Page 47 of Contract of a Billionaire

The memory of our unsuccessful lunch had my smile falling. “Maman?”

“Yes, ma chérie.”

“Are we connected to the Corsican mafia?” My mother froze on the spot. Okay, I could have done a better job leading in.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked, her voice small.

I didn’t want to tell her I found out from Alessio’s father. It would upset her if she knew I spoke a word with that asshole.

“So it’s true?”

“Christian,” she yelled, a slight panic in her voice.

“Maman, it’s ten at night,” I scolded her in a hushed tone. “Dad’s probably sleeping.”

“Nope, here. Wide awake,” he showed up at the doorway of the kitchen. “There’s leftover dinner, baby. Are you hungry?”

I shook my head. I had dinner with Alessio already, but of course, I couldn’t say that. I shifted on my feet, back and forth, avoiding looking at dad’s eyes. He was always very perceptive and stupidly I worried he’d see in my eyes the truth. That I was mad about Alessio Russo.

“Your daughter asked about our connection to the Corsican mafia!” Maman said pointedly.

The air stilled and the two exchanged a glance. Silence stretched, tension rose.

“Oh my gosh, it’s true,” I gasped in a low voice. “How– ” I pushed my hands through my hair. “What– “

“Maybe it’s best we go sit down?” Maman recommended.

God, was the shit so bad that we had to sit down? Dad’s face was harder to read than Maman’s but neither one of their expressions soothed the nerves inside me.

The three of us made our way into the living room. Pictures of my happy childhood stared at us from every corner of the room. Three of us at the beach. Three of us on an alligator farm. Visiting Paris, Maman’s favorite place in the world.

I sat down on a loveseat and crossed my legs, anticipation building.

“Did they approach you?” Father broke the silence.

“Who?” I asked, confused.

“The Blanchets.” I shook my head.

“They’re alive?” My eyes kept darting between my parents, trying to read what was coming.

Maman took a deep breath in and let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe we should start at the beginning,” she recommended.

“Goddamn it, I didn’t want our daughter worrying about shit like this,” Father grumbled. Both of them were seated together, as always, Father holding Mom’s hand. His gaze, so similar to mine, came to me. “I guess we’ll start with, yes, it’s true. Maman’s father was head of the Corsican mafia.”

“He still is,” she pointed out.

Father rolled his eyes and it would have been comical if the subject was anything but this. “Yes, he still is. Anyhow, they were my case. To bust them for drug distribution they had going on between France and the States.” I waited patiently. Maman always said they met while she sang in a bar. “I’d monitored the Blanchet family for weeks. One night, I see this girl climbing over the wall and jumping down before disappearing into the night.” Father’s eyes flicked to Maman’s and they instantly softened. It was always like that with them. “I followed her to a bar. It turned out your mother had a job, under a false name, playing the piano and singing in a bar. We fell in love, but I knew there’d be no keeping my job and getting the woman of my dreams. So I quit my job, but maintained all the tools that helped me do it.”

“Huh?”

“Baby, I developed a software that allowed me to tap into the home of the president. It was a useful tool to have to keep your mom safe.”

“I think I’m impressed,” I murmured.

“Don’t be, because once your mom and I decided to elope, we brought trouble to our doorstep. Not only from the underworld but also from the secret service.”

My eyes flickered to their hands. They always touched each other, held hands, kissed. Like they couldn’t get enough of each other. But now as I watched my mom’s knuckles turn white as she gripped Father’s hand, I realized he was her strength too.