Dante knew this tactic. He witnessed his father do it one too many times.

It was just too damn bad his father didn't realize his mistake.

"Beautiful numbers," Dante praised quietly.

"I certainly think so," Antony replied. "Marcello Industries has worked hard to keep them at a constantly profiting level. Care to show off yours?"

"I don't have to."

Antony's gaze snapped to Dante's. "Excuse me?"

The investors no longer mattered to Dante. They were either going to give his company the contract or not. That was the name of the game. Sometimes it was all about clout and reputation, and sometimes it was about the ass you kissed and the names you knew.

Dante wasn't kissing ass to get the contract. But his goddamn reputation was up for everyone to see, now. Antony's error put it right on display.

"I don't have to pull out my numbers or show my more than proven history for this board," Dante said, gesturing at the same graphs his father already had. "You did it for me."

Dante stepped out from the table, moving to the wall. His index finger pointed at the first show of substantial growth in developments on the Marcello Industries chart.

"Here, that was my second year into the company working on real estate developments exclusively. And as we go up in years," Dante said, his finger following the high red line, "... it only continued to grow. In fact, it doubled year after year. There wasn't once in five years where your profit line fell. Not one contract was lost under me while working for the company."

"You also had-"

Dante turned on his heel. "Oh, before you start talking about the company who backed me, let me get that right out of the way for you. Marcello Industries had an entire team behind me for this one portion of the company. That team answered to me; they trusted me. I worked alongside them in small offices, treated the team with the respect they deserved, and never took sole credit for the achievements of the team. So much so, that a few of them have even followed me to Empire Developments knowing the company is still building in its first year, isn't that correct?"

Antony's jaw ticked. "To a certain degree."

"There are no degrees, Mr. Marcello," Dante said, giving his father a look. "You taught me that. It either is, or it isn't. We don't play around with the maybes."

"It is, then."

"Good, thank you for giving me that." Dante went back to the projection, eyeing the last year that was still undetermined on Marcello Industries. "This is a little forward, no?"

"I don't understand what you mean," Antony replied.

"This last year, it's unfinished."

"Of course, it is. It's not completed yet. It's merely a projection based on contracts."

Dante nodded. "Sure, but you're including all, aren't you?"

"I don't appreciate word games," Antony muttered.

"Let me make it clearer for you. Your development accounting team has included all contracts beginning work this year, yet they forgot-intentionally or not-to remove the highest paying contract intended to start next month."

"What-"

"The Curod contract," Dante interrupted, glancing over his shoulder with a cocked brow. "It's a ninety-million dollar contract for Washington. One I put over six months of time into developing for the proposal and took less than thirty minutes to win in the board. Your team included this contract even though Washington is still considering backing out, right?"

"Mr. Marcello?" Kaleb asked. "Is that true?"

"The contract is still in Marcello Industries' hands," Antony said, unaffected.

"But, only because Washington followed me to Empire Developments, offered the contract as they wanted my name to stay on the bottom line, but they had to return to your company. Why was that? Because I didn't have the funding, time to gather what they needed, and I was too honorable to cause them loss in money even though they were willing to take the cut. When you paid me out, you broke contract with them by getting rid of the one person they wanted on that team. Isn't that right?"

Antony's arms crossed over his chest. "It is, but we still have the contract."

"You keep saying that. I don't think it makes a difference."

"To you, it wouldn't."

"How much profit are you going to have to give up to keep them?" Dante asked, honestly curious.

Antony refused to answer.

Dante didn't mind. "And while Marcello Industries is taking money from a third-party as well as their own company's bank for this proposal, Empire Developments is taking the cash directly from a private account. I might have a little work to do in order to get my company up to speed, but rest assured, everything I have is in this proposal. Literally."

Antony's irritation was starting to show as he drummed his fingers rapidly to the table. Dante didn't relent.

"If Marcello Industries fails, it will be nothing to their bottom line. They have nothing to lose in this. Therefore, their personal investment into the contract can only be determined by the weight of their losses on a possible failure. Empire Developments has everything to lose if the contract fails on our end, so consequently we wouldn't allow that to happen. At all."

"Mr. Marcello?"

Both Antony and Dante broke their staring contest to give the middle investor-Leigh Denor-their attention, but the man was only regarding Antony.

"Do you have a rebuttal for that?" Leigh asked.

Antony couldn't refute it. He didn't have to say a word for Dante to be aware.

"I think we have all we need to begin considerations on the proposal," Trina Sleen, the lone female investor, said. "No need to keep cutting at throats here, even if the show is fantastic to watch. But, if I may say so, well done, Empire Developments."

Dante stared his father down. "I learned from the best."

"Cristo, something smells fucking amazing," Dante said as he walked into the condo.

Dante was maybe starting to get used to the fact he had no control in his kitchen anymore. He quickly crossed the room and tried to grab one of the fresh scones on the countertop.

