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“Don’t be like that, Remi. We aren’t over,” he claims as my drink is slid in front of me. The bartender wisely doesn’t ask for payment, instead, he backs away seeing the malice in my gaze.
I don’t respond to Vander. I’m doing everything I can to hold my rage in, knowing I can’t do what I really want with this many witnesses around. The whore got a free pass this time, but if I ever see her again, she’s dead.
Chapter 10
Raven
The drink is gone before I know it, and as I find myself glaring at the bottom of the glass, I wonder if I’ll ever learn to grab more than one. Drinking used to be a way to handle the numbing boredom of having to put on my mask and perform for those around me. The need to keep my darkness hidden was overwhelming.
But this time I’m drinking to numb myself from the reminder of being surrounded by liars. My men are crowding in on me, wanting to make sure all sides are covered, but also hoping I’ll magically forgive them. This is something that’ll take some time… if it’s even possible at all.
Turning to face the bar area, I lean over the counter to see if there are any bottles within easy reach. The bartender has been avoiding our side of his area, probably due to the menacing men surrounding me, or possibly because I’m putting off major pissed-off vibes. In either case, I still need another drink.
Grayson leans into me, he grips my chin and turns my head so he can kiss my temple. His lips brush the curve of my ear sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ll get you a refill.” This fucking man, he’s quickly become my rock.
His hands land on the counter in preparation to vault himself to the other side, but Vander presses his hand on Grayson’s shoulder, keeping him in place. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Vander hisses.
My gaze whips over to him and I stare him down, something I’ve avoided doing since I got my drink. Grayson shakes his hold off and looks seconds away from throwing a punch. “Taking care of my girl,” Grayson spits out, his tone harsh and cutting. He really is on my side, and seeing the proof makes something settle inside me.
“For fuck’s sake, we’re in the middle of a Mafia run establishment. You can’t hop the bar like you own things. None of these men know who our girl is, and they sure as fuck don’t care who you are,” Vander hisses, before grinding his teeth together. “You’d be dragged out of here and killed within minutes. It’s like you don’t even think.”
Vander strides around the bar and fixes me another drink. At the same time he hands it to me, one of the men who picked us up comes out of the door he disappeared into. His gaze lands on me right away, and doesn’t waver to any of the men stiffening around me. “He’ll see you now,” the man clips out as if he expects me to obey. I lean against the bar top and sip my rum and coke, noticing it’s more rum than anything else, and it’s in a larger glass than before. Reluctantly, I admit that Vander at least knows me well enough to give me what I need.
He lets out a sigh, leaning toward me with the bar between us. “Reginetta, now isn’t the time to dig your feet in. Things won’t go well for us if you’re acting like a brat. I know you have it in you to be diplomatic. I thought you were going to treat this like a business meeting,” he points out.
Fucking hell. I hate when he’s right while I’m angry with him.
I let out a growl and stomp a few feet toward the door, before shaking off my attitude. Nothing irks me more than someone trying to command me to do things—outside of my men in the bedroom. If I had ever thought about meeting my biological father, this wouldn’t be how I’d thought it would go.
My men trail after me, but as we reach the doorway, the man I’m following turns around and holds up his arm. “Only you and Vander are allowed in,” he announces. The man is void of personality, and I side-eye Vander wondering if he would have ended up more like this man if he wasn’t with me for the past five years. Actually, on second thought, he’s been robotic most of the time I’ve known him too.
Jasper curses behind me, but Vander is the one who speaks up. “Don’t worry, this shouldn’t take very long. We’ll be out before you know it.” His hand lands on my lower back, urging me to continue on, but he drops it just as quickly, having to remind himself that he can’t be so forward.
With my head held high, I strut into an office. There’s a large desk with shelving behind it, a personal bar, several leather couches, a stripper pole in one corner. An entire wall of video cameras, and with a quick glance, I can tell they aren’t all showing video feed from the club. And then there’s the wall of windows allowing a view of the entire establishment.
The room of course has soundproofing, so it’s silent when the door swings shut behind us. I glance behind me to find the goons have left. Vander and I are alone with two new men. They are both dressed in sharp suits, hair slicked back, almost a copy of each other, except one is clearly my father, and the other is slightly younger than me.
So I have a brother. Something else Vander neglected to tell me. He’s standing next to me, posture stiff with his hands hanging at his sides, which I notice from the corner of my eye. And similar to when he was my guard, he stands silently, blending into the background until he’s called on.
The older man who shares my blue eyes and black hair steps around his desk and strides toward me. When he’s only a few feet away, he pauses and studies me from head to toe. “Want me to spin around for you and open my mouth so you can check my teeth?” I quip, unable to hold myself back. I can feel Vander cursing me in his head, and it only serves to make me smirk.
After a beat of silence, the man barks out a laugh and quickly reaches out to tug me into his arms before I process what’s happening. If he hadn’t surprised me with the move, I would have stepped back to prevent him from even touching me. He doesn’t deserve it. As it is, I keep my hands glued to my sides, refusing to return the hug.
My brother notices and the corner of his mouth quirks up as he tries to hide his smile. He doesn’t seem so bad. I can’t blame a younger brother for not coming after me all those years ago. What was he supposed to do, throw his bottle or fling a spoonful of mashed peas? He sees me watching him and offers a sympathetic shrug.
After I’ve been fully suffocated, I’m finally released. He holds me at arm’s length, a huge smile on his face, which seems completely out of place. You can tell he doesn’t smile often, if at all. “Luce dei miei occhi!” he bellows, seeming pleased, although I have no idea what he’s said. “I’ve heard many things about you over the years, but the most recent reports… I couldn’t be prouder. I’m not sure I could have done a better job of raising you with your thirst for killing.”
I’m going to kill Vander. Clearly, he couldn’t be my stalker if he so blatantly disregards the rules of not telling anyone. Although, he seems to act like he’s above any rules. I grit my teeth, holding myself back from chewing him out with an audience. They don’t need to know how infuriated I am. All they get to see is the blank expression on my face. I even stop blinking as often, an easy way to make anyone feel uncomfortable without realizing why.
“Now that you’re home, I’ll have you team up with your fratello, he can show you around, and we’ll give you a taste for your place in the famiglia.” He kisses both of my cheeks. “Welcome home, Figlia.”
He moves to step away, but I stop him in his tracks. “This isn’t my home, and you aren’t my family,” I announce in a challenge.
The smile drops from his face, and an expression that seems much more natural to him replaces it. His eyes narrow and the scowl dares me to defy him. I’m sure it works like a charm on his made men or whatever terminology they use around here. But I’m not like everyone else. I don’t give a flying fuck about him or his desires.
Vander is silent next to me, but I know he isn’t happy with how I’m handling things. However, this fucker is being beyond presumptuous. I shouldn’t expect a mafia Don to ask, but I have more respect for myself than to lay down and take this kind of treatment. I’m sure it’s killing Vander to stay quiet and not talk some sense into me.
“Excuse me,” the disrespectful fuck hisses through clenched teeth.
