Page 126 of Peasants and Kings
“So, whydothey do business with you?”
He shot me an amused look. “Power is power. Even they can’t deny that. I’m not a billionaire by chance, Sterling.”
Was Hadrian’s power enough to get me out of this clusterfuck of a situation?
Helicopter engines growled into existence, and a silver metal beast appeared in the sky as the beating of its rotors sprayed mist through the air. It landed on a giant “H” on Hadrian’s helipad.
The door of the helicopter opened, and a man wearing a three-piece gray suit climbed out.
Huge. Bold. He strode with purpose, embodying wealth and luxury. His dark hair had threads of gray at the temples and was tastefully gelled off his forehead. His face betrayed no emotion whatsoever as he approached Hadrian. His skin was a naturally healthy bronze, and though his brow was furrowed with wrinkles, I couldn’t tell his age.
Three men dressed in a similar fashion trailed behind him, all with the same dark hair and eyes.
The helicopter’s rotors flattened, and the wind and sound diminished at once as the engines began to settle in a high-pitched, dying whine.
Hadrian grasped the man’s outstretched palm when he was within distance.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Hadrian said in flawless Italian.
“My pleasure,” the man returned politely as his dark gaze slid to me.
Hadrian reached behind me to drag me forward so he could drape his arm around me in a show of possession. “This is Eden.”
The man held out his hand, and I set my palm against his. His skin was warm and smooth. “Angelo,” he greeted in English. “Pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied, trying not to gape at the man who was my uncle.
Angelo peered at Hadrian’s battered face. “What happened to you?”
“I’ll explain later. You’re welcome to speak in your native tongue while you’re here,” Hadrian said. “Eden speaks fluent Italian.”
I detected a flicker of interest enter Angelo’s expression before he hid it. “We will discuss pleasantries in English and business in Italian. You are our host, and I will honor you by speaking in your native tongue.”
Hadrian nodded.
Angelo dropped my hand and turned to the men behind him. “My younger brother, Nico. My heir, Luca. My second eldest, Tor.”
The three men inclined their heads, but otherwise remained silent. Nico was thinner than Angelo, his nose more aquiline. He wasn’t nearly as compelling to look at. Luca and Tor resembled their father, but while Luca’s face appeared open and curious, Tor’s remained shuddered. He stared at me underneath thick dark brows, and I had to stop myself from shivering. There was something unnerving in his solid, milk-chocolate gaze.
I tried not to stare at the men I was related to, but I kept stealing glances in an attempt to take them in.
Hadrian had informed me that no business would be discussed until pleasantries and decorum had been exchanged.
“We have refreshments waiting for you on the rooftop terrace,” I said with a red-lipped smile. “The rain will hold a bit longer. Would you like to take a few minutes and enjoy the view?”
I felt Hadrian’s coiled tension like it was my own.
He turned his attention to Nico, and then Angelo swooped in immediately and offered me his arm in a gesture of old-world, gentlemanly charm. My hand trembled when I touched him.
“Hadrian didn’t mention a woman would be here with him,” Angelo said. We glided away from the helipad toward the other side of the roof.
He didn’t sound upset, but he was clearly fishing for information. “And he definitely didn’t mention it would be a woman that speaks Italian.”
I forced a smile but didn’t reply. It was better to say as little as possible. Fear—and revulsion—were dueling inside of me. This man, Angelo, was my mother’s older brother. Instead of protecting her, he’d gone along with their father’s edict and attempted to marry her off to the Foscari.
I hated him.
Everything about him and what he stood for was vile. I hated that he was the head of the Moretti family and with his power he could control the outcome of my life.
