Page 12 of Pretty Lies

“Your call,” she returned.

She hadn’t been seated more than a minute before a server came over with the house’s drink for her and another glass of whiskey for J. The smile and wink that was shared between her brother and the server made Della think there might be another reason why J wasn’t interested in her friend. She chose not to point it out or ask.

She loved her friend.

Wished she could help her.

J was still her blood. Her brother. No matter what. Way back when he had been doing work for their dad that she couldn’t even consider trying herself, J was the one who dared to break the rules first which paved the way for her. He had her back no matter what.

So, she would always have his, too.

Pulling out the phone from her purse and dialing her friend’s number, she muttered to her brother, “I’m just saying, maybe if you gave her a taste of whatever she wanted, she’d get over it. And, if she’s distracted by her obsession with you for a little while, she might stop asking me about my ex for five damn seconds.”

Della wanted to move on.

She was ready to do exactly that.

It was hard when someone kept talking about it, though. She knew Jennika meant well. That was the only reason why she didn’t just outright tell her to knock it the fuck off. Her patience was still wearing thin.

At the mere mention of Luis, J’s scowl from earlier came back with a vengeance. “I told you to tell that prick to—”

“And I did,” she snapped.

Her friend’s phone went to voicemail.

Where was she?

Ending the call, Della threw it back in her purse and turned on her brother in the booth. “I did tell him to get the hell out of my life—you were there when I did it, remember? Except he won’t get the hint and stay gone because he keeps showing up whenever I think he’s finally gone away, and I don’t want him to start a problem for Dad.”

Which was easier to do—both keep Luis away from her father and her father away from Luis—when her ex ran a small gang in the Heights, and her father ran his main operation outside of the city entirely. Especially when J and Della did most of the footwork for their dad inside the city, and he wasn’t as hands on as he used to be with it all.

Keeping shit under his radar was simple.

J’s gaze cut to her, the matching dark brown irises flashing with his worry and rage all at the same time. “He’s small-time in the city—Dad’s got a seat at the Outfit table as a Capo. It wouldn’t even be a fair fight, Della. You don’t have to handle the asshole alone. You’re choosing to, yeah?”

So be it.

She could handle it.

Everyone else just liked to think she couldn’t.

That was the problem.

“I’m not choosing anything because you think I want to get back with Luis,” Della told her brother. “Just so that’s clear. We’re done—me and him, it’s over. I’m over it. Last weekend took care of that, believe me.”

Then, J grinned crookedly. He looked more like their mother, and so did she with high, sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and angular jaws; his was simply the more masculine version. Although he couldn’t take much from their dad. After all, biologically, J wasn’t even Frankie’s even if that’s what all the papers said. He couldn’t be when he’d met and married their mother when she was pregnant with Joel.

“What?” she asked when he kept grinning.

“Right, yeah, tattooed guy in the club’s employee bathroom.”

“Oh, my God.”

Her groan had her brother laughing.

“I drunk call you every time I go out,” she said, “and then I have to remember it later because you don’t even have the decency to tell me I do it the next day.”

J shrugged like he didn’t care at all. “I figure if you call me when you’re drunk and spill all your secrets, then at least you’re not doing it with someone you can’t trust.”