“I did,” Alberto agreed. “You’ll be a little late for breakfast because of the traffic, but it was semantics anyway.”
Violet’s brow furrowed as she dug for the access key that would let her in through the back emergency door of her building. She needed the front desk people to at least see her walk by them in case her father asked after her at some point.
“Semantics?” she asked.
“Your friends are here,” was all he said.
She knew then what was happening. The events of the night before involving Ruslan and Franco had not gone unnoticed by her father. Amelia’s lies had probably been exposed.
Alberto Gallucci was not the type of man to beat around the bush. She had told her father the truth of what happened, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would not have sent Franco after Kaz’s brother, based on her side of the story.
But her father didn't know that she knew.
So, she feigned ignorance. “Why are my friends there?”
Alberto sighed, heavy and angry at the same time. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Wonderful.
He hung up the call without a goodbye.
Violet managed to get inside her building, and took a quick look at the screen of her phone. She had another ten minutes to be at the front waiting, if Gee’s estimate of time had been anything to go on. The man was known for his fucking punctuality.
His time was right and she knew it.
The decorative mirrors along the back hallway that led into the main floor where the elevators were stopped Violet. She grabbed the small toiletry case out of her purse, and did what she could to her face and hair with what time she had, and what products were in the bag.
She made a mental note to keep more in it next time when she was left with nothing more than a bit of color to her cheeks, red lipstick, and mascara. The single black elastic in the bag was more than enough for her to pull her messy hair back at the nape of her neck, and flip the hair up in and around to make it seem like she had put far more effort into the updo than what she actually had.
Messy was a style, after all.
Checking her appearance one last time, and pulling a few strands of hair out to let it frame her face, she grabbed her purse off the floor and headed for the front. She didn’t give the front desk a second glance, and they didn’t seem to notice that she hadn’t come out of the elevators.
Her heart still pounded like crazy.
The building’s front door just closed behind her when Gee pulled up.
Violet walked in on what she could only describe as a somber mood. The dining room table was filled with people—Amelia, Nicole, their parents, Violet’s mother and father, and her brother. There was even a couple of other men standing in the corner of the room, gazes trained on Amelia, and faces as blank as stone.
“Violet,” Alberto greeted, barely glancing up from the phone in front of him.
“Morning, Daddy.”
He waved a hand at the free chair beside Nicole. “Sit.”
The command was laced with the sound of his obvious irritation. Violet chose not to argue, and grabbed the chair to sit as fast as she could. Her father looked her over, taking in her appearance quickly before his attention was back on that phone again.
Silently, Violet let out a breath of relief.
If Alberto hadn’t been satisfied with the way she looked, he would have said straight away, regardless of who was around to hear him criticize her. She figured what with the adrenaline rush the entire morning had been, she probably looked fresh-faced and wide awake.
Maybe she should thank Kaz for driving like a freaking maniac.
Alberto swiped at the screen on his phone, and scowled.
“Nothing?” Christian asked from where he sat, directly across from his daughter.
Nicole flinched at her father’s question, her head dropping a little lower.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia whispered.
Vito shook his head, rubbing at his temples. “Boss—”
“Shut up. Fermo, stolto,” Alberto barked, the volume of his shout echoing through the dining room. Even Violet dipped her head, and she knew damn well it wasn’t her in trouble. “Do you know what your daughter has done now?”
“I know,” Vito replied quietly.
“I cannot even get a response from the Russian. It’s bad enough when I do have to speak to any of them, but let me just say it is far worse when he will not answer a call.”
Violet’s head snapped up, finding her father seething mad, but with a bit of panic lingering there as well.
“And for what?” Alberto asked, waving at Amelia. “So she could make that idiot jealous?”
Amelia sniffled, using the heels of her palms to press against her eyes. Violet wanted to feel some sort of sympathy for her friend … but she couldn’t find any. Amelia had always liked to play stupid games with Franco, things that would draw him back to her before she pushed him away again. Ruslan had probably been another one of those stupid games.
But it wasn’t a game.
Those kinds of lies killed people.