clock lay faceup, the glass shattered and the time set to nine o’ clock. “It means my time is up.”
“Who has access to your office?”
After the first wave of shock and fear swept through her, another wave followed, this one hot and filled with fury. Her office was her sanctuary, her private space, and someone had violated it.
“Anthony!” She grabbed the clock from the box and shoved past Reese, ignoring his calls for her to stop. She marched down the hall to the office her brother had claimed as his and without an invitation she burst in.
He started when the door slammed against the wall, then his eyes narrowed. “You never learned manners, Frankie.”
She threw the clock at him, narrowly missing his face. He caught it. “If you’re man enough to take me out, little brother, be man enough to tell me to my face.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She pointed to the clock in his hand. “That was on my desk this morning.”
Anthony looked at the clock in his hand. Realization dawned. He was pretty good, Frankie thought. He almost looked as surprised as she’d been.
Anthony set the shattered clock down on his desk. “I didn’t put that in your office.”
“Then who did you pay to do it?”
He sat back in his chair, relaxed, and didn’t seem to give a shit she’d been told her time was up.
“I don’t work that way, sister, and you know it.”
“Why do you want
Skin?”
“Because Father didn’t want you to turn it into the smut rag you want to make it.”
Frankie laughed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you! What do you call your peep shows in the Tenderloin. Sunday school?”
“That’s different.”
“Different because it’s entertainment for men?”
He nodded.
“You’re a chauvinist.”
Anthony shrugged. “Sticks and stones, Frankie.” He smiled, the gesture smarmy. “Have you spoken with our uncle this morning?”
“No. What does Unk have to do with this?”
“Then you haven’t heard the news.”
Blood drained to her feet. His lack of concern for her well-being and his cocky demeanor didn’t bode well for her. “What news?”
“My mother found a codicil to Father’s old will.”
“You’re lying.”
Anthony smoothed his two-hundred-dollar silk tie. “Carmine knows Father wanted you out. No way was he going to be embarrassed by his daughter and the ‘new look’ you wanted for
Skin.
You should have remained the obedient daughter and taken the crumbs he threw at you.”
Anthony’s words stung.
“Father may have given me my first break here, but I worked my way up from interning to creative director on my own.”
Anthony’s eyes sparkled with mockery. “If you say so.”
She said so because it
was
so. She’d worked her ass off. Spending sixteen-hour days for years working on one assignment after another. No one put more blood, sweat, or tears into the magazine than she did.
“Give our ‘Unk’ a call. He’ll fill you in.” Anthony picked up the phone on his desk, and when she refused to take it, he punched in Unk’s number.
Fear ran icy fingers along her spine. What the hell happened since last night? And why did she have to find this out from her brother?
When Carmine answered, Anthony put him on speaker and hung up the handset. Her fingers twitched to slap off his smug smile.
“Unk? Is it true? Is there a codicil to Father’s old will?”
“Francesca, I was going to call you —”
“Is it true?!”
“I have the codicil here in my hands. Connie brought it to me last night.”
Why didn’t that surprise her? What was Connie up to now? Constance Angelina Donatello was as transparent as a window. Everyone knew she’d maneuvered Sonny into her bed and gotten pregnant deliberately. She made no secret of her conquest. Now she suddenly comes up with a codicil? How convenient. “Where is the original?”
“Somewhere I’m sure Santini felt was secure. But never fear. I will find it.”
Hope swelled. “Unk, is the
“Who has access to your office?”
After the first wave of shock and fear swept through her, another wave followed, this one hot and filled with fury. Her office was her sanctuary, her private space, and someone had violated it.
“Anthony!” She grabbed the clock from the box and shoved past Reese, ignoring his calls for her to stop. She marched down the hall to the office her brother had claimed as his and without an invitation she burst in.
He started when the door slammed against the wall, then his eyes narrowed. “You never learned manners, Frankie.”
She threw the clock at him, narrowly missing his face. He caught it. “If you’re man enough to take me out, little brother, be man enough to tell me to my face.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She pointed to the clock in his hand. “That was on my desk this morning.”
Anthony looked at the clock in his hand. Realization dawned. He was pretty good, Frankie thought. He almost looked as surprised as she’d been.
Anthony set the shattered clock down on his desk. “I didn’t put that in your office.”
“Then who did you pay to do it?”
He sat back in his chair, relaxed, and didn’t seem to give a shit she’d been told her time was up.
“I don’t work that way, sister, and you know it.”
“Why do you want
Skin?”
“Because Father didn’t want you to turn it into the smut rag you want to make it.”
Frankie laughed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you! What do you call your peep shows in the Tenderloin. Sunday school?”
“That’s different.”
“Different because it’s entertainment for men?”
He nodded.
“You’re a chauvinist.”
Anthony shrugged. “Sticks and stones, Frankie.” He smiled, the gesture smarmy. “Have you spoken with our uncle this morning?”
“No. What does Unk have to do with this?”
“Then you haven’t heard the news.”
Blood drained to her feet. His lack of concern for her well-being and his cocky demeanor didn’t bode well for her. “What news?”
“My mother found a codicil to Father’s old will.”
“You’re lying.”
Anthony smoothed his two-hundred-dollar silk tie. “Carmine knows Father wanted you out. No way was he going to be embarrassed by his daughter and the ‘new look’ you wanted for
Skin.
You should have remained the obedient daughter and taken the crumbs he threw at you.”
Anthony’s words stung.
“Father may have given me my first break here, but I worked my way up from interning to creative director on my own.”
Anthony’s eyes sparkled with mockery. “If you say so.”
She said so because it
was
so. She’d worked her ass off. Spending sixteen-hour days for years working on one assignment after another. No one put more blood, sweat, or tears into the magazine than she did.
“Give our ‘Unk’ a call. He’ll fill you in.” Anthony picked up the phone on his desk, and when she refused to take it, he punched in Unk’s number.
Fear ran icy fingers along her spine. What the hell happened since last night? And why did she have to find this out from her brother?
When Carmine answered, Anthony put him on speaker and hung up the handset. Her fingers twitched to slap off his smug smile.
“Unk? Is it true? Is there a codicil to Father’s old will?”
“Francesca, I was going to call you —”
“Is it true?!”
“I have the codicil here in my hands. Connie brought it to me last night.”
Why didn’t that surprise her? What was Connie up to now? Constance Angelina Donatello was as transparent as a window. Everyone knew she’d maneuvered Sonny into her bed and gotten pregnant deliberately. She made no secret of her conquest. Now she suddenly comes up with a codicil? How convenient. “Where is the original?”
“Somewhere I’m sure Santini felt was secure. But never fear. I will find it.”
Hope swelled. “Unk, is the
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