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Shaye
Itoss and turn all night after leaving Nico at the hospital, my only comfort coming from the fluffy down comforter blanketing my body. Sunlight streams through a crack in the drawn curtains and I moan, throwing the cover over my head. I have no idea if he was released, if he’s home, if he had any internal injuries…nothing. Max didn’t say a word about it on the way home, and I didn’t dare to ask. I already aroused enough suspicion with my behavior last night. And Max has been acting odd, stranger than usual, especially where Nico is concerned. I don’t need to give him any reason to suspect there is anything between us other than friendship. I’ve seen what Max can do with a tire iron.
How doped up must Nico have been last night to say such insane things to me? As if we could get away with sneaking around. As if we could outright defy our families and have a normal relationship despite who we are and who are fathers are.
It’s impossible, but for a few minutes it was nice to believe it could be true.
And then Max’s face pops into my mind, the crazed look in his eye sending shivers down my spine. I adore my brother, but he’s not the most stable person on two legs. He tries to keep his temper from me, but I have friends…friends who have witnessed things…friends who have filmed things…and said things that have made my stomach turn.
But we don’t talk about any of it. He and my dad try to shield me from their business dealings, but I don’t exactly live under a rock. I know why they sent me down to Miami. And after that night with Nico, I was more than happy to flee New Jersey.
My phone pings with a text, and I fling the comforter off of me and lunge for it. My heart is caught in my throat for the millisecond that it takes me to enter my passcode. But the text isn’t from Nico. It’s from Sloane.
I let out a sigh and fall back against the pillows to read the message.
Heading to the gym. Get your ass up and come meet me.
I roll my eyes and reply.
No shot in hell. How about coffee instead?
It takes a second for Sloane to reply, but I know how easily she can be talked out of a workout. Bitch has a ridiculously fast metabolism anyway. She doesn’t need to go to the gym this morning. Not when I desperately need my best friend to talk some sense into me before I make a phone call that will cause me a hell of a lot more trouble.
Okay. Coffee first, workout after.
I snicker and reply with my concurrence. Whatever pacifies her. The truth is, I need her help with screwing my head on straight again.
Mafia princes don’t typically take to a life of monogamy, and judging by Nico’s past selections, I can’t believe he’ll ever settle down. He’ll only settle, and only for a little while.
I roll out of my warm bed and pull on a pair of Lululemon leggings and a matching tank top. I pile my hair on top of my head and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and dot some concealer under my eyes since I look like Night of the Living Dead right now.
A few minutes later, I run down the stairs with my sneakers in hand. I furrow my brow and walk toward my father’s office. The door is closed, but I can hear elevated voices floating into the expansive foyer. High ceilings mean sound carries much farther. I don’t even need to press my ear against the door to catch bits of what’s being said by my dad.
“Grandfather…respect…Shaye…accident…keep away…”
My eyes widen. Grandfather? Me? What the hell are they talking about?
Max’s voice rises, and I can hear everything clearly now although it makes my skin crawl.
“I told you I’ll handle him my way!”
I creep closer to the door, my throat tight.
“Max, you need to get your head out of your ass. Do not let your personal feelings about him fuck up your work.”
“But, Dad, I need something of my own. I can’t be under Nico forever, not when—”
“You’ve always been so goddamned impatient! Give it time. Build back your reputation and then I can bring you in. Right now, you’re too much of a loose cannon. Learn the ropes and stay out of trouble. The time will come.”
Max snorts. “I don’t need time. I need fucking money!”
“You need a hell of a lot more than that.”
I can almost see my father’s large frame hovering over Max until he finally pulls away and concedes, which happens pretty often.
“He’s back, and you need to deal with it, not get yourself ousted from the family.”
“I can’t believe you’re telling me I need to play nice with that motherfucker after what he pulled.”
