‘Think about it. What do you think would’ve happened if I had?’ I nodded to where a drunk Stefano swayed on his feet, surrounded by a few more Mancinelli lieutenants and a gaggle of the race bimbos who gravitated to power and fame like vultures to carrion.
The product of my grandfather’s third wife, my uncle was only five years older than me and a complete hothead who gave shoot-now-ask-questions-later a whole new meaning. ‘With them in that state, do you want to end the night with a body count and a trip to jail we’ll need to explain to Nonno? And a possible summons to the race authorities?’
He frowned. ‘Of course not, but?—’
‘Let it go, Ciso.’ I firmed my voice.
His mutiny lingered.
Knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance he’d ignore me, I gulped down another mouthful of champagne and set the glass down. ‘I’m heading back to the hotel. Don’t stay too long, yeah?’
I felt his brooding gaze all the way to the door. The two bodyguards assigned to me peeled themselves from the shadowsand fell into step beside me. I didn’t acknowledge them, nor did they me.
I learned the lesson the hard way not to trust or confide in the men my grandfather chose to guard me after a horrifying showdown the night I came face to face with a Salvatore for the first time. Men who were supposed to guard me had turned on me on a dime to save their skins, leaving me to my grandfather’s weeks-long wrath and a painful reminder of our family’s number one rule.
Bitterness churned through me at the memory of that night and of the control exerted on me since then, especially when myotherflaws rose to the surface like unwanted sludge.
I was a grown woman of thirty-one and yet I’d had sex only a handful of times in shadowy places with faceless men whose names I didn’t recall. My father believed I was a virgin, taking pride in assuring my grandfather when the subject of ‘organising a husband for me’ came up. It would have been hysterically funny if it wasn’t desperately sad and pathetic.
So I dragged my mind from it as the armoured SUV rolled to a stop and my bodyguards ushered me inside.
Our carefully vetted hotel was only a mile away. The well-oiled machine that was the Mancinelli mafiafamigghiahad booked the whole floor so there would be minimal cross-pollution with unapproved guests.
When we arrived, I barely took note of my surroundings or the usual gaping audience that I tended to attract with my burly bodyguards wherever I went.
Thankfully, this was Italy and in a luxury hotel people tended to think they were in the presence of some overblown celebrity instead of what I really was – the granddaughter of one of the most notorious members of Cosa Nostra to ever come out of Sicily in the last century.
I made it to my hotel suite with very little fanfare, ignoring all but the most important texts pinging on my phone from my sister, Sofiya.
A little rabbit told me tonight’s celebrations were… interesting?
I groaned under my breath.
For a family that ran an organisation that thrived in the underbelly of society, we sure were shit at keeping secrets.
Or maybe the more accurate assessment was my sister’s ability to pry secrets from stone. Her uncanny gift of telling truth from lies, bullshitter from traitor, had become an invaluable asset Bonafacio relied on more and more. Lately she’d been more absent than present at our home in Upstate New York. My enquiries as to why had earned me a sharp rebuke from my father and stone-faced silence from my own sister. Not gonna lie, it’d had hurt a little. Okay, a lot. It had raised my suspicion that either Sofiya really didn’t want to be close to me as I dearly wanted, or that Bonafacio was succeeding in driving a wedge between us for his own purposes.
Is it worth asking where you are?
I hedged in answering her question, partly through worry, partly because I needed time to parse through my own thoughts.
Nowhere interesting
The reply was laughably predictable.
Nothing interesting over here, too.
Yes, I was a little annoyed by her non-answer. Annoyed and worried.
*Eye roll emoji* Answer my question, Mads.
Or I’ll go digging myself.
While it’d taken me a long time to accept the inevitability of my surname and birthright, Sofiya had acclimatised to being the daughter and granddaughter of a gangster long before she’d hit puberty.
There’d been no need for me to protect her as I did my two other sisters because she’d toed the line from the moment it was shown to her with a cunning dexterity that left me speechless and a little terrified. Because Sofiya wasalwaysthree steps ahead. Despite her being my little sister, I had no idea what her end goal was. She was the one most comfortable in Bonafacio’s shadow and it’d made me wonder if it was the reason for the distance between us.
She doted on Narciso though and I was guessing that was where she’d gotten the info tonight.
