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“Are they good to you, Aida?” he says.
I hesitate, thinking of how Callum stole my clothes last night, how he pounced on me in the car and cut my dress off. How his mouth tasted. How my body responded to him.
“You know I can take care of myself, Papa,” I say at last.
He nods. “I know.”
“Tymon Zajac came to Callum’s fundraiser last night,” I tell him.
Papa sucks in a sharp breath. If we were outside, he might have spit on the ground.
“The Butcher,” he says. “What did he want?”
“He said he wanted some Transit Authority property that’s about to be auctioned off. But I don’t think that was it, not really—I think he was testing Callum. And maybe me, too. To see how we’d react to a demand.”
“What did Callum say?”
“Told him to fuck off.”
“How did Zajac take it?”
“He left.”
My father frowns.
“Be careful, Aida. That won’t go unanswered.”
“I know. Don’t worry, though—the Griffins have security everywhere.”
He nods but doesn’t look satisfied.
I hear a clattering sound in the downstairs kitchen. This house has no insulation—noise travels all over.
Next comes the rumbling sound of Dante’s voice, and a laugh that sounds like Sebastian.
“Your brothers are home,” Papa says.
“Come on.” I rest my hand on his shoulder as I stand up from the piano bench.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” Papa says.
I head downstairs. Sure enough, all three of my brothers are crammed in the small kitchen with Greta. Dante is trying to clean up the shards of the shattered plates Sebastian knocked to the floor with one of his crutches. Seb’s knee is still encased in some high-tech brace that’s supposed to be helpful, but instead has turned him into even more of a walking disaster than usual.
At least he is walking. Sort of.
“Hey, clumsy,” I say, giving him a hug.
“Was that you playing up there?” Sebastian says, hugging me back.
“Yeah.”
“You sound just like her.”
“No, I don’t.” I shake my head.
“You definitely don’t,” Nero agrees.
“Give me the broom,” Greta demand of Dante. “You’re just spreading the mess around.”
