Francesca didn’t bother knocking on the set of carved doors. She merely walked inside, holding her head high as the heels of her boots clipped against the terracotta floor. She’d elected to wear jeans and cowboy boots, a far cry from what I was used to seeing her in. Somehow the attire suited her more so than glamorous frocks.
Her father seemed frail, unsteady as he rose to his feet, remaining behind an ornate and very large desk. They stood staring at each other for a few seconds until he offered a smile.
I heard the sound of four others behind me, all waiting in the wings in case of trouble. Her father darted his eyes in my direction, acknowledging my presence. He was no fool. He’d been told of the various details of a meltdown of the Massimo empire and my participation in helping that along.
“Francesca,” he said almost meekly. For a rich and powerful man, he seemed resigned that he’d lost the favor of his only child.
“Father,” she said with almost no emotion. “You’re looking well.”
Antonio sighed and walked around the corner of his desk, moving in my direction. “I see we have a guest.”
“And you know exactly who Michael is, Father. I’m certain you had a significant part in attempting to assassinate both him and his father.” Her words were frank, but I felt the anger creeping in.
“Michael Cappalini,” Antonio said as he closed the distance, holding out his hand. “How is your father?”
I shook his hand, eyeing the sadness in his eyes. The man had been under significant duress. “Ricardo is well. I wasn’t aware that you knew him.”
He chuckled and studied me for some time. “You look very much like your mother. I know your father well, Michael. He and I were very good friends many years ago. We might have lived on different continents, but we managed to spend some time together. After all, we were the sons of great leaders. I understand he is recuperating.”
The irony that he’d connected with my father, another mafia heir was fascinating, a foreshadowing of the Sons of Darkness. Words my father said clicked. “You have connections.”
“Of course I do, son. They’re essential to my business, one I hoped she would embrace one day. I understand now that is never going to happen.” Antonio walked toward a bank of windows, giving his daughter a heartfelt look.
“How could I ever trust you again, Father? Did you sell me off to Franco, hiding behind this ridiculous marriage to Vincenzo?” she snapped.
He didn’t respond and within seconds, she’d grabbed his arm, yanking him to the point of almost stumbling. As soon as I walked closer, he held up his hand, shaking his head. “My daughter deserves an answer. I assume that’s what you came for.”
She laughed, her hand raised as if she was going to slap him.
“Don’t,” I said quietly.
Francesca pulled back, exhaling. “You’re right. He’s not worth it.”
I knew there was more to her father’s despair and the decision he’d made. “You knew my father had fallen in love with Sophia Massimo.”
Antonio seemed surprised, almost pleasantly so, as if one weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Yes. I introduced them. You see, there was a time that I was interested in Sophia, but we were distant cousins. When she went to America in order to become an actress, I followed her career, even visiting her from time to time when I was there on business. I’d already begun the takeover from my father, so my services were required from time to time.”
“I wasn’t aware that you had any business in the States,” I commented, becoming more curious.
“How do you think your grandfather obtained seed money, becoming powerful as well as notorious?” Antonio sighed. “Your grandfather was a brutal man, much like mine was. The old ways. Ricardo and I wanted to do things differently. One day, I introduced your father to the woman I still had significant feelings for.”
“You never told me this,” Francesca half whispered.
He shook his head. “Water under the bridge, my dear. Sophia made her choice and I moved on. Was I resentful? For a time. But Ricardo was fascinating and debonair. He had connections to powerful people in Hollywood. And they loved each other almost instantly.”
“Dante Massimo never forgave you for the introduction.” My words seemed to hang in the room.
Francesca groaned. “Did he force you to convince me to marry Vincenzo?”
“That was one reason. Yes. Dante is a man who holds a grudge for a long time and he never forgives,” Antonio mused. “He wanted to make certain that he had control over your father’s organization, and he was uncertain whether I was still friends with Ricardo.”
“But that’s not all,” I suggested, walking closer. The pieces were beginning to fall together.
He slumped, unable to look either Francesca or me in the eyes. “No. As I said, he was very powerful. Dante was also aware of the horrible things his son had done over the years. Franco was… pure evil. Dante was forced to cover up for several indiscretions.”
“Including my sister’s death.” Francesca folded her arms, a defiant look remaining on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? That son of a bitch pressured you. Why didn’t you go to the authorities and have the bastard locked up? Both of them. And why would you go along with it? They had nothing on you but some old friendship.”
“Because your father couldn’t. Could you, Antonio?” I hated even asking the question.
He finally locked eyes with mine, giving me another respectful nod. “No.”
“Why? What the hell is going on, Father?”
Antonio walked toward his daughter, reaching out his hand then pulling back. He seemed willing to talk to her, but I could tell the man was going to hold back. What secret was he hiding?
“That’s it. You were ready to sell off your daughter because of an old friendship with Ricardo Cappalini,” Francesca laughed, her eyes flashing.
“What I did was wrong, but I felt I had no choice.” Antonio’s voice was strangled.
Francesca turned her head toward me, her expression forlorn. “Well, Father, the Massimo family has been destroyed. You are no longer prisoner of some wretched, sick game. But you need to know this. I will never take over the family operation. I don’t want your money. You can keep my trust. Maybe give it to charity. I am going back to the United States where I’m going to live the rest of my life in peace surrounded by love. Thank you for at least telling me the truth.” She turned sharply, walking toward the door.
I studied Antonio. He was a broken man, much like my father had been after my mother’s death. Secrets and lies had a way of finding destruction along every path.
“I’ll be right there, Francesca. I need to speak with your father for just a few moments.” My eyes never left Antonio as I said the words. I could tell she was surprised but didn’t challenge me. I glanced over my shoulder until she was out of earshot. Then I took long strides, coming within two inches of the man.
Antonio opened his eyes wide, but there was no fear in them. “You love my daughter.”
“Yes, I do. With all my heart.”