40. Power Exchange
Chapter forty
Power Exchange
(Danica)
Dante insists on starting the shareholder meeting, not because he thinks I can't handle it but because he knows the other Dons are as old school in their beliefs as his father was—they need a man in charge to introduce change of this magnitude.
But today's the day that changes for good.
The men are sat around the freshly-painted boardroom with its stunning 180-degree view of the ocean stretching out beneath us, eight stories down.
This new corporate office space—neutral territory I selected specifically for this purpose—feels worlds away from the dark backrooms where family business was previously conducted.
But nobody is looking at the ocean, nobody but me.
They're all looking at either Dante or the proposal he's about to present on screen.
I don't need to look; I've spent the four weeks we’ve been back from Bali fine-tuning this plan and working on the numbers with Luigi. We stayed up till 3 AM last night to review it all again to ensure every detail was solid.
To say the port business the Volkovs once controlled is a mess would be an understatement.
Things have run wild for too long, systems and processes had been mere suggestions rather than the rule. It would take time to detangle the mess, but our preliminary audit already shows the potential.
I am determined to make this work, to transform this operation into something legitimate and profitable. Something built to last. Something better than what came before.
Being apart from Dante during our audit these past days has been difficult.
But I had to figure out the ports, and he had to figure out how to hand over the other businesses. There wasn’t exactly a blueprint for what we were doing.
I didn't think I would miss my darling boy this much. It took me all these years to realize just how much I can't live without him.
Those smutty books I love so much had me believe love was the instant part, the attraction, that desperate need for someone's skin against your own—that fire.
But it's so much more.
It's the after part, the work, the shared trauma, the comfort, the feeling of coming home as soon you envelop yourself in their familiar scent after a long day.
I can't wait until the initial restructuring is over, so I can spend more days working from home and see more of my Dante.
He's been a completely different person. Even in the short time since we formulated this plan, I've seen him relax more than he has in years.
The fact that he's switched to wearing actual sweatpants at home is a huge step; he used to be so anal about those perfectly ironed black pants of his.
Focus, Danica.
The meeting carries on as Dante outlines our proposal, explaining how a legitimate port management company with proper corporate structure would benefit everyone.
He walks them through the transition plan, emphasizing that they'd all retain ownership stakes while gaining the protections of legitimacy.
"Gentlemen," Dante says, his voice commanding the room, "what we're proposing is not abandoning our interests, but evolving them. Every family represented here would hold shares proportionate to their current territorial claims, with the Fera family maintaining majority control."
There's muttering around the table. Don Antonio leans forward. "And who exactly would run this...corporation?"
Dante meets my eyes briefly before answering. "That brings me to the most important part of our proposal."
I take a deep breath. This is the moment we've prepared for.
"To head this enterprise," Dante continues, "we need someone with a clean record. Someone who can move freely in legitimate business circles. Someone with the intelligence and determination to make this succeed." He pauses. "And that person is…my wife, Danica Fera."
The men eye him suspiciously, some with outright disbelief on their faces.
I get up, shoulders straight, as Dante formally introduces me. "Gentlemen, I present to you the proposed Managing Director of Fera Incorporated."
The dumbfounded men just stare at me for a second, the silence deafening.
It's Don Greco who starts clapping first. "Excellent idea, Don Fera. A clean criminal record would be great for the business." He gets it.
Relief washes over me as the men start clapping, reluctantly at first.
"Thank you." I keep my voice stern, formal, as I address the room. "As Don Fera has outlined, our proposal offers a path to stability and growth without the constant risks we've all faced. The ports are a goldmine of legitimate opportunity that we've barely begun to tap."
I'm halfway through explaining our new corporate structure when Don Vinci clears his throat pointedly, his wizened face twisted in thinly veiled contempt.
"With all due respect, Don Fera," he says, not looking at me but at my husband, "this is a peculiar choice. Running the ports requires...experience. Authority." His gaze finally slides to me, dismissive. "Not someone who might be more suited to...simpler tasks."
