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How could I do that?
How could I touch myself while thinking of a man who left me alone in the city?
Then he was covered in blood when he got back.
Where did he go?
What did he do?
What happened last night?
I’m so confused.
But I’m also mortified with myself.
This is so bad.
My phone starts to ring, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I groan when I see it’s my father.
Don’t answer. Send him to voicemail.
But I know that’s a luxury I don’t have.
“Hi, Father,” I answer.
“Viviana.” The way he says my name makes my eyes water. There is no warmth or comfort. He hates me. If I ever wondered if that was true before, now I most certainly know.
I can’t even comprehend why he ever desired to have me.
But then the obvious thing pops into my head. His political aspirations. He needed to look like a family man.
“How is it going with our goal?”
“Umm.”
“Viviana, do not make me keep my promise to you. Remember what I showed you. Remember all you can lose if you don’t play by my rules.”
His words hit their intended mark. They stab me in the heart, making me bleed right into the comforter.
“I will do what you need, Father, but please stop.”
“Only after.”
“I need your reassurance,” I answer with all the strength I can muster.
“And you won’t get it.” Then the line goes quiet, and I know he hung up.
Tears fill my eyes, making it hard for me to see. I let myself cry. I fall into the comforter and cry until I can’t breathe.
I need to figure something out.
I’m not sure how.
But I do.
Maybe I can trust Matteo to help me?
Failing isn’t an option.
I can’t let Julia down.
No matter what happened, how mad she is, she’s family.
I will protect her. I won’t let anything bad happen.
Even if it means losing myself in the process.
19
Matteo
* * *
My phone starts to vibrate. Looking down, I notice a new text has come through.
Cyrus: Where the fuck are you?
Me: Meaning?
Cyrus: The game. Are you coming or not?
It dawns on me then that I have been so wrapped up in my wife and her father, I haven’t stopped by Cyrus’s poker game for a hot minute.
Breaking old habits. Not a good look for you, Matteo.
Cyrus Reed might be my banker, but he also holds one of the most exclusive high-stakes poker games on the East Coast. Which also happens to be a perfect way to clean dirty money.
Me: Busy.
Cyrus: Get your BUSY ass over here. I have business to discuss.
My head shakes, knowing full well Cyrus won’t stop until I agree. He’s a dick, but I trust him, and outside of my men, that’s a rare thing.
I turn to Lorenzo and nod.
“We’re leaving. Get the helicopter ready.”
His right eyebrow quirks up. “Where we off to, Boss?”
“Stop calling me Boss, Lorenzo. No one is around.”
“Fine, dick. Where to?”
I chuckle at that, smiling at my cousin. “Cyrus.” There is no reason to explain. Lorenzo knows all about what goes on at Cyrus’s estate in Connecticut.
Thirty minutes later, the helicopter is landing on the sprawling grounds of the compound he owns.
Once the blades stop spinning, we exit and step out into the cold winter night, heading straight for the side entrance that will lead us to the room where we will play cards.
I nod to the security stationed outside, and he swings open the door.
Coming here used to be a weekly occurrence, but my trips have become fewer with everything going on with my cousin.
When I step into the room, a cloud of smoke hits me. Tobias is in his usual spot, smoking a Cuban.
I’m surprised to see everyone is here tonight. All the men who have my back in this business—Cyrus, Tobias, Alaric, James, Mathis, Trent. All men I do business with, but also men I call friends.
“I didn’t think you would show,” Cyrus says as I step farther into the room.
Together, we walk toward the table, Lorenzo trailing a step behind.
“You said you wanted to talk, so I’m here.”
“I was lying.”
I cock my head at his candid answer.
“Then why am I here?”
He takes a seat and gives me a pointed look to also sit. “Tobias told me what happened.”
“Did I miss something? Are we a bunch of women who sit down and discuss shit now?”
“You’re at war, Matteo. Your shit was stolen. Talking about this doesn’t make us anything. I’m concerned for my bank.” His voice comes out monotone as if he’s trying not to seem fazed, but I know him. I went to war for him in the past. You don’t go to battle without forming attachments. His battle is mine, and my battle is now his.
“I’m still going to deposit money. I’m not broke,” I deadpan.
“Who’s broke?” Alaric asks as he sits.
“Matteo.” Tobias laughs.
“Fuck you.” I chuckle back.
“Don’t worry, half the money he gives Cyrus is invested with me,” Trent Aldridge chimes in like the condescending, arrogant ass that he is. When I first met Trent, I thought he was a douche, but he has long since proved himself to me.
