Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Ow, shit,” I say, shaking my hand, as Emily staggers backward and falls to the floor, yelping and screaming in pain. Blood’s gushing from her nose, ruining the rug.
“Nice punch,” Stefano says, putting an arm across my shoulders and steering me away back into the hall. When we’re alone again, he pulls me tighter against his side. “You shouldn’t have done that. The Westbrook fortune—”
“I don’t want it.” I face him, hands on his chest, and get on my toes to kiss him lightly. “I never wanted it. Not really. It gave me a reason to get up in the morning, but now—” I let that hang in the air.
He kisses me harder. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. And don’t worry. I still have a hefty trust fund.” I pat his chest lightly before striding off. “You still married a rich girl.”
“Thank God,” he says, pretending to sound relieved.
Chapter 33
Charlie
Dad’s much more composed the next day when he shows up at the trucking depot. He strides into Stefano’s office and frowns at the cramped space before slumping into the only available chair, crossing his legs like he owns the place.
“Let’s get to it then,” he says, tossing a folder onto Stefano’s desk. “That’s everything I have.”
Stefano looks at the paper like it’s going to infect him before sliding it over to me. I sit perched beside him and pick it up, flipping through. There are call logs, receipts, text messages, and emails. But no smoking gun. Nothing that directly implicates my grandfather.
I raise my eyes at my father. “I thought we said we were going to get concrete proof.”
“That’s what I have,” he repeats, waving a hand. “Now it’s yours. Go ahead and convince the Marinos with it, I don’t care. Are we done now?”
I stare at him. I honestly can’t believe this asshole doesn’t get it. Slowly, I lower the folder and drop it onto the desk. “I’m not sure we were clear last night.”
Dad snorts and makes a face. “You were loud and fu—” He glances at Stefano and pales slightly. “You were very clear, Charlie. You want proof that your grandfather’s been playing along this whole time. Well, everything I have, it’s all in that folder. There you are. Prove away.”
“That’s not proof. We don’t give a shit about half-baked text messages.” I stand up and come around the desk. Stefano looms behind me, not moving, but Dad’s eyes keep flitting back to the big, dangerous killer. He’s scared and trying to mask it. “You’re not here to drop off a folder. You’re here to get fitted for a wire.”
Dad’s eyes widen. “Wait. A wire?”
“You know, the recording devices? They’re not actual wires anymore. The technology’s gotten a lot better. But the idea’s the same.” I stoop down and tap Dad right on the chest. “You mic up. You talk to Grandfather. You get him to admit everything.”
“And if he catches me? I just waltz out of there?” Dad’s pale now and shaking his head. “Come on, Charlie. This is crazy.”
“I don’t care.” I stand up straight. “Stefano, call in Davide.”
“Who’s Davide?” Dad asks, panicking. “There’s got to be another way. Look closer at those files. There are receipts. Money we paid to contractors. You’re not really asking me to—”
Davide enters the office. It’s pretty cramped now between two huge mafia guys, my trembling Dad, and myself. Plus all the toppling piles of paperwork. “Did someone call for a wire?” He holds up a little box big enough to hold a necklace. He flips it open and a very small microphone is placed in the center of a velvet cushion. Add in some precious stones and it’d be pretty chic.
“No way.” Dad shakes his hands in the air. “No way! I’m not wearing that!”
“It’s pretty simple.” Davide explains how to tape it somewhere discreet, like on his lower back or at his hip. “But keep it away from your clothes the best you can. You don’t want feedback.”
I bend down to look Dad in the face. “You want to become the heir, don’t you? You want to run the family? This is your only shot.”
His lips twitch. “But Dad’s crazy. He’s so paranoid, Charlie. His rooms are swept for bugs twice a week. You know that.”
“I know, but you’re a desperate man. And sometimes you’re even clever. If anyone can pull this off, it’ll be you.”
He groans and stares down at the tiny microphone nestled in its plush box. “How’d you end up like this? Honestly, Charlie. I don’t recognize you anymore.”
Anger flares in my chest. I get right in his face, practically snarling like a dog. “You made me this way. You and Grandfather and everyone else in our fucked-up family. You made me this way and now you have to fucking live with it. That means no more whining. No more complaining. You do what you’re told or Stefano murders you. I’m done negotiating.”