I gave you a valuable asset.”
He’s testing me. Pushing to see how far I’ll let him go. I step closer, cutting the distance between us. “You whored her out to your business associates,” I say. My words are ice. I want them to slice through him.
