Chapter 3
Michael Richardson was still a very intimidating figure, even though cancer had ravaged his body and stolen a lot of his former physique.
He was at least six feet tall, with grey hair and steely blue eyes, and he still had the presence of a man used to command.
Despite being in a wheelchair, he still wore a formal suit and polished Italian brogues, finished off with a pale blue silk pocket square.
Typical Mafia don, just without the cigar and goons holding rifles.
Antonio walked into the room and immediately knelt to kiss his father-in-law’s hand, a gesture which earned a scoff from his brothers-in-law. He deliberately kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to meet his father-in-law’s gaze.
“Antonio Blackwood,” the words were spoken with more than a hint of disgust. “For all your status, you come before me like a worm that should crawl on the ground. What say you in your defence?”
“I have nothing to say in my defence, sir ?” Antonio kept his eyes on the floor. “I have no defence.”
“Now he shows respect to our family?” Damon snorted, spitting at him. “After everything he’s done to our sister, now he wants to come begging forgiveness? I should end your life on the spot, dog!”
“Damon, enough!” Michael’s voice was stern. “Let him speak.”
Everyone turned to stare at Antonio, who remained on his knees in the middle of the room.
The tension was so thick you could have swum in it, almost like wading through treacle.
All around him, disgusted expressions rammed home the enormity of what he’d done.
He could have sworn he heard one of the staff tutting, although he didn’t dare point it out.
“Sir, I have spoken to Alyssia ?”
“You dare speak my daughter’s name in my presence!” Michael hissed through a sudden bout of coughing. “You who have broken her heart, made a mockery of your marriage vows, defiled the sacred marriage bed … you dare to speak my daughter’s name? You should be ashamed of yourself, Blackwood!”
“I am, sir, believe me, I am,” Antonio stuttered. “I don’t even know how to start apologising for my actions, or how to earn your forgiveness.”
“You are beyond forgiveness!” Damon snarled, shrugging off his brother’s warning hand and stalking towards him, hand straying towards his weapon. “Were it up to me, you would be begging for death where you stand.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not up to you!” Michael wheezed, waving him away. “Sit down, Damon, or I will ask your brother to escort you out.”
“Yes, Father.” Damon bowed his head and stepped back. “Forgive me.”
Silence fell as Michael waved Damon’s apology away and gestured for Matthew to bring him some water, before fixing Antonio with another angry glare.
For his part, Antonio did his best not to throw up, his heart racing with fear.
For all that he wielded immense power amongst his own family, in the Richardson house he was lower than scum.
“So tell me, Blackwood.” Michael’s voice was slightly hoarse, but still firm. “What possessed you to betray my daughter’s trust not once, not twice, but … I believe it was thirty times? Did you temporarily lose your faculties? Fall into a drug-induced haze? Drink too much? Tell me, what was it?”
“I don’t know.” The floor started to become more and more interesting the longer he looked at it. “I have no excuse for my actions.”
“That’s not good enough!” Damon shouted, unable to contain himself.
He shrugged off his brother’s hand once again and grabbed Antonio’s jaw, forcing him to look up at him.
“You had the world, Blackwood, and you’ve destroyed it for what?
Some broad in a bar? A prostitute? Or was it a ‘lady of the night’, as I hear they’re calling themselves now? ”
“I’m sorry!” Antonio sobbed, tears beginning to run down his face. “I know I’ve lost everything, I know I screwed up, but I cannot give up on my wife! Not now … not when everything’s starting to change ? ”
He didn’t care if it made him look weak, he didn’t even care that his tears were dripping onto Damon’s hand.
The only feelings he had were intense shame and heartbreak as he thought of his wife and how lonely she must have felt waiting for him to come home night after night.
The shame threatened to overwhelm him, and it was all he could do not to throw himself on the floor and beg Damon to beat him to a pulp.
Michael gestured for Damon to let go of Antonio and looked him straight in the eyes, waiting for him to regain his composure. A tense silence fell over the room, and nobody dared to break it until Michael was finally ready to speak again.
“What makes you think you’re worthy of forgiveness?” he asked, coughing slightly. Antonio took a deep breath and swallowed before answering, eyes still firmly fixed on the floor.
“I’m not worthy, sir.”
“Tell us something we don’t know, Blackwood.” Damon’s voice was still sarcastic and angry, and he wondered if that would ever change. Swallowing hard, he tried to think of a reason for his in-laws to forgive him, but he eventually gave up.
“I’m not worthy of forgiveness, sir. I’m not going to pretend that I am. All I can tell you is that I will accept any punishment, any disgrace, any beating … if it gets me back to Alyssia, I will do it.”
Michael looked Antonio up and down, rubbing his lips with a finger as he thought. While Antonio was arguably the most pathetic excuse for a son-in-law he’d ever seen, he was also a Blackwood, and that demanded at least a tiny amount of courtesy.
“You say you will do anything to earn my daughter’s trust?”
Antonio glanced up at him and nodded, before returning his gaze to the floor. The carpet was dusty, and he wondered if anybody bothered to hoover it.
