Chapter 7
How stupid was I not to stash money aside in case my life fell apart?
I have a master’s degree.
I should’ve gotten a job, but I saw my path in life as helping others.
That’s why it’s important I keep working at the shelter. They depend on me.
Julian showed me to the guest room last night and handed me the contract. I took a bath, reread the contract, and couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the handwritten additions he’d added to it.
Can I really give up hope of finding true love and sign my life away to him?
One thing I do know is that I’m never trusting a man again.
Not with my finances, my heart, or any-goddamn-thing.
I wouldn’t even trust one with my coffee order at this point.
Maybe a contracted marriage with no expectations—other than a baby and not marrying someone else—is the answer for me.
I have no interest in a relationship that’s doomed to fall apart, and if there’s anything I know about Julian, it’s that he’s straight-up, no bullshit.
So, I have my stipulations to add, and I’ll sign.
“How long will it take me to get my own place?” I ask, changing the subject from volunteer talk. “Since you won’t let me stay in the condo that’s still legally mine.”
He furrows his brow in frustration. “I thought I’d made it clear that you’re staying here until we come up with a better arrangement. Finding you that arrangement is at the bottom of my priority list.”
“What’s at the top?”
“You meeting with my attorney since the Feds want to interview you.”
I draw in a deep breath.
Never in my life did I think talk to the Feds would be on my agenda.
“You let my attorney do all the speaking,” Julian continues with a stony stare. “Don’t say a fucking word unless they ask you a specific question and my attorney okays it.”
I make a zip motion across my lips.
I wouldn’t know what to say to them anyway.
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” he adds. “I’ll keep you protected, Genesis.”
It’s not every day you have to select an outfit to wear to an interview with the Feds who might think you were involved in fraud. My options are also limited since I don’t have a full closet any longer.
I went with a tan plaid pleated skirt, a collared white button-up, and flats.
Simple and not too flashy.
I stare at the New York skyscraper, where Julian’s attorney’s office is located.
Warren Gettinburg. I’ve heard of him.
He’s expensive as hell but notorious for winning high-profile cases. If you’re being charged with murder, he’s on the list of attorneys to hire. Prosecutors have publicly said they fear when he takes cases because it makes their job ten times harder.
I unbuckle my seat belt and peer at Julian. “Will having an attorney make me look guilty?”
“No,” he replies. “Even if it did, who cares what the Feds or the public has to say? Caring about people’s opinions won’t make you richer or happier. It’ll only make you miserable.”
I play with my purse strap. “That’s easy for you to say. Everyone fears you.”
He offers me a satisfied smile. “And that’s my goal. I don’t care if they like me.”
Julian has done well at staying out of the public eye. He’s not flashy with his money, nor does he care about the notoriety. Though, in his line of work, people know who he is and fear his name, but it’s not as extreme as the attention Antonio gets. Most eyes are on the bosses of Mafia families.
Four Mafia families run New York—the Marchettis, Lombardis, Cavallaros, and O’Connors.
Lately, the Marchettis have started building relationships with the other families. They arranged a marriage with Benny Marchetti, the son of Cristian Marchetti, who’s the boss of the Marchetti family, and Neomi Cavallaro, the daughter of Severino, who’s the boss of the Cavallaro family.
Most recently—and shockingly—Cristian’s daughter married Antonio.
That was a shit show and as arranged as I am a ferret. Everyone thought Cristian would murder Antonio at the altar. I attended the wedding, and Julian was there as well. I made sure to flirt with Cristian’s nephew, Luca, to make him jealous. It worked.
“All right, Gen,” Julian says, “you ready?”
He gives me a moment to take deep breaths.
I nod and grip the door handle. “Not really, but let’s do this, I guess.”
Emilio—another man who works for the Lombardis—is already at my door waiting for me to step out.
“We’ll meet with Warren first,” Julian explains when we’re in the elevator.
My nerves are on fire, and I’m thankful he’s with me.
And even though I’m throwing out attitude, I’m also grateful he rescued me from my father’s office last night.
“Hi, Julian,” the secretary greets, her tone too flirty for my liking, when we exit the elevator and enter the lobby.
Oh my God, am I already getting jealous?
I smile at her, telling myself to be nice.
Julian ignores her and takes my hand, and we speed-walk toward an office with glass doors.
Warren stands when we walk in, clad in an expensive suit. He smiles, his teeth pearly white, and shakes Julian’s hand first.
When he takes mine, it’s warm, and his grip is tight. “Hello, Genesis. It’s nice to meet you.”
He gestures for us to sit and takes his chair behind his desk.
I make myself comfortable on the leather chair while Julian stands behind me, like a guard protecting me from harm.
Warren doesn’t seem surprised at Julian’s lack of sitting and goes straight into questioning me. I answer as honestly as I can.
I had no idea what my father was doing and still don’t understand why he did any of it. Reputation meant everything to him. I guess he preferred to die rather than hear how people are talking about him now.
My mother was also worried about her status and image. I’m sure she’s reading and watching everything the media says about her.
Good. She deserves their harsh words after what she did.
She knew what he was doing and helped him.
People have left comments about her fleeing the country, claiming it makes her look guilty.
They can’t say the same about me.
I’m here, dealing with their consequences.
I deleted all pictures on my socials and disabled my accounts. I also removed all my connections to the shelter I volunteered at, worried the chaos would follow me there.
“Genesis,” Julian says, snapping my attention back to the conversation.
I wrinkle my nose. “Does pleading the Fifth make me look guilty?”
“No, it makes you look smart,” Julian fires back.
I glare up at him.
“They’ll have no problem twisting your words,” he says. “Inform them you had no idea of your father’s crimes and you’re learning the details at the same time as the media. Let Warren work his magic, and we’ll get you out of this mess. Only answer a question when he nods toward you.”
Julian’s all business right now.
I need to be the same.
My freedom is on the line.
People could try to pin my father’s crimes on me.
Just like with the Russians, I could be the one to face the consequences.
I offer Julian and then Warren a simple smile and nod. “Sit there and say nothing unless you nod an okay to me. Got it.”