His brow furrowed slightly—a crack in the mask. Clearly displeased with my response. The Young Don of the Volpe Family was not accustomed to refusal.
I wanted to ask about the dissolution.
About the blood oath I'd shattered when I signed those papers.
But then I thought better of it. What was the point? He'd made his choice the moment he left me bleeding on that floor.
He pulled a checkbook from inside his tailored suit jacket—Brioni, I noted distantly, the kind of fabric that cost more than most soldiers earned in a month—wrote down a figure, and placed it on the table between us.
"This is compensation. I hope you won't blame Massima."
The moment I saw her name, my whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.
Massima.
Massima.
The woman who had stolen my research. Who had clawed her way back into Volpe favor through seduction and lies. Who had pushed me down those stairs and watched me fall without a flicker of remorse in her eyes.
And he wanted me to forgive her.
"Get out!"
The words tore from my throat like a scream.
"I don't ever want to see you again, Nico!"
"Massima? I'm going to report her to the authorities—I don't need your blood money!"