Without even looking up from the bread she was kneading, Catrina reached out, grabbed a wooden spoon, and cracked the back of his hand with it. Hard.

Motherfucker that hurt. Dante hissed, hiding his hand from another potential smack. "Cazzo! I paid for this kitchen, Cat. It's mine."

"Maybe, but I'm the only one between us who actually uses it. By default, it now becomes mine. Stay out of my kitchen, Dante."

"You're awful."

"I can be," Catrina agreed. "Once the bread is done, you can eat."

"But, I'm hungry now."

"You should have thought of that when you refused breakfast this morning. I bet you were far too busy to eat lunch, like I said you would be."

Dante sighed, knowing damn well he wasn't going to win the battle. Catrina was ridiculously particular. "Did you get in contact with your men in LA?"

"Yes, Gae would like to see me in a week. Things are getting sticky."

A week? "Can't someone else-"

Catrina stopped kneading the bread, cutting Dante with a look. "That's not how it goes. My supply and demand doesn't work the same way yours does, Dante. My clients are not your average user on the streets. They don't want whoever delivering their products, they want the queen. And so, they have to pay accordingly for her. Private charted flights. Exclusive parties. Politics. Major athletes. Hollywood names. Those are my game. They pay a certain price for a certain kind of dealer. So, if Gae wants me out there to smooth the waves for a couple of clients and check out the supply chain while I'm at it, I will do that."

"All right," Dante said quietly. "I get it."

That didn't mean he had to fucking like it, though.

Catrina went back to kneading the bread. "You shouldn't worry."

"I'm not worrying."

"Liar, you are and you shouldn't. I've been doing this for over a decade."

"But you're also my wife, Cat. You're a bigger target, now. Especially for officials or even someone who wants to piss me off. Which means the game you played before isn't going to work anymore. I'm considering sending along an enforcer or two with you."

Catrina froze. "Absolutely not."

"Cat-"

"No, Dante. I don't need enforcers, never mind the fact they would be all in my business and my client's. The answer is no. I can handle myself just fine."

"I'm aware of what you can do."

Or mostly, anyway. Catrina and her fucking knives.

"I'm serious, do not send men to trail me. It could ruin the client's trust in my ability to stay invisible in their lives, and neither Gae nor Pao liked having your men around while they were here. If you do send men without my permission, I promise you will regret it."

Dante blinked, stunned. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, Dante."

Dante felt his walls build up, defenses rising. "And just what in the hell would you do, dolce ragazza?"

Catrina's hazel eyes flashed with warning. "Only one of us would return to New York."

"You can't kill my men."

"There's a difference between can't and shouldn't. I don't care much for rules, and my ability to kill has worked just fine for years. Neither of us make empty promises, so let's not start testing each other's lines."

She was serious. Dante didn't understand this woman's mindset to save his life. His frustration level climbed up a notch or two.

"By the way, how did it go today?" Catrina asked, placing a dish towel over the bread bowl while the dough set.

"We're over it, just like that?"

"Arguing is pointless."

"With you arguing is pointless."

"Same difference," Catrina said, smiling.

Dante hated how Catrina's combative nature and stubbornness was entirely too appealing to him.

"Tell me how it went with the investors, Dante. I've been dying here all day waiting to know. I was going to call and ask, but I didn't think you would want me to."

Really?

His walls crashed back down. Dante had no idea how Catrina managed to do that. One minute he could be ready to lock her in a room until she would see things from his perspective, and in the next, her sweeter side came into view and bled its way into his system.

Dante didn't want a passionate affair with this crazy woman ... or he hadn't before. They were supposed to be partners. An advantage each could use. Somehow, he just knew they were going to fail at the first. Especially considering the way Catrina was grinning at him, eager to know how his meeting went, told Dante she cared. Most importantly, about him. How difficult would it be to get her to admit it?

"You could have called," Dante said, leaning on the counter. "I wouldn't have minded."

It was another olive branch from his end. He was still waiting on one from her.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time. So tell me."

"It went okay. I won't know for sure about the contract for a little while, but it went well."

"Good. See, I told you your worries were useless."

Dante grinned. "Maybe."

"Oh, I forgot to mention it, but your moth-"

A ring of a cellphone in Dante's jacket pocket interrupted Catrina. Dante held a finger up to ask her for a minute as he answered the call without checking the caller ID first. "Dante Marcello speaking."

"Congratulations, son."

Dante stilled at his father's voice, turning his back to Catrina. "What did I do to deserve the praise?"

Besides pissing you off today, Dante thought.

"I just got the call five minutes ago on my way to meet Lucian for dinner letting me know they wouldn't be needing my plans."

"Weren't you the one who told me you don't appreciate word games today, Dad?"

Antony laughed deeply. "That I did. I asked them to let me deliver the news and they agreed."

"Get on with it, Dad. I'm kind of busy here."