Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(60)
Maybe a third of the hands in the room are raised, most of them Sal’s men. Leo counts and writes the total on a notepad. “Nick Angelino.”
The rest of the room raises their hands. It’s a solid majority, and I can’t help but smirk a little as Leo takes the final tally. I can almost feel the rage coming off Sal, but he’s keeping his mouth shut for the moment. I give that about another ten seconds.
“Official total puts Nick Angelino in charge until Spada’s back among us. The next—”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Okay, less than ten seconds. Sal’s on his feet, his face turning a dull purple as he spits his words across the table. “You can’t put this stupid motherfucker in charge!”
“You want to present evidence as to why not?” Leo asks calmly.
Sal starts tallying on his fingers. “He owes me a fuck ton of money, per Spada’s orders. He fucking destroyed my car. He kidnapped my fiancée from our engagement party—”
Leo breaks in. “Do you have any actual proof of any of this?”
“Of course I do. I—”
“You’ve got nothing, De Luca.” This is Chris. I almost wish he’d kept his mouth shut—there’s no real benefit to having my own men stand up for me, because what else are they going to do? “You have a contract from Spada? You have any evidence as to who fucked up your car? You have any goddamn proof Sarah didn’t leave you voluntarily? I mean, I sure as fuck would have.”
That brings a bit of laughter, some of it even from Sal’s own men, as they hide it behind their hands. I almost don’t manage to stop the grin that wants to curl my mouth. If he can’t keep his own men in line then he’s done. And that’s perfect. Everything I planned has worked out. I’ve undermined any trust his men had in him, any respect he still had in the organization.
“You’re going to listen to him?” Sal protests. “He works for Angelino. How can you trust a goddamn word out of his mouth?”
“This discussion is over,” Leo says firmly. “The vote is finished, and you lost. I suggest you figure out how to deal with that before our new boss decides to deal with it for you. In the meantime, this meeting is dismissed. Nick, I need to talk to you for a few minutes to get you up to speed, but the rest of you can go on your way. We’ll be contacting you with further instructions shortly.”
So that’s it, then. I’m the new boss whether Sal likes it or not. Everything I’ve done over the past few weeks has led to this. I get up from my chair, straightening my jacket, and head to Leo’s end of the table. I’ve got a good bit of catching up to do if I’m going to be filling Spada’s shoes for the foreseeable future. I hear Sal sputtering, but I don’t even dignify him with a glance. He’s not worth it.
Chapter Eleven
Sarah
The morning after my wedding, I wake up alone. So much for a romantic start to married life.
I vaguely remember Nick saying something to me early in the morning, though, before I drifted back off to sleep. Maybe he didn’t just abandon me.
Moving through my morning routine, I’m pleased to discover I’m not nearly as nauseated this morning. I head downstairs, thinking I’ll actually try to grab a decent breakfast for a change.
There’s a note on the table from Nick. I read it—he had to go in to an emergency family meeting. Vaguely I wonder what that means but decide it’s probably not something I need to worry about.
Once I’ve had breakfast and gotten dressed, though, I’ve found other things to worry about. I haven’t been to the bakery in ages, what with everything that’s been going on. I should probably check on things, see if there’s been progress as far as determining if the building’s still safe. If it is, and if I continue to feel better, I can start looking at opening for business again.
I leave Nick a note in return, in case he comes back before I do. Then I grab the keys to my favorite of Nick’s cars and head downtown. Correction—my husband’s cars. My husband. It sounds nice.
The nice feeling doesn’t last very long. I can tell something’s wrong as soon as I catch sight of the bakery. The windows are boarded up. My heart leaps into my throat, fluttering there so fast I’m afraid I’ll choke on it. I pull into a parking spot on the street and go to take a closer look. There’s a FOR SALE sign in a corner of the front window and a lockbox on the door.
What the fuck? My hands shake as I fumble my keys out of my purse. I can’t get the key to the front door to fit into the lock. At first I think it’s just because I’m freaking out, but that’s not it at all. It just plain doesn’t fit. Somebody’s changed the locks.