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I follow her out the door. I think I’m going to love our life together. This—waking up with her, getting ready each morning next to her—it’s the very definition of marital bliss.
* * *
Every good feeling I had this morning has gone out the fucking window. I’ve only been here for fifteen minutes, and these assholes have already managed to piss me off. “There’s no fucking way my pops was gunning for more territory. I would have known,” I growl.
They’re accusing my father and John Senior of colluding to take over half of New York, by running the other families off.
“Are you sure about that, T? That whole marriage between the families, that was to build an alliance. We received evidence that John was involved with child sex trafficking. We voted to move in. Your father was the only one who vetoed the decision.”
I don’t believe it. “My father was many things, but even he’d never get involved in the skin trade—not with kids.”
“You’re right. He wouldn’t.Knowingly. Unfortunately, he was blind to everything John was doing. Refused to believe it,” Beno says, the head of the Garzo family.
“Where’s this evidence? And if John Senior was involved, what’s happening now that he’s out of the picture?”
“Here.” A manilla folder gets thrown at me. There are a few things the mafia won’t stand for: sex trafficking, and anything having to do with kids. That shit makes me want to fucking throw up the eggs I ate this morning. Opening the folder, I scan the contents—picture after picture of John Senior and Junior at the docks… with steel cages of children being loaded onto ships. I slam the folder shut and slide it back across the table. I don’t need to see anymore. “Look, we know you weren’t aware of this. Whether your father knew, and was in on it, is irrelevant now. What we need to do is put a fucking stop to it.”
I’d love to put a stop to John Junior.“I’ll happily take him out myself if that’s what you’re after,” I offer, leaning back in my chair.
“If it were that easy, he’d already be dead. What we need from you—well, you’re not going to like it, but it’s the only way we can bring down this whole fucking ring,” Beno says.
“Okay, let’s hear this grand plan.” For the next twenty minutes, I sit and listen quietly, giving each boss the respect they deserve. When they’ve finished telling me their plan, I agree. It’s what’s best. There’s just one flaw:I don’t want to fucking do it.
I can’t do it. But do I have a choice?
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” Neo asks from the passenger’s seat.
“There doesn’t seem to be any other way. Apart from the bullshit trafficking ring, that asshole is not going to give up his vendetta against Holly. He knows how to get to me, and our codes mean jack shit to him. I have to eradicate him. If this is how I can go about doing that, then I have to do it.”
I steal a cigarette off him. I don’t want to do this. It’s going to break us. I just hope that she’ll forgive me. That somehow, we will get through this and come out on the other side. “Just promise me you’ll look after her, Neo. I need to know she’s going to be okay.”
“I would die for her, you know that. But do I think for a minute she’ll be okay, mentally? After this? Not a fucking chance, and you know that too.”
“I don’t have a choice. You know what you have to do.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Wow, I’ve never second-guessed my profession before today. I came in this morning full of energy, excitement, and ideas. It’s only lunchtime, and everything I thought I knew about education has gone out the window.
I’ve never met a more entitled, pretentious bunch of brats in my life. I shouldn’t speak about kids that way, but that’s exactly what they are: spoiled little brats. With the exception of a set of twins in my class… One boy and one girl, who glare at the other students every time they’ve refused to do something or threatened me with a lawsuit—or better yet, with their daddies.
It’s a little after noon, and I’m hiding in my classroom, trying not to bloody cry. How ridiculous! I can handle this; they’re just kids. I’m Holly Reynolds—no, scratch that. I’m Holly Valentino. I can do anything, according to T anyway. I’m still working on believing that.
“Mrs. Valentino?” I look up to find the twins, Gabriel and Gabriella. I have no idea what their parents were thinking with those names.
“Ah, yes?” I’m a little confused, because I’ve only introduced myself as Miss Reynolds. It was a slip of the tongue this morning, out of habit, and I decided to just run with it.
“We can sort them out for you if you want?” Gabriel says.
“Sort them out?” I question.
“Yep, T would want us to. He wouldn’t want anyone disrespecting you. Especially these clowns,” Gabriella says. “They just don’t know who you are. If they did, they wouldn’t be so mouthy.”
I’m at a loss for words. “You know T?” I probe. Did my husband seriously put little spies in my classroom? Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him.
“We’re cousins—second cousins. But I guess that makes you our cousin too. Our dad said to make sure we looked out for you today. Nobody is allowed to disrespect the family.” Gabriel nods intently.
