Domenica parked in her usual spot at her house, and for once—even though she’d done it since high school—it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like coming home.

Convincing Gian to let her go alone to see her father hadn’t been the easiest thing in the world to do. But he seemed to really understand her need for independence. Her need for certain freedoms. And ultimately, her need to tell her father to stuff it alone.

With that, and more than a little help from Dr. Gordon, reassuring him that she wasn’t likely to faint again so long as she stuck to his orders about rest and food, Gian had agreed.

Tension touched every part of her as she got out of her car and headed for the back door. She’d half-expected not to be allowed to the front gate after her father’s words only an hour before. Domenica approached the door but no one stopped her. She opened the door and walked into the huge foyer. None of her father’s men waited there to stop her.

Feeling like a stranger in the house she’d grown up in made the short walk to her father’s office uncomfortable, to say the least. But she forced herself to take step after step. Talking to her father alone was a necessity. If he had the same attitude he’d had at the hospital… Well, she’d deal with that if she had to. At least then she would know for sure where she stood.

One of her father’s men stood at his office door. Tony.

“Working for him the whole time, huh?” she asked, giving him a wry grin. If he heard the bitterness in her tone, so be it.

Tony shrugged, lifting a single shoulder. “I would have done my best to help you, even without the Don’s okay.”

Sure you would have. But she didn’t say the sarcastic words aloud. Tony wasn’t a bad guy, but his loyalty ultimately lay with her father. Something she should have remembered.

“Is he in?” She knew he was. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been a guard at his door.

By way of answer, Tony rapped quickly on the door behind him. There was an answering noise inside, and Tony opened the door then gestured for her to enter.

Straightening her shoulders, she held her head high and marched into her father’s office. He sat behind the large desk he’d owned since before she’d been born. When Tony lingered behind her, she said, “I’d like to speak with you alone.”

Hard gaze locked on hers, her father gave Tony a quick nod. The big man left, shutting the door behind him.

“What is it?” her father asked, shuffling through paperwork on his desk. As if he had better things to do than speak with his only daughter.

“You betrayed me,” she said, proud of the strength in her voice.

Dark eyes met hers. He didn’t speak, but at least he’d stopped busying himself with the paperwork on his desk.

“I am your daughter. Whether by blood or other means, you raised me as your own.”

Something akin to frustration flashed across his features. “You’re still my daughter. But you’re also a threat.”

“I’m only a threat if you make me a threat!” She wanted to dive across the desk and shake some sense into the stubborn man. “I’m having your grandchild. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

The sound of gunfire erupted, close. In the house. And whatever reply her father had been about to make, was cut off. And he shot her an angry, questioning glare.

“It’s not my people,” she said.

He harrumphed but walked past her, pulling a gun from behind his jacket. She reached for the small caliber pistol she kept in her boot, and then tugged her cell phone free of her purse as her father headed out into the hall.

She hit Gian’s name on the screen and cursed under her breath. After a couple of rings, he finally answered.

“Something’s going down here,” she said without preamble. “Gunshots.”

“Where are you?” he growled.

“In my father’s office. But I’m heading out. I need to see what’s going on.”

“Stay where you are,” he ordered. “I’ve got two men just outside his gate, and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Of course he had men close by. Overprotective male. Not normally her favorite trait in a man, but she could kiss him for it now.

“I love you, but I’m not—” The phone flew from her hand, and she gasped, jumping back.

“Hello, puttana.”

“Biagio,” she bit his name out like a curse.

Biagio grinned.