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“Right…” I said, gaining a dirty stare from Enzo for the way I drew out the R sound. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I’ve decided your cousin will be getting married. And all family will be at the announcement of her engagement,” he said.

Okay? Weird subject change.

I hated that word. Family. It was a load of bullshit, but I knew better than to voice my opinion on that. Dominick was particular when it came to how society viewed his family, and unfortunately, I was included in his delusion.

“Of course. Who is he, by the way?” I asked. I didn’t give a shit, but I wanted to leave already. Honestly, this meeting could have been an email.

“Caleb Callahan.”

Thank God my uncle never offered me a drink, or I’d have spit it across his desk at that very moment.

“Wait. As in Caleb Callahan from the Irish Mob? Why the fuck is Adriana marrying him? Don’t you have a peace treaty with them?” I ask, my voice going up an octave.

Enzo growled from beside me, reaching for the glass of whiskey Dominick poured him. “Disloyal fuck was part of the Irish Mob. But he left and formed a new criminal organization with two other bastards. The Syndicate. That’s what the assholes call themselves.” His voice dripped with disdain. “It’s made up of the second sons from the three families. They all left their organizations to form their own. That’s what is supposed to be on that file. Information on their plans,” Enzo said.

Well, fuck me. The only man who’d ever almost caught me was about to marry my bitch of a cousin, and I was going to have to attend. Honestly, I assumed I’d avoid the man for the rest of my life. Now the three of them together made sense. They weren’t drinking buddies. They were criminal partners. A million questions turned in my brain, but I stayed quiet. Listening was my best tool at the moment.

“He’s their little ringleader. Those sons of bitches are trying to strong-arm their way in on our territory,” Dominick spit out, his meaty fist slamming on his desk. “And I can’t kill the fuckers because their families all think they’ll make their way back into the fold. So now my principessa has to marry that Irish stronzo so we can form an alliance and keep them from fucking me over,” Dominick added.

I wanted to roll my eyes at his dramatics. My cousin was a snarky bitch, and if he wanted to inflict pain and suffering on the Syndicate, she was the perfect person for the job. That nasally voice and self-centered attitude would make anyone want to swallow a bullet.

“And you’re sure you need me there?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. I’d avoided family gatherings for years. Specifically, since the last wedding Dominick had thrown for a daughter.

“Don’t be a smart-ass, Scarletta. I taught you better than that. Famiglia over everything. I won’t have you fucking this up. You’re to attend and stay out of the way.”

I wanted to point out that it was easy to stay out of the way if I wasn’t there, but I bit my tongue.

A ring disrupted the growing tension.

“What? Fine, give me a sec.” Dominick blocked the phone speaker like it would drown out his bitching. “Enzo, set her up with the details we have for this weekend and get the fuck out of my office.”

When those words left his lips, I was out the door, making a beeline for the street before he decided he needed something more. Before the memories crept through my mental blockade.

“Scarletta, wait. We need to go over the details.”

“What’s there to go over, Enzo? I’ll show up and play happy Romano famiglia member, despite all the looks from people wanting to fight me or fuck me.”

I didn’t make it more than a few feet before his hand wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me to a stop. My eyes narrowed at the thick fingers digging into my skin, my fingers itching for my gun.

“I might’ve known you my whole life, Enzo. But touch me like this again, and I’ll have no problem taking your fingers from you,” I bit out.

Worry flashed across his face as he snatched his hand back like I’d burned him. “Scarletta, don’t be like this. Talk to me.”

Wow. Was he fucking serious?

“What the fuck does ‘don’t be like this’ mean, Enzo?” I spit out, my anger building.

It’d been a while since I’d really looked at Enzo. I avoided him like the plague. Clearly, the boy I’d once known was now very much a man. He was like the criminal Clark Kent. Suave, clean-shaven, strong jawline. Everything a woman wanted.

His coffee-colored eyes sparked with interest when I stared a little too long, mistaking my attention for desire, but that emotion hadn’t been there in years.

“Scarletta, you know I didn’t have a choice.” His fingertips came up to brush my face right as reality crashed into me like a freight train.

A sound that should have come from a hissing cat escaped as I retreated back. “Fuck you, Enzo. That’s the line you want to go with? That you didn’t have a choice in marrying my cousin while you were dating me?” I stepped into his space, no longer able to contain my rage. “Did you have a choice when you came over and fucked me before leaving the fucking wedding invitation on your pillow for me to find? You didn’t even have the fucking balls to break the news to me.”

He looked away, a pink tinge of shame crawling up his neck. Pathetic. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.