to him.
Among his brothers, he was the one who had an equally close and friction-free relationship with all. Yet he’d allowed not even them beyond the serene facade he’d refined.
They believed it was Wildcard—or Ivan Konstantinov as he now called himself—who knew Antonio fully, as he’d been closest to him since childhood. But Antonio hadn’t even let Ivan in on everything he’d been through or everything he was. He hadn’t told Ivan anything he was doing or planning now.
While the others had searched for their families, sought reunion with them and/or revenge on those who’d stolen them away, Ivan, who’d come to The Organization old enough to know his family, had elected not to contact his family once he’d been out. Antonio had elected not to bother with either finding his origins or seeking revenge. Or so he’d told his brothers. In reality, he’d found out everything about his family.
What he’d learned had made him think The Organization had done him a favor by abducting him. His Italian aristocracy family put its members through hell for appearances’ sake, which they enforced at any expense, even abandoning or destroying any of them who threatened their traditions and standing.
As they had him.
His mother’s pregnancy when she was seventeen had threatened their image. Her inappropriate lover had been dealt with, while she’d been taken away to avoid the scandal. The same day she’d given birth to him, he’d been given to an orphanage, from which he’d been culled by The Organization less than four years later. Up until that day he’d lived hoping his “real family” would find him.
It turned out he’d been better off with The Organization than in the Accardis’ sterile, cold-blooded environment where relationships were warped and members turned into shells of human beings. At least The Organization had let him pursue his true inclinations, what had made him who he was. It had been there he’d forged stronger-than-blood ties with his brothers, nothing like the pathological ones his family shared.
He’d at first decided to ignore the existence of the family that had wronged him so irretrievably. But after three of his brothers had found their roots and reunited with their own families, he’d begun to feel restless until he’d realized that he was being eaten alive with the need to even the score.
And to do that, he had to destroy the Accardis. Starting with his mother.
Agreeing to or at least accepting her family’s crime, she hadn’t attempted to search for him, had moved on instead and gotten married three times. She’d had legitimate offspring with each of her husbands as well as adopted children. The oldest was a man five years younger than him, the youngest a girl of twelve, making his crop of half siblings no less than six.
He’d planned to infiltrate the family anonymously, to exact up close and personal retribution on those who’d had a hand in his abandonment.
But the elitist snobs hadn’t opened up to him, not even with the bait of vital financial relief. Getting close to this family could be through the only way they allowed.
Through blood. Through a member.
After a thorough analysis of the extended family, he’d zeroed in on one member. Liliana Accardi.
Liliana was the daughter of Alberto Accardi, his mother’s third cousin. Her American mother had escaped Italy and the poisonous Accardi family when Liliana was only one and run back to the States. But after her mother’s death last year, the only child, family-less Liliana had started to reestablish relations with her father. The man who hadn’t bothered to see his daughter after he’d granted her mother a lucrative divorce was now eager to welcome her into his life. Surprisingly, the rest of the Accardis seemed as enthusiastic to invite her into the family. That had added to her potential use to Antonio.
Being a fellow doctor was another thing that had made her his best choice. And the fact that she’d graduated at the top of her class, but had ended up in a minor nonprofit lab battling impossible odds. Her quixotic tendencies had only made him consider her an even easier target. Everything else about her from looks to personal history had made her the most surefire as well as most tolerable vehicle for his needs.
He’d decided to approach her in a professional setting, bait her, snare her, then through her, enter the family, exact punishment from within, then walk away when they’d all paid, each to the exact measure he’d decide they deserved.
As for Liliana, she’d been wronged, too, if on an infinitely smaller scale. Though he’d despised her for seeking the family who’d driven her mother away and made Liliana grow up alone, to court their favor and inclusion, he’d intended to be lenient with her. If she provided him with a smooth ride to his life’s most anticipated surgery, that of excising the petrified heart of the family who’d thrown him away like so much garbage.
He’d had no doubt she’d fall at his feet like all subordinates, like all women. The plan was simple. He’d make a proposal she’d grab at. After all, it would make a much more convincing entry into her family if she was delirious at her phenomenal luck. Then when he broke it off, if she’d benefited him—and if she didn’t turn out to be another soulless Accardi or a greedy female—he’d compensate her handsomely.
Then he’d entered that meeting room, delivered his opening speech, and though he’d had the expected deference and delight from everyone else, he’d gotten none of the usual fluttering anticipation and adulation from her. Instead, she’d left him in no doubt of her reaction to his takeover, nor of her opinion of him.
From then on, everything had gone off the rails.
After his first surprise at her impassioned attack on his methods, history and person, he’d tried to overpower her, herd her back to his scripted pathway. Just as he’d thought he’d put her in the place where he needed her to stay, she’d retaliated with a more incontrovertible accusation.
Everything in him had surged to engage her full-on. But that would have been fodder for gossip and would have put him in a defensive position—something he’d never let himself be in. That had been when he’d realized he’d miscalculated.
The woman he’d thought would fall into his palm like a ripe plum had turned out to be a prickly pear.
A change of strategy had been in order.
But for the first time in memory, he couldn’t come up with a course of action but to dismiss her. So he’d let her final words hang there in the conference room without a rebuttal from him. That confrontation had ended with the score of Liliana Accardi one, him nothing.
He had decided to resume her conquest the next day, after he’d upgraded his plan. But he’d itched with impatience, all his senses trained on her, the only one of the staff to avoid him. He’d pretended he hadn’t noticed her as she’d kept her distance on her way out, when in truth he’d noticed nothing but her.
At one point, when she’d been closest to him, his resolve to ignore her had almost broken down. But he’d managed to let her walk out without doing something stupid.
Then he’d noticed the folder.
He’d realized adjusting his plan might be for nothing. This contrary woman might not be giving him another day. She’d forced him to pursue her there and then.
He’d still been certain that once he had her one-on-one, he’d bring her back in line. But the more he’d tried, the more she’d forced him to improvise, and the more he had, the further away from his desired results he’d gotten.
Not only hadn’t he managed to overwhelm her, she’d taken him by surprise again and again. He’d found himself reacting without the least premeditation, something he never did. Then he’d found himself guffawing like a fool. He hadn’t meant to laugh, but her unfiltered responses had been so unexpected and droll, she’d been the one to overpower his control and intent.
Not that his unprecedented spontaneity had earned him any leniency. Her disapproval and resistance had only increased until she’d swung the wrecking ball of her “I quit” right into him.