Chapter Thirty-Four Adriana
Iwas still steeling myself to go inside when I heard my sister’s voice.
“Can’t believe you swiped Dad’s baby,” Carmen’s voice broke through my thoughts as she sauntered over, her red hair a fiery contrast against the melting Boston snow. A chuckle escaped her lips, light and carefree. “Bet he’s going to have a fit.”
“Let him try,” I replied with a smirk, even though I knew better than to rile up Silvio Orsini. I stepped out, my boots crunching on the gravel driveway, and straightened my jacket.
Dad was waiting at the front door, his aura one of deceptive calm. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed back, and that familiar smile that never quite reached his eyes greeted us. “Enjoy the ride, Adriana?” His voice was smooth, but the hardness behind it was unmistakable.
“Only took it for a couple of joyrides.” I shrugged, trying to match his nonchalance.
Carmen’s laughter rang out again, bright and untamed. But Dad – he didn’t laugh. “That isn’t funny,” he said, and there was a warning in his tone.
“Where’s Mom?” I quickly changed the subject, not wanting to linger on thin ice.
“Alessia’s on a trip with her friends. She drove into the city earlier today,” he answered, gesturing us inside. “I think they’re staying in New York all week.”
“That sounds nice,” Carmen said.
“It does,” I replied, then mouthed a thank you at Carmen. She had to know Mom wouldn’t be here, she wouldn’t have planned this otherwise.
“Well, you know how much your mother enjoys her trips,” Dad said. “Come, breakfast is ready.”
We followed him into the dining room, where the table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, the smell of fresh espresso mingling with the scent of baked pastries. It felt like any other morning in the Orsini household, if only you ignored the undercurrent of unease.
“Twins kicking all right?” Dad asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee as we sat down at the table.
“Yeah, they’re little fighters,” I replied, my hands unconsciously resting on my belly. “But that’s not what I want to talk about, Dad.”
He set his cup down with a careful precision, signaling he was ready for the shift in conversation. “What is it then, Adriana?”
I took a deep breath, feeling my heart pound against my chest. This was it – the moment I’d been steeling myself for since I realized who my father truly was. “Why are you going after Tristan? Why put our children in danger?”
“Your children are never in danger. Your children are my grandchildren and I love them.”
“Right, but Tristan is their father, and–”
He held a hand up to stop me from talking. His face remained impassive, but I saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Adriana, these matters—“
“Are family matters,” I cut in sharply. “And Tristan is family now. Our children will be Callahans too. You can’t just brush this off.”
Silvio sighed, his eyes briefly closing before locking onto mine with an intensity that made me hold my breath. “Malachy’s murder has left us in disarray,” he admitted, and his voice held the weight of unspoken fears. “And now with the attacks on our territory, we don’t know who’s behind anything. Who’s trying to take them down, who’s trying to take us down…”
“Then why target Tristan? If anything, we need him alive more than ever,” I argued, my voice laced with frustration.
“Because, Adriana,” Silvio said, leaning forward, his hands clasped tightly together, “with Tristan out of the picture, the Orsini family can ensure control over the Callahan empire. It’s for our protection. For your protection. Since Tristan will have a son, his brother Kieran might take over in the interim, but you will always be the queen…provided Tristan Callahan is dead.”
My heart sank. The truth I had feared was laid bare. My father wanted Tristan dead, and nothing, not even the bond of unborn children, seemed sacred enough to stay his hand.
I pushed the untouched plate away, the food suddenly unappealing. The rich scents of bacon and eggs, once comforting, now filled the room like a heavy fog, suffocating me with the stench of betrayal.
“Tristan won’t fall easily,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me. “He’s got his own people, his own...plans.”
Silvio raised an eyebrow, intrigued by my knowledge. “And what might those plans be?”
“Does it matter? They’ll never come to pass,” I declared, locking eyes with him in silent challenge. “I’ll handle Tristan myself, after we’re married. It will be cleaner that way.”
For a moment, Dad regarded me with a mixture of what felt like astonishment and newfound respect. “You would do that? For the family?”
“Of course,” I lied smoothly. “Isn’t that what you’ve always taught me? Family above all else.”
Carmen watched us both, her expression unreadable as she sipped her coffee. I could feel her gaze on me, searching for a sign of weakness, but I gave nothing away.
“Very well,” Silvio finally conceded, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I’ll call off the dogs, but only until the wedding. After that, Adriana, you must do what you promised.”
I nodded, the ghost of a smile dancing on my lips. “Understood, Daddy.”
Silvio leaned back in his chair, fingers tented as if he were in prayer. “I need to know, Adriana. Why the sudden change of heart? What made you decide to embrace your legacy now?”
“Things are getting dangerous,” I lied, weaving truth with fiction like a spider spins its web. “I can’t sit on the sidelines anymore. And I want to continue the Orsini line, to ensure our name commands respect for generations to come.”
His features softened, and for just a moment, I glimpsed the father I once idolized before the throne of power had completely ensnared him. “My dear girl,” he murmured, relief flooding his voice. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Your loyalty is...everything.”
“Of course,” I replied, feeling the weight of the lie settle in my stomach like lead.
He studied me, eyes narrowing slightly as though trying to peer into my very soul. “How do you plan to ‘disappear’ Tristan without raising suspicion? You’re not considering doing this without a capo’s help, are you?”
A chuckle escaped my lips, hollow and mirthless. “No, definitely not. I’m waiting to get some legal protection first—inherit some of the Callahan estate—before I do anything rash.”
“Smart,” he praised, nodding approvingly. “Very smart. Those boys think with their hearts, not their heads.”
“Isn’t that right?” I agreed, my mouth dry.
The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting a golden glow that failed to warm the chill in the room. Silvio stood, signaling the end of our breakfast summit. “We’ll discuss this further. For now, prepare yourself. We have much to do before the wedding.”
“Understood,” I said, rising to my feet. My path was set, the die cast. Now all that remained was to play my part—and pray that I could survive the finale.
The chill of the Orsini estate in Boston’s winter morning clung to my skin as I rose from the ornate dining chair. The crystal glasses on the table caught the light, but none of it seemed to reach the hollow inside me. Silvio, with his salt-and-pepper hair catching the sun’s rays, stood up, a satisfied smile upon his lips.
“Let me bring out some champagne to celebrate,” he said, his voice a smooth, rich timbre that belied the dangerous man beneath.
I nodded, feeling the lie curling in my throat like bitter smoke. “Actually,” I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside, my hands going to my bump. “I’m not feeling too well. I think I need to go back home and rest. And it’s not like I can drink the champaign, Daddy.”
“Of course,” he replied, the smile widening into a grin. “Silly me.”
Carmen looked at me for a long second. “Of course,” she said crisply, “I’ll drive you.”
“Rest then, Adriana,” my dad said. “I know things have been wild. Let’s reinstate Sunday brunch. Your mother misses seeing you every week.”
With a last look at my father, I followed Carmen out of the room, the marble floors echoing our departure.
As soon as we settled into Carmen’s car, the tension that had been coiling in my chest began to unravel. Carmen turned the key in the ignition, the purr of the engine a soft backdrop to the inevitable conversation.
“Did you mean what you said back there?” Her voice was direct, cutting through the silence.
“No.” The word was out before I could catch it. “Regardless of everything, I love Tristan.”
“Then what are you going to do?” she asked, pulling away from the estate, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
My fingers drummed against the leather seat, the rhythm erratic. “I don’t know,” I admitted, staring out the window at the blur of snow-covered streets. “But it’s clear someone needs to die.”