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“That’s what I was doing with my sister before she married this prick. Now she thinks she can tell me what the fuck to do and how to run the family business. Her husband lets her act like a cunt about it, always taking her side.”
She squints curiously. “Family business?”
“Exactly! I’m supposed to be in charge of that shit,” I spit while swirling the beer at the bottom of my bottle. Gonna need a refill soon. “That’smyfamily. That’smyplace. Citta Nostra.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you Jonas Bernadetti?”
My brows furrow. “How do you know that?”
Her nostrils flare with familiarity while she nods resolutely. “Your stupid sister stole my intended husband.”
“Youwere supposed to marry Pavel?”
Well, isn’t this a twist?
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes, lashes growing heavy with drunkenness. She shakes her head and leans against the counter. “She stole him right out from under me.”
“That sucks.” Of course, I don’t tell her thatI’mthe one who helped Liya steal Pavel from her.
She shrugs bitterly. “What can I do about it? He didn’t want me. He didn’t see what we had. He just…” She bites her lower lip and looks away, but I don’t miss the tears billowing in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. They’re married now.”
And then it hits me.
“Hold on,” I sigh while shaking my head. A knowing grin crosses my lips. “You were at that fucking shit-show of a wedding, weren’t you?”
“Where my father was kicked out for making a scene? Sure was.”
I raise my bottle. “Another toast to the two of us.”
She grins and raises her glass. “To being fucked up?”
“No, to being condemned to watching our families fuck up forever.”
She clinks her bottle against mine. “Works for me.”
“So, you’re on the run?”
“Yeah, I hate it.” She sets her bottle down and rubs her shoulders. “What is it like? Always being on the run?”
I frown. “It’s this never-ending series of always looking over your shoulder to see if someone is going to come after you.” I sniff while turning toward the bar, memories bubbling in my mind. “You sleep with a knife or a gun under your pillow. You avoid staying in one place for too long or else you get recognized or something.”
She touches my forearm. Her fingers feel electric and warm on my skin. I like it, so I don’t move. “You must be so brave and resourceful to do all that shit. Especially for your sister.”
Irritation boils inside me. “That’s because I know what must be done.”
She squeezes my arm. “What are the things you know must be done?” She grins warmly as she leans forward. “I mean, since you’re supposed to be the don, right? You must know all those things.”
She traces circles into my forearm, inspiring me to lean toward her. She’s wearing cherry perfume and it’s intoxicating at this proximity, swimming through my brain just like the alcohol—and all the ideas I have about what I could do to her if I could get her alone.
“Being a don means being ruthless when necessary.”
She leans closer, her breath sweeping over my lips.
“Killing when needed.”
Her fingers drift into my lap.
“Making sure people stay in their fucking lane.”
