Page 5 of Twisted Throne

“Paul Borrelli. And you are?” I said before she could speak, making it a point of ignoring the delicate hand she had outstretched toward me. I wanted to keep her off balance. A pale pink blush rose from the swell of her breasts up to her cheeks. We were standing close enough that I could almost feel the heat of her skin.

“I’m Gia, well Gianna, Fredricks. I’m here to see M-Mr. LaRosa,” she squeaked out, looking up at me and drawing her hand back.

I have been told I make an imposing figure, and at 6’4" I towered over her petite frame. She kept eye contact with me, even though I knew I’d rattled her.

“You have business with him?” I asked, amused at her obvious discomfort.

She took a deep breath, seemingly to steady herself before she replied.

“I do. My mother passed away recently and I found some things that have led me to believe he may be… he might have… I think he might be my father,” she finished in a rush.

I stared at her a moment, then turned around and began walking down the hallway to Angelo’s office. “Come,” I called back over my shoulder.

She scurried behind after me, wobbly heels clacking on the marble-tiled floor, and caught up just as I reached the door to the office. Alec and Carlos were both standing just outside the door, Alec looking pissed off and Carlos looking concerned.

“He said to send her in alone,” Carlos said, raising an eyebrow at me.

I narrowed my eyes, then opened the door and gestured the girl inside. She glanced around us, then squared her shoulders and stepped through, the door closing softly behind her. The three of us moved a few feet down the hallway away from the office door before speaking.

“Who does she claim she is?” Alec demanded.

I shrugged. “Said her name is Gianna Fredricks, and that she thinks Angelo might be her father. Her name doesn’t ring a bell, though. Carlos, call our computer guy and have him dig into her. I want to know everything, as soon as possible. Tell him we need a full report sent directly to Angelo or myself,” I ordered.

Carlos gave a brief nod and turned and began walking away, almost running into the elegantly dressed blonde walking down the hall. He stepped around her without acknowledging her and she came to join Alec and me, her eyes wide.

“Did I hear that right? Angelo has a daughter?” she asked incredulously as she moved to stand by Alec, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Alec stepped slightly away from her and gave her a sharp look.

“None of this is any of your concern. Why are you even here?” he said coldly.

Everyone knew Alec and Elena had a strained marriage, but he wasn’t usually this short with her, not in public at least. His main goal seemed to be to stay as far away from Elena as he could, just trotting her out like a trophy for social events and so on. None of that stopped Elena from trying her best to keep up appearances.

She flinched at his tone, then perked back up with a practiced smile.

“Oh, I was just downtown doing some shopping. You had mentioned you would be at the office this morning and I thought I’d drop in and see if you wanted to join me for lunch?” she chirruped at him.

“No, I don’t. I’ll see you at home tonight,” Alec said curtly, then spun on his heel and walked away.

Elena looked up at me, still with that pleasant smile on her face.

“He just stays so busy! I keep telling him he should take a break, but you know how he is,” she said with a soft laugh as she turned to leave.

Arrogant, coddled, not half as tough as he thought; I knew perfectly well how Alec was. But he was a known problem, and I was too busy thinking through this latest surprise. The timing of all of this was suspicious with all of the unrest with the Sabitino family going on at the moment. But why would Junior send in a plant or a spy if he already has someone on the inside? I don’t believe in coincidences either, but she had a look of truth about her. Either way, Gia Fredricks was an unexpected challenge.

Chapter Four

Gia

I can’t believe I’m actually sitting across a desk from Angelo LaRosa, alleged crime lord. Alleged philanthropist. Alleged father.

It hadn’t been too hard to track him down. I’d called the Youth Center he had recently sponsored and told them that I was a reporter for a (fictional) online magazine that wanted to interview him about the project. They sang his praises and were more than happy to give me the address of his office.

He examined the necklace with care, then lay it gently down on his desk as he read the letter again. His face remained stoic, but I think I saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.

I had brought a folder with me—it felt a little bit schoolgirlish, but I wanted to keep what documents I had together. Along with the letter, it held thenecklace, mybirth certificate, and a few old photos of Mom. He smiled slightly as he looked through the photos he held in his perfectly manicured, but calloused hands. If he didn’t speak up soon I was going to scream just to break this awkward silence filling the room.

“I remember Catherine, although I only knew her briefly. She had a beautiful voice. She can sing with the angels now,” Angelo said softly. “If I’m remembering correctly, I gave her this as a token of my appreciation after the first time I saw her perform in my club. She was enchanting.” He looked past me for a moment, and I wondered what he saw. “I’m sorry for your loss. What is it that you want to come of this meeting?”