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“Something’s coming,le mie figlie. And I’m not sure I like it.”
He seems a little uneasy, which is weird. I look at my sister who shakes her head slightly. I’m sure she would tell me if there was something to be worried about.
My dad briefs us on other aspects on the business and then we’re heading to the dining room to have dinner. It’s quiet, clinical. After dinner he returns to his office while I follow Kat to her room. I don’t live here anymore. I moved out about a year ago, in need of my own space. My father didn’t want me to, but I eventually wore him down. He knows I can take care of myself. And despite having my own house, I still spend a lot of my time here.
Kat heads straight for her laptop as soon as we’re through the doors of her room. She sits cross legged on her bed while I take a seat on the purple bean bag on the floor.
“Alright, tell me about Milan. We both know it didn’t take you five days to find a guy and kill him. What else were you up to?”
I recount my trip without leaving anything out. Not the hook up with a random lifeguard on the beach and not three days I spent tanning and enjoying a break at said beach. I took care of the man I was sent to kill the first day I got to Milan. The four other days became a self-awarded vacation.
“You were supposed to go there and work,” Kat says shaking her head.
“I did. But I also had fun. You take everything too seriously,sorella.”
She doesn’t even reply, her eyes fixated on her laptop. One thing about mafia families, it’s always a good idea to have at least one member of the family who’s good with tech, hacking into security cameras and finding private information always comes in handy with the business we run. Katerina’s that person for my family. And she’s the best at it.
“Not all of us are comfortable coasting through life like you do.”
“You should try it sometime. I’m a little upset I didn’t sleep with the lifeguard though. We were interrupted before it could get that far and I didn’t see him again after that,” I tell her with a small pout. Then I’m lifting my head to the ceiling of the room. “When’s the last time you had casual sex, Kat?”
She pauses to think about it. “Last year, with Enzo Russo.”
I frown, looking at her. “Wasn’t that because you wanted information on him? How’s that casual?”
“It’s business casual,” Kat says winking at me.
I throw a pillow at her and she laughs. We start talking about other things, mundane stuff. Like fashion shows and clothes. Normal things girls in their twenties talk about. I don’t know where my sister got the idea.
Since we were younger Katerina’s made a conscious effort to ensure we don’t lose ourself. Growing up she always made sure a shooting lesson was closely followed by a movie night or after a sparring session she’d take me skating. She tried to make sure we had a balance. It’s very easy to become a shadow of yourself in the business we’re in. Our dad raised us to be weapons but at the end of the day we’re still human. We’re woman with feelings and wants and needs. He tends to forget that. But Katerina never has. She did right by us. She did exactly what our mother would have done. If she was still alive.
“Can I sleep in here tonight?” I ask my sister, yawning softly.
It’s been a long day and I’m starting to feel jet lagged.
“Of course, Soph.”
I get changed into comfortable clothes and climb into her four-poster bed. I stare at her for the longest moment as she works.
“Kat,” I ask quietly. “What are you and Papa worried about?”
She doesn’t look up at me as she sighs softly. “That the anonymity is coming to an end. We’re not sure if it’ll be a good thing or a bad thing.”
My family’s built its legacy on being invincible. Working from behind the scenes. We run our businesses under fake names. No one knows anything about the Mincetti’s. My dad did it to protect us. But maybe it’s not really protection. Sometimes I feel like it reads as cowardice.
“It would be a good thing,” I say, yawning again.
“They would come for us, Soph.”
“We can take them,” I say cockily.
“Overconfidence is only a step away from doom,” my sister murmurs. “Mom used to say that.”
My sister was 8 years old when our mother died. I was five. She has a lot more memories of her than I do. I don’t think I have any memories of her that weren’t passed down from Katerina. Every mention of my mother makes my heart ache.
“If doom comes, then let it come swiftly,” I state.
I feel rather than see her roll her eyes.
