Yes, pancakes are common for breakfast. But banana pancakes? Paired with strawberry glaze?
I tear off a bite, my queasy stomach suddenly ravenous.
The fluffy texture hits my tongue and my mouth salivates. It’s a rush of sweet sugars and cloudy goodness that only makes me want more.
I eat. I drink my coffee. I scan the proposal… and I spiral.
Why did Raffael take the time to come up with this partnership?
Why does he care if I eat? OrwhatI eat?
Then there’s the phone call and the unknown woman who’s under his protection. The woman that’s potentially me.
The next bite turns gluggy. I wash it down with water, the nausea creeping back in.
I’m grasping at straws, trying to find the man I once believed he was in the monster he now is.
It’s ridiculous.
Delusional.
I need to get a grip.
I push back from the table, thank the stewardess stationed just inside the door, and head for the study.
Raffael is seated on the guest side of the desk. Laptop open. Facing the primary chair.
“Everything’s ready,” he says, legs crossed, arms relaxed, no shits given. “Just press launch and the live feed will start recording.”
I round the desk to find the screen’s feed preview on the empty chair I’m expected to sit in. “The laptop has internet?”
He gives me a droll look and raises his cell. “I can cut it with one tap.”
Of course he can.
I take the seat and stare at my face on screen, slightly less wrecked than last night, but still far from impeccably presented.
“So once I do this… I go home? No more threats? No more blood-debt games?”
“You broke the agreement and publicly jeopardized the Cavallo Group’s reputation.” He leans back in his chair, all effortless arrogance. “But yes. Cooperate and you walk away like this never happened. Just remember that it did. And know I won’t be as lenient in future.”
Lenient?
I choke on a laugh, along with all the things I still don’t understand.
“Can I speak to my father first?”
Raffael’s lips thin. “You mean the man who left you here without warning? Who didn’t have the stones to tell you what he signed you into?” His gaze hardens. “No, Isla. He’s caused enough problems. You can handle this on your own.”
A low hum of nervousness stirs beneath my ribs.
I sit there, holding Raffael’s stare longer than I should.
The quicker I get this over with, the quicker I can move on. Right?
This isn’t a big deal. It’s just my dignity, legacy, and the weight of two family empires.
I skate my fingers over the trackpad and click to launch the live recording.