Alyssia would probably know someone, he thought, before realising Michael was still waiting for an answer.
“Anything, sir,” he said, not daring to say anything else. Michael nodded again, still rubbing his lips with his finger.
“Very well. We will spare your miserable life – for now.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” his father-in-law chuckled. “My daughter will send you a list of our requirements, and hers, in order to be given a chance of forgiveness.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Do you?” Damon snorted, unable to help himself. “If you understand the gravity of your actions, scum, why did you repeat the same action time after time? Any decent man would have stayed faithful to begin with!”
“Damon!” Matthew snapped. “Father has spoken. You may not agree with his decision, but you will respect it.”
“You’re right, brother. I don’t agree with this decision!
” Damon replied, derision in every syllable.
“This … worm doesn’t deserve to live, and he should be thanking the saints that his body’s not riddled with holes!
Instead, he just says ’I understand, sir’ like some businessman.
He’s a coward, a liar, and not worth a second more of our sister’s time! ”
“And that’s for Alyssia to decide,” Matthew replied, taking his arm. “She’s the eldest, and the next leader of our family. When Father passes ?”
“He’s not dead yet!”
“No, but he will be one day, and when he dies, we will both have to answer to our sister. Better to respect her decisions now, than make an enemy of her later.”
Damon growled his disapproval, but acknowledged his brother’s words with a raised hand.
Despite being the youngest of the three, Matthew often spoke the most sense, something Damon struggled with.
It was something that Antonio was becoming more and more grateful for, since he suspected that Matthew had been instrumental in him staying alive.
“Leave, worm, before I make an enemy out of my father,” Damon rumbled, and Antonio scuttled out of the room on his knees.
As he left the house, he felt the weight of the situation descend squarely onto his shoulders, and he began to truly realise the consequences of what he had done.
It felt like an impossible task to regain his wife’s trust, but he knew that it was something he had to at least attempt.
Even if they were never together again, he was about to be a father, and he had to set a good example for his child.
“To work, now, sir?” Simeon asked mildly, glancing at him in the rearview mirror as he slid into the car. He nodded silently, pulled out his phone, dialled a number and waited for an answer before ordering a dozen red roses to be sent to his wife’s office.
“You can’t buy her affection, you realise,” Simeon observed. “Mrs Blackwood has never really been one for fancy gifts or flowers. Better to take her to dinner, or go to an appointment with her – you know, for the baby. Something meaningful.”
“I’m well aware of that, but it costs nothing to let her know that I am thinking of her.” Antonio snapped. “If I don’t at least try, what sort of man am I?”
“The cheating kind, sir.”
Antonio looked at Simeon in the mirror, only mildly annoyed at his remark. He raised an eyebrow at him, and Simeon looked back at him with a cool gaze, before turning his eyes back to the road.
“Does everyone know what has gone on?” he asked, wondering why he’d bothered to ask when he already knew the answer.
“Yes, sir. Mrs Blackwood was very keen to make us all aware of what had transpired.”
“Fantastic,” Antonio groaned, slumping back in his chair. “I guess I’ll be eating my own cooking for a while, then.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, sir. We are, after all, still your employees. Killing you does us no good, you realise.”
“Doesn’t stop the chef from spitting in my dinner, or serving me something I’m allergic to.”
“This is very true, sir, but I have advised the staff not to do anything of the sort. After all, we were hired by Mrs Blackwood to serve you, and her word is law. We are to treat you with the same respect as we always have.”
“Thank you, Simeon. I appreciate that.”
“We’re not doing it for you, sir. We’re doing it because Mrs Blackwood told us to.
Were it up to me, I’d be letting everyone gossip from here to New York, spitting in every meal you had, and putting rats in your bedsheets.
After all, even the heir to the Blackwood family needs to know his place from time to time. ”
“I’m sure you would, Simeon.”
The car pulled up outside Antonio’s office, and he stepped out of the vehicle with a relieved sigh. At least his colleagues would treat him as they normally did.
That illusion was firmly shattered when he walked through the front door and his secretary stalked over to him with a face like thunder, shoes clicking precisely on the floor as she walked.
She grabbed his arm, frogmarched him over to the elevators and pressed the button for the top floor, where the company’s owner worked.
“The boss wants to speak to you.” Her voice was curt, her gaze absolutely furious, and her already rigid posture somehow even more rigid than ever. A horrible premonition crept over him, and he very nearly threw up in the bin.
“Should I pack up my desk and leave now?”
“I believe it’s already been packed for you, although you’re still employed … for now.”
“Let me guess … we’ve been moved to the top floor?”
“Well, look who’s a psychic,” Janice’s tone was incredibly derisory, and he closed his eyes as he realised what that meant for her.
“Did they at least say you could use the elevator?”
“They did, after I explained to them that forcing me to walk up those stairs would lead to my arthritis getting worse. The boss isn’t too keen on losing his best secretary over your indiscretions.”
The rest of the elevator ride was uncomfortably silent, with both parties studiously avoiding each other’s gaze. After what felt like years, they finally reached the top floor, and Antonio headed straight for the owner’s office, feeling thoroughly defeated.