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I hear a hand slam down on a hard surface. More than likely, my father’s hand. “Dammit, Max! You will do exactly what I say, exactly how I say it, or I’ll put you on a fucking plane to Sicily!”

“Don’t you understand that nobody will take me seriously unless I let them know who they’re dealing with? They’ll never come to me with business opportunities if I don’t show them what I can offer.”

“And don’t you understand that you’ll be the first one with a bullet in your skull if you’re not careful? You have to pick the right allies, not continue racking up enemies. You did enough damage with the Luccheses. Your mother…” My dad sighs and I can almost see him scrubbing a hand down his face as he tries to reason with Max, a near impossible feat. “Think of your mother, Maximo. Stick with Nico. He’ll take care of you.”

Oh fuck. He’s using Max’s birth name. He must be hella frustrated.

“Fine, Dad. Just remember what happened when you and your best friend used to tag team together. How’d that turn out for you?” I hear a chair scrape against the polished hardwood floor, and I dart into the kitchen without waiting to hear my dad’s response, busying myself with a glass of orange juice so they don’t suspect that I’ve heard everything I just did. That last scathing comment was a low blow from Max, and I’m sure it hit my dad hard.

“Sweetie! Are you okay?”

I jump, nearly choking on my sip of the pulpy Tropicana I love so much. “Mom! When did you guys get home? I didn’t hear the door.”

“We got home about an hour ago.” My mother comes around the island and puts her hands on my shoulders. The scent of her favorite perfume wafts around my head. “I was so upset to hear what happened last night to Nico. The roads are so dangerous. He’s lucky it wasn’t more serious. If he’d have been going faster, that accident could have been a lot worse.”

Accident. Interesting word choice. Something about that whole situation didn’t sit well with me. A hit and run. Son of Joe Salesi. Not a word spoken by Max after we left the hospital. His unwillingness to work with Nico, his desire to break away and create his own opportunities, even though nobody wants to work with him because he’s got such a short fuse. And then that weird mention of a dinner, one that Nico had no clue about. Max must have wanted to fuck with his head, maybe to make himself feel more empowered. These guys feed on power and control and love to exert it whenever possible. It’s a never-ending game of who’s got the longest dick.

And based on the heated conversation between my dad and Max a minute ago, it appears that the “accident” might not have been such an accident after all.

A tightness assaults my chest when I allow the next thought to cross my mind. But no…that would be insane. Max wouldn’t do something like that…would he? To clear his path, so to speak?

The office door opens, and Max walks out, followed by my father. His dark eyes are fixed on mine and a tiny shiver slithers down my spine. Oh, God, yes, he would. In a freaking heartbeat. Because Max wants what Max wants, what everyone else wants be damned.

I flash a wide smile at my father and rush into his waiting arms. “Morning, Daddy.”

He drops a kiss on top of my head. “Morning, sunshine. Headed to the gym?”

“Something like that.” I chuckle and pull away to finish my juice. “How was dinner last night?” It’s an innocent question, but I can see my dad’s spine stiffen while he exchanges a look with Max.

“It was good. We had a really nice time.”

“I’d forgotten about it until Max mentioned it to Nico last night when we ran into him at Starbucks.” This is me playing a very stupid game. I want my dad to know Max was messing with Nico last night for some reason. Despite the falling out Dad had with Joe Salesi, he’s never treated Nico with anything but respect, and Max hates that Dad values his even temper and good business sense. Truth be told, if Max is left to his own devices, he’ll end up face-down in a bloody ditch somewhere. He needs an alliance with Nico, and Dad knows that, even if Max resists.

His jaw sets and he narrows his eyes at Max before returning a relaxed gaze to me. “Yes, Mom and I were invited by a few people who wanted to show us around their new hotel. I’d been involved in the construction, and they wanted to host us for their soft opening. It was only a small group of investors.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” I nod, not daring to look at my brother, even though I could see smoke billowing out of his ears in my periphery. So it really wasn’t anything noteworthy after all. Mom and Dad get invited to those dinners all the time. I wonder if Max knew the real reason behind the invite and still felt the need to mess with Nico. Another power play? “Was it really nice or totally gaudy and overdone?”

“The latter.” My mom laughs into her coffee mug. “But you know we told them how magnificent it was.”

“Of course.” I giggle.

“I’m going to shoot some hoops,” Max grumbles, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and stomping toward the front door.

“What’s his problem?” I ask my dad.

Dad walks around the island and wraps his arms around my mother’s waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “You know your brother. He gets himself worked up about nonsense, never sees the big picture.”

Yep, that’s Max. To a T. And it’s why he keeps fighting the small bullshit battles instead of concentrating on the future. It’s how he’s always been. Always tactical, never strategic. I think that’s why Dad wants to keep him linked to Nico. He knows it’s Max’s only shot at actually having a future bigger than being someone’s hired gun.

“He’s wound up pretty tight these days. I worry about him.”

Mom nods. “We all do, sweetie. I feel like Vito’s death hit him pretty hard. But it’s good you’re home for a while. He really misses you, so maybe having you around will calm him down.”

I drain the remaining juice from my glass and put it into the sink. My chest tightens at the mention of Nico’s grandfather. He was beloved by everyone, and he’d always been so thoughtful and patient and kind to me and Max throughout our lives. It was hard to believe he’d been the boss of one of the biggest crime families in the tri-state area for so many years. “I’ll do my best to get him out of his funk.” I smile and give a little wave. “Later!”

“Have a great day, honey. And be careful, it’s still very icy.”

“I will, Mom. Love you guys!”

“Love you, too,” my parents respond in unison. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see them hugging and smiling at each other, murmuring things I have no desire to know anything about. But it’s nice to see how solid they are as a couple. At least, I hope they’re that solid. In our type of family, things are never what they seem.

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