Be With Me: Chapter 38

The second crystal tumbler smashed against the window, and shards rained down onto the hardwood floor. “That son of a bitch!”

Dad didn’t lose his temper easily, but the disaster at the restaurant had pushed him over the edge. The drive back to the penthouse had been the tensest fucking car ride of my life.

“I’ll call the staff to clean this up,” Mother said, eyeing the broken glass.

“Not now,” Dad barked. “You can handle a little mess, Vita.”

Jesus. He was snapping at her. That’s how you knew it was bad.

I walked over to the bar and splashed some whiskey into the last surviving tumbler. I needed a fucking drink. Rage still simmered beneath my skin at the veiled threat against Mia. But more than anything, I was furious with myself. I hadn’t been able to stop it. Hadn’t been able to defend her.

The only comfort was knowing I’d never let my father touch a hair on her head. I didn’t care what it took. If I had to play her personal bodyguard, so be it.

He. Would. Not. Hurt. Her.

“How did we let it come to this?” Dad seethed. “How is he still leading in the polls? We’ve spent months digging, and what do we have? Nothing.”

Mother’s sharp gaze snapped to me. “The daughter, Romolo. You were supposed to have something we could use weeks ago.”

My jaw clenched. “I’m working on it.”

“No. We’re done waiting,” Mother snapped. “If she doesn’t have anything useful, then we use her. We’re out of time. Where are the photos?”

The photos. The compromising ones of me and Mia that I told her I’d get.

They didn’t exist. Never fucking would.

“Pictures are easy to Photoshop,” I said dismissively. “It’s a weak plan.”

“Then get a video. Quickly. Humiliate her in it. Even if it doesn’t sway the election, it’ll sting. Morales won’t be able to bring her out for the rest of the campaign.”

Bile rose in my throat. She was out of her fucking mind. Was she actually asking me to film a sex tape—one designed to degrade Mia—and release it?

“You’ve done worse,” she said coldly, as if sensing my hesitation. “Don’t act like you’re above it.”

A charged silence filled the room. Alessio watched me with furrowed brows. Cosimo’s expression was harder to read, but his eyes flickered with something that might be concern.

They didn’t know what she was referring to.

Thank fuck for that.

It was true. I had done worse.

But that was before I met Mia.When the family was all I had. Now I had something more, even if it was just fucking fleeting. I wasn’t going to repeat my past mistakes with Mia, no matter what it cost me.

“Romolo.”

My gaze snapped back to Mother’s. “Yes?”

Arms crossed, she tilted her head. “Is there a problem?”

I took a slow sip of my drink. “No. I just think we don’t have time for petty distractions.”

“It’s an order. End of discussion.”

“Fine,” I gritted out. “Give me a few days.” When I came back empty-handed, I’d be ready with an explanation. Something along the lines of Mia refusing to see me this close to the election. For all I knew, after that fucking lunch, that might already be the truth.

That encounter had been a brutal reminder of why our days together were numbered. And it made me want to break something.

Dad leaned back in his chair. “We have to prepare for Morales’s win. He’s too confident. There’s a chance he has something on us.”

“You’re letting him get into your head.” Mother’s voice was tight. “He doesn’t have anything. We have to stay calm, be smart, and keep a tight rein on our operations and our people.”

My father picked up a heavy paperweight, his fingers flexing around it. “If this deal with Alvarez falls through, it’ll shake the confidence of our partners, not to mention the family.”

“I just got some news,” Cosimo said, eyeing his phone. “We got access to the flight logs for Alvarez’s private plane. It looks like he came to the States last week. Landed at a small private airport at the Finger Lakes. We weren’t able to track them past that, but we’ll be ready if he returns. Know anyone in that area?”

My grip tightened around the glass.

The Finger Lakes?

Mia had mentioned Morales had a meeting there over Labor Day weekend.

Dad’s gaze flicked to the city skyline. “No one comes to mind, but it’s a good lead. Any further movement—anything else you find out about that visit—I want to know immediately.”

The whiskey burned as it went down my throat. A coincidence?

My gut said no.

But if Mia’s father was involved with the same people trying to sabotage our deal with the Colombians…it would mean a level of corruption even my mother hadn’t anticipated from him.

I could ask Mia. Try to get more information.

If she was still willing to speak to me at all.