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“I don’t disagree,” Elio says. “But with our connection to his father, we can force him to be on his best behavior. We can make a positive change.”
“People like him don’t change.” I wave a hand when I realize I’m about to check my phone again, all on autopilot.
Elio laughs.
“What’s funny?” I snap.
“You are,” he says. “You’re saying people don’t change, but look at you. You’ve changed. Ruby’s changed you already, just like Scarlet changed me. Do you think it’s fate? Ruby, Scarlet… They both mean red.”
“Damn, brother,” I say, laughing darkly. “Fate? I think I preferred you when you were miserable.”
“Text her,” Elio says, ignoring me. “You’ll feel better, trust me.”
I take out my phone again. Suddenly, I feel like a kid, looking up to Elio for all the answers, knowing my strong, slightly intimidating big brother could make anything right. “What should I say?”
“How bad was the fight?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve got a frame of reference.” When Elio tilts his head at me, I snap, “It’s not like partying gave me good relationship skills.”
“Relationship?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Speak from the heart,” Elio says.
I mime being sick. It feels good to banter with Elio, to let go of some of the darkness. “Seriously, brother, who are you?”
“I mean it,” he goes on seriously. “I could’ve avoided a lot of hassle if I was straightforward with Scarlet from the start, but…” Again, he gets that borderline dreamy look. “I knew she was my woman the moment I saw her. I knew we were going to have kids. I knew we’d be together forever. Do you know all that?”
Turning away, I focus on my phone. I don’t know how to answer his question. “I’ve been running the day-to-day,” I tell him, “and I’m only now learning about this deal with the congressman.”
“That’s one hell of a way to change the subject,” Elio says.
“I’m just saying—” I cut myself off. What am I saying? Or am I just trying to pick a fight?
Going to mine and Ruby’s text thread, I think about my brother’s words. What’s the honest truth?
I don’t want you to be afraid of me.
I send it without letting myself dwell too much on the consequences. Then, one of our men, Matteo, knocks on the door. “The congressman is back.”
Congressman Maverick Kingston is a large man with a pocket watch chain dangling from his breast pocket. His dark hair looks dyed, shiny, and slicked to the side. His son is a tall, broad, jock-looking type with a preppy haircut and puppy dog eyes that seemed forced to me. They’re giving me the vibes of an indulgent dad with his rich, spoiled son. Our dad was never like that. Despite our wealth, he gave us discipline.
From my pocket, my phone buzzes. I itch to check it but can’t until this is done.
“Is this true?” Maverick says when I finish explaining. “Don’t lie to me, boy.”
Nate glances up at me. The little coward bites his lip. He’s putting on a show for his father. “I didn’t want to do it,” he says.
“Did somebody force you?” I growl.
Elio glances at me with a silent message. Chill, brother.
“What do you mean,” I go on, “you didn’t want to? How do you do a thing like that by accident?”
“Now, hold on,” Maverick says. “Let him explain.”
I push off the wall, meaning to let this bastard know just what I think of him telling me to hold on. Then Elio quickly says, “This is a serious thing, Maverick. You might have some ideas about our life, our world, and our Family, but we don’t tolerate violence or degradation against women.”
“Very progressive,” Maverick mutters with disdain.
I almost roar at him. Elio just sits there and lets this prick disrespect him.
“Explain,” I say, leaning over the desk.
Nate picks at the desk with his fingernail, looking like a kid being reprimanded by a teacher for some minor, meaningless issue. “It was part of our frat. We’ve got these challenges, and…”
“So your frat challenged you to blackmail Ruby to do your college work for you?” I snarl. “That seems pretty damn specific to me.”
“Elio,” Maverick snaps.
“Stop talking to him like that.” I stare at the weak congressman right in the eye. The only way he’s getting away with this is because of his position. Without it, he’d have no way to challenge my brother about anything.
Maverick smirks, and worse, he looks down at me like I’m a dog who’s yapping too loudly. Maybe he’s heard some stories about me, the waster mafia prince letting my big brother take care of the business. Perhaps he’s not aware that things have changed.
Elio looks at me again. His presence is the only thing stopping me from flying into a murderous rage, the only thing stopping me from tearing them both to pieces.
