Chapter 5 #2
"In our world, they're often the same thing," I remind her, the words bitter on my tongue.
"Enough of this," I say, setting down my knife and fork. "I need to think."
I push back from the table, the legs of my chair scraping against the polished floor. The sound cuts through the tense silence hanging over the dinner table.
"Damiano—" Lucrezia starts, but I silence her with a look.
"Not now, Lucrezia."
Her mouth snaps shut, hurt flashing in her eyes. I feel a pang of guilt but push it away. I can't think clearly with all of them staring at me, waiting for answers I don't have.
"I'll be in my office," I announce. "Don't disturb me unless it's an emergency."
I wake to sunlight streaming through the curtains I forgot to close. My head pounds—the result of too much whiskey after dinner. The nightmares came again, but fragmented, less vivid. Small mercies.
I shower, letting scalding water wash over me. I find myself thinking about Easton's proposition. About his daughter.
By the time I make my way downstairs, the others are already seated for breakfast. Lucrezia picks at a pastry, while Enzo and Alessio discuss something in low voices. They fall silent when I enter.
"Good morning," Lucrezia says cautiously, watching me.
I pour myself coffee, black and strong enough to cut through the remnants of last night's whiskey. The familiar bitter taste grounds me.
"I've been thinking," I say after taking a long sip.
All three of them straighten, attention laser-focused on me. The power in that simple reaction isn't lost on me—my family hangs on my every word, waiting for direction.
"About?" Enzo prompts when I don't immediately continue.
I set my cup down. "About Easton's proposal."
Lucrezia's eyebrows rise, surprise evident in her expression. Alessio's face remains impassive, but I catch the slight narrowing of his eyes.
"I think we might consider this opportunity," I say slowly, measuring each word. "Not necessarily as Easton intends, but on our terms."
"You're considering the marriage?" Lucrezia asks, unable to hide her shock.
I lean back in my chair. "I'm considering keeping my enemies closer. If Easton wants to place his daughter in our household, perhaps we should let him."
Alessio runs his thumb along his bottom lip, thinking. "You want to use her to watch Easton."
"Exactly," I nod. "We'd have someone connected to Easton under our roof, someone who might unintentionally reveal his true intentions."
"A hostage without being a hostage," Enzo says with a slow smile spreading across his face.
"If we do this," I continue, "we'd have eyes on Easton's daughter all the time. Every phone call, every visitor, every movement."
"That's..." Lucrezia hesitates, searching for the right word. "Calculating."
"It's smart," Enzo counters. "Easton thinks he's playing us, but we turn his own piece against him."
I take another sip of coffee. "This isn't a decision I'm making lightly. But Easton's sudden interest in an alliance through marriage? There's more to it than business advantages."
"You still don't trust him," Alessio states.
"Not for a fucking second," I confirm. "But sometimes the only way to understand the trap is to step into it carefully, with your eyes open."
Enzo clears his throat, swirling his coffee thoughtfully. "The strange thing is, Byron rarely appears with any family member in public. Not in society events, charity galas, business functions—nothing."
This catches my attention. "What about this daughter?"
"That's the thing," Enzo sets his cup down with a soft clink against the saucer. "I've heard she exists, but that's about it."
"Dig," I say simply. "I want to know everything about this woman before I make any decisions. Education, friends, habits, where she shops—everything."
"What if she's just shy?" Lucrezia suggests, but even she doesn't sound convinced.
I shake my head in disbelief.
Enzo pulls out his phone, already tapping away at messages. "I'll put our people on it. As soon as I have information, I'll let you know. Shouldn't take more than a day to take the basics.."
I nod, satisfied. "Good. And Enzo—"
"Yeah?"
"Make sure whoever's digging keeps it quiet. If Easton catches wind we're investigating his daughter, it might spook him before we understand what game he's playing."
"Got it. Discreet but thorough."
I drain my coffee, the bitter liquid matching my mood. Something about this whole situation feels wrong—Easton's sudden appearance, his convenient business proposal, and now this mysterious daughter he wants to marry off to me.
There are no coincidences in our world. Only carefully laid plans.
I stare at the financial reports spread across my desk, but the numbers blur together. My mind keeps drifting to Easton's proposal—and the blonde by the pool. The way she looked at me. Something in her eyes...
A knock interrupts my thoughts.
"Come in," I call, straightening in my chair.
Enzo steps into my office, a folder tucked under his arm. His expression tells me he's found something.
"Got the information you wanted," he says, closing the door behind him.
I push the financial reports aside. "Let's hear it."
Enzo drops into the chair across from me and opens the folder.
"Zoe Easton," he begins. "Twenty-five years old. Born to Byron and his late wife Elizabeth Easton. Mother died during childbirth, leaving Byron to raise her alone."
"No stepmother?" I ask.
"None. By all accounts, he devoted himself to raising her. She attended Constance Billard School for Girls—expensive private school. Then Columbia University, graduated with honors in business and finance. She also spent a year studying abroad in Florence."
Italy. Interesting.
"What about her public presence?" I ask, leaning forward.
"Limited. She appears occasionally at charity events with Byron, but she's not a socialite. According to my sources, Byron has kept her somewhat sheltered. Private tutors in addition to school, carefully selected friends, that kind of thing."
I drum my fingers against the desktop. "Any boyfriends?"
Enzo shakes his head. "None serious enough to make it into any records. I have people looking into that further, but Byron seems protective. Very protective."
"Too protective," I mutter. "Anything else?"
"She's his only heir. Set to inherit everything when he dies. Easton Enterprises, real estate holdings, investment portfolios—all of it. We're talking billions."
I let out a low whistle. "No wonder he's trying to secure her future with a strategic marriage."
"There's one more thing," Enzo says, pulling out a photograph and sliding it across the desk. "This is from a charity gala last year."
I pick up the photo. It shows the blonde from the pool, standing beside Byron. Her smile is perfect. But her eyes... there's something in them I recognize. A carefully hidden sadness.
"She's beautiful," I say, setting the photo down.
I tap the edge of the photograph with my index finger. "Arrange a dinner," I say finally. "I want to meet her first in person. If we're going to do this, I need to establish ground rules."
Enzo raises an eyebrow. "Ground rules for an arranged marriage?"
"Precisely." I stand and move to the window, looking out over Manhattan's glittering skyline. "This isn't some fucking medieval arrangement where I'm getting an obedient housewife. If Easton wants this alliance, there are terms."
"I'll arrange it," Enzo says, collecting the folder. "Dinner with Byron and Zoe. Somewhere neutral but private."
"No," I counter. "Our territory. Marea restaurant. I want them on our ground."
Enzo nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Smart. I'll make the arrangements. When?"
"Tomorrow night." I return to my desk. "The sooner we get this sorted, the better."
"You really think this could work?" Enzo asks, pausing at the door.
I look down at the photo of Zoe Easton once more. There's something about her that intrigues me. Something beyond the beauty, beyond the potential alliance.
"I think it's worth exploring," I say carefully.