Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“What you’re saying would guarantee the Biancos would try to take us out.” I shake my head at the absurdity of the whole idea. “They’re ten times our size and even more powerful than you are back in France. If you think we can take them—”
“The Biancos will not be a problem. You are correct that we cannot hope to defeat them in an open fight, but I will make sure the situation doesn’t escalate to that point. Before we destroy Petrovic, I will approach Don Bianco and cut a deal with him, one that I hope will be mutually beneficial.”
I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Bad enough the old man wants to start a war with Dusan—but he wants to ally himself with the Biancos too?
“Absolutely not. There is no way I will ever get involved with them.”
“Think clearly, Julien. They are the power here. If you’re smart, you’ll be on their side.”
“Then I’m not smart. I’ve opposed the Biancos for years and nearly started a war against them. I won’t go crawling to their side like a mangy dog.”
Grandpère’s lips curl as he shakes his head. “You are letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”
“And you don’t know a thing about this city.” I shove my chair back and stand. “I will not go to war with Dusan, and I will never ally myself with the Biancos.”
“Careful, boy,” Grandpère says, his tone sharp. “Remember who runs this family.”
“And you remember who came to America with almost nothing and established this branch. Half of my men don’t even know who you are.”
Grandpère stands. Rage flashes across his face. I stand my ground, but I can see where I went too far: to him, it just sounded like I was threatening to rebel.
And maybe I was.
“I will give you a day to rethink that position, boy. I made you once, and I can unmake you just as easily.”
Grandpère leaves my office. I watch him go, struggling to get my emotions under control. I hate the old man, but I also want to earn his respect and approval. It’s the exact dynamic that forced me to leave France to begin with, and now it’s playing out all over again across the ocean and in my own house.
I have to find a way to get rid of the old man before this situation spirals even further out of my control.
Chapter 7
Brianne
The lights are dim at Le Palais Gourmet. I hesitate out on the sidewalk, trying to catch a glimpse of Julien through the large front windows. The men and women eating look so chic and elegant, and I feel totally wrong in simple white jeans and a black top. At least I’m in dark strappy heels and the front’s low cut enough to get a few approving looks from passing men. Which isn’t what I’m here for—getting ogled by strangers doesn’t exactly feel good—but at least I know I’m on the right track with the cleavage.
I have to psych myself up before going inside. When I tell the hostess that I’m here to meet with Julien, she immediately gets all serious and ushers me toward a booth in the back, asking if I want any wine or if there’s anything she can do at all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fancy restaurant employee practically fall over herself to be accommodating, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re on a date with the owner.
Or maybe it isn’t a date. It’s more like a business meeting. I have to remind myself that this is an arrangement, not a relationship, and we’re just using each other.
“Good evening, mon minou,” Julien says as I approach the table. He’s in a dark suit like always, no tie, top two buttons of his dress shirt left open. I stiffen when he touches my arm and leans down to gently kiss both my cheeks.
“Very European,” I mutter and slide into the seat across from him.
He’s smiling now and I can tell he did that just to knock me off balance. “I’m glad you could make it. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
“After the other night.” He shrugs and gestures in the air. The waitress comes over and pours two glasses of wine. He takes a long sip.
I drink from mine. The red is rich and oaky and very, very good. I lick my lips and remind myself to take it easy. He’s my future husband, but he’s still Julien, and I have to be careful around him.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t great you dropped that whole grandfather thing in my lap, but the five grand really softened the blow.”
His eyes flit to my chest and linger on my breasts before moving up to my lips. “You look nice tonight.”