Twenty-two #2
His hand stays on the page like he can hold it in place.
Marci doesn’t respond. She reaches forward, turns the page for him, and taps once near the middle. “Keep going.”
She leaves her hand there a moment longer than necessary.
He doesn’t. The hesitation is visible now.
Patrick’s fingers tighten slightly on the folio. “Before we go any further,” he says, looking directly at Chiara, “we need to clarify authority. This agreement is between families. Representation runs through your father.”
He leans forward just enough to try to take the room back.
It’s late. He knows it.
Chiara doesn’t move her hands from the folder in front of her. “Then you’ll want to proceed carefully.” Her voice doesn’t rise.
“You don’t have any rights to negotiate this,” he says, leaning forward slightly. He waits this time.
“She’s not signing your document.” Marci’s tone doesn’t change. “The only one you’re getting a signature on is the one I’ve just given you and that is only after they agree and sign.”
Grant flips forward, faster now, the paper snapping under his thumb. “You’ve removed integration,” he says, tapping the margin. “You’ve changed control to your client, no commingling.”
He keeps scanning as he talks.
“Yes,” Marci says.
“That’s not something both sides would agree to.” He looks up, expecting resistance.
“As her representatives, you’re comfortable advising her to accept the alternative?” Marci asks.
Elena sits back. “I think what we’re trying to say is that this was negotiated in good faith, and we were told she was in agreement.”
“Did they tell you she was out of town and unreachable?” Marci stands and we all stand. “Since this agreement is between my client and Palo Ammazzlamorte, I’ll send it over to his counsel.”
The door bangs opens.
Massimo walks in without being announced, his keys hitting the table with a sharp crack as he drops them near the center.
The sound cuts through everything. Every head turns. Even the men along the wall shift their attention.
“Why are you here?” he says, dragging a chair back with his foot but not sitting. “Why didn’t you tell Pop that you’d be here to sign?” His gaze moves across the table, not stopping until it lands on Chiara. He doesn’t look at anyone else.
He plants his hands on the table, leaning over the documents, his gaze fixed on Chiara. The papers beneath his hands shift slightly from the pressure.
“She’s here with her attorney and is looking to restructure the agreement.” Patrick speaks quickly, stepping in before the silence stretches too long.
“You can’t do that,” he says. “You don’t get to change nothin’.” He doesn’t look at Patrick when he says it.
Marci reaches forward, lifts the top page he’s leaning over, and slides it back into place with two fingers. The movement is small. Controlled. It forces him to adjust without asking.
“I have my own lawyer here to represent my interest,” Chiara stares him down. She doesn’t lean back. Doesn’t give him space.
“We have an agreement,” he pushes back. “You agreed.”
“I was twelve, and no court will enforce that,” Chiara replies. “I’m not signing the one you made without my thoughts.” Her voice stays even. The words don’t rush.
“Why are you so fucking difficult?” Massimo yells. “Just sign the agreement so we can move on.”
The volume breaks the control he walked in with. The room tightens.
“She’s not signing anything,” Marci says. She doesn’t raise her voice to meet his.
He rushes her in seconds. Two of Jim’s team are holding him back.
He struggles as Jim’s team holds him.
“Let me go,” he screams. He fights the hold but not cleanly. It’s force without control.
Jim stands and gives his team a subtle nod, and they release Massimo.
“I’m sorry, but it looked like you were going to assault Ms. Bullucci.” Jim doesn’t step forward. He doesn’t need to. The room resets around him.
“Who the fuck are you?” he yells. Massimo straightens, but his breathing hasn’t caught up yet.
“I’m head of her security.” Jim flexes his jaw muscles, and right now if I were Massimo, I’d be a little frightened.
I watch the shift. It’s small, but it’s there. He clocks it.
Marci clears her throat, and everyone looks at her. She doesn’t move. Just waits until she has the room.
“You’ll want to read the agreement before you speak,” she says. She nudges the document forward an inch. Not offering. Placing.
Massimo doesn’t look at her. He keeps his focus on Chiara like he can force the outcome through her.
“This ends now,” he says, his voice rising as he looks at the attorneys. “You’ll sign the agreed upon agreement and proceed properly.”
Chiara lifts her hand and sets it flat on the folder. The movement is quiet. It stops everything. “How are you going to make me sign a document, I refuse to sign?”
She doesn’t look away from him.
“Well, it looks like we have a kink in the plan,” Elena says. Her voice cuts in clean. No emotion. Just assessment.
Massimo straightens slightly, turning back to Chiara. He resets his stance, but the edge is still there. “You don’t dictate how this works.” He taps the table once. “Not here.”
“What are you going to do?” Chiara replies, sliding the document an inch toward the attorneys. “If your lawyers won’t submit my counter to Palo’s attorney’s then we will.”
The paper moves slowly. Deliberately.
“Father is going to—” He starts.
“What? Kill me? Signing this agreement is doing the same thing, and I’m much smarter than that.”
The room goes still around the words. No one interrupts.
“You will not leave today without signing the agreement we negotiated.” He says it slower now. More controlled.
“Yes I will, and there is no way you can force me.” She doesn’t raise her voice to match his.
Massimo’ purses his lips, his gaze flicking briefly to the attorneys before returning to her. “This doesn’t move forward. Not like this.”
Neither Grant, Patrick, or Elena reach for the document. No one claims it.
That’s it. They’ve lost it.
Marci picks up her phone and presses a few buttons, and we hear a swoosh of an email being sent. “Great. I just sent our agreement off to Edward Hale, Palo’s counsel.” She sets the phone down without looking at anyone.
Patrick’s eyes grow large. “But that isn’t…” He stops himself mid-sentence.
“We figured we’d have to negotiate with him anyway.” Marci stands, and we all stand.
Chairs move as we stand.
“Tell Pop I’m sorry I missed him.” Chiara doesn’t look back as she says it.
We file out to the lobby. As Cindy arrives with a tray of coffee and waters, we step into the elevator, and when it opens on the ground floor, Jim’s men step in close around Chiara. There is no way they’re going to do anything to stop her.
No one follows or calls after us.