The room falls silent. I can feel Dante tensing beside me, ready to step in. But this is exactly what I've been preparing for. If I let him fight this battle, I'll never truly command these men's respect.
I smile, the kind of smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "You're right about one thing, Don Vinci. Experience matters." I hold his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. "And I've spent the last several weeks experiencing firsthand how inefficiently these ports have been run for decades."
A surprised murmur ripples through the room. Don Vinci's face darkens.
"You misunderstand me, Mrs. Fera—"
"Perhaps we both misunderstand each other," I interrupt smoothly, my voice calm but firm.
I slide a folder across the table to him.
"This contains a preliminary report on your shipments over the last six months.
You'll notice your containers have been delayed an average of fourteen days longer than any other family's.
I've already identified the exact bottlenecks and have a plan to correct them immediately upon taking control. "
Don Vinci stares at the folder, clearly not expecting this level of detail. I knew the asshole was going to come for me. Men like him were so predictable.
"I may not have decades in this business, Don Vinci, but what I bring is fresh perspective and determination.
And unlike many"—I meet his gaze steadily—"I have no old grudges or territorial disputes clouding my judgment.
Just a clear vision for how these ports should operate and the drive to make it happen. "
I let that sink in before continuing. "However, if my methods don't yield the results you expect, you're welcome to challenge my position in six months. I believe in accountability, even if I'm still learning the business."
The old Don's expression shifts, not quite to respect, but to something closer to wary assessment. He nods once, sharply.
"We shall see," is all he says, but it's enough.
I catch Dante's eye and detect the barely concealed pride there. This is why we work—he knows when to stand back and let me fight my own battles.
"Now, shall we discuss the specifics of the transition?" I ask, seamlessly returning to business.
The rest of the meeting proceeds with pointed questions but gradually decreasing resistance. It's clear that some, especially Don Vinci, still have their reservations about this move, but the dynamic has shifted. They're listening now, not just tolerating.
And then it's done.
The vote is taken, the proposal approved.
Just like that.
The Dons seem finally pacified, perhaps seeing the wisdom in our plan, perhaps simply eager to write this matter off as resolved. Everyone has better things to do than sit in the Fera Inc. Boardroom discussing corporate structure.
I make sure to keep my handshake firm as I offer my hand to the men upon exit, boldly making eye contact with each one individually. When I reach Don Vinci, he hesitates a fraction of a second before taking my hand.
"An...interesting approach, Mrs. Fera," he says, the formality in his tone slightly less dismissive than before. "We'll be watching your progress closely."
"I would expect nothing less," I reply, my grip just as firm as his. Not backing down, not challenging—just equal.
It's a small victory, but in this world of old men and older rules, small victories are just the beginning.
Dante stands by my side, just a bit behind me, accepting congratulations from the Dons like he's achieved something amazing.
"Donna Fera," Don Greco nods on his way out, the final guest. It's good to see him again, but not as good as hearing him call me Donna Fera. It makes me feel important, established, powerful.
If only they knew just how powerful.
How their fearless Don Fera crawls on his knees before me.
But they will never know.
Our secrets are not for these men.
Nobody else knows about the cuts across his flesh, hidden by his fancy I'm-the-Don outfit of black pants and open-collared shirts.
I am dying to slip a collar around that neck when we get home; it looks so bare without it.
My mind drifts as we see our important guests out, standing beside Dante as so much more than just his loyal wife this time.
This is my legacy now.
I am eons from the person I used to be, the person Dante met that fateful night at the restaurant when the universe brought us together—if you were one of those cosmic people who believed in such things.
I'm no longer that helpless child that nobody wanted, the one who almost died in the shed as her brothers just laughed.
Fuck all of them.
When the door finally closes behind the Dons, I let out a huge sigh of relief.
I've been stressing about this meeting for weeks, even during our honeymoon when I should have been completely focused on Dante and Alessio.
I know it's only temporary, that I'm technically on probation, but there is no doubt in my mind that I'll have the results I need in six months. The foundations are there—I just need to build on them.