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“I swear, when I see Tito and Antonio next, I’m going to punch them so fucking hard—“
“Olive.” I shake my head and she growls under breath.
“I’m just so fucking pissed. How could they do that to you?”
“I don’t know.” I whisper.
“But Vince’s plan… it could work, you know. The Bratva are famously fickle.”
“Yeah, which is why I doubt it will work.”
“Espie, you have to have hope.” Her ignorance causes me to fly into a rage. I sit up, nearly smacking my head with hers, and her round eyes go even rounder.
“Olive, it’s far too easy for you to give me a speech about being hopeful. You’ve had every reason in your life to hope because you have nothing to lose if you live how you want.”
“That’s not fair.” Her bottom lip pouts as I slide off the bed and cross to the bathroom, unsure how to carry on the conversation because I’m not even mad at her anymore. It’s not her fault that she was born last, not even her fault that she can’t comprehend what all of this means for me.
There’s a knock on my door as I enter the bathroom, and Olive’s feet tell me she’s getting it. I want to avoid looking at myself in the mirror, knowing it will be tragic. The entire bathroom is covered with reflective surfaces, so I go into my closet and flop on the floor, about to scream, before Olive comes in with a furious look.
“What?” I ask, and she shakes her short hair angrily.
“We’re expected to be at dinner tonight with the Mikhailov’s.”
“Oh.” I shrug.
“You knew.”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
“I don’t know, Olive. Maybe because I was too busy worrying about my entire life imploding before my eyes.” She blinks like I’ve hit her and sits on the edge of our gold bathtub.
“You know, I get it.” She whispers and I look up, about to fight her again, but she raises a hand as she continues. “I get that I don’t understand.” She looks up at me, eyes narrowing with sincerity. “But, I want to be here for you. Whatever happens, I’m in this with you.”
“Olive—“
“Don’t fight me on this, Espie. I intend to make sure you get your happy ending. If that means going to stupid dinners and dressing fancy and acting like a living doll, I’ll do it. You’re not going through this alone. Not a fucking chance,mimmo.” She sticks out her pinky to me, something we only do when we really mean it. When we’ll do anything and everything to keep our promises to one another.
I shake her pinky with mine, and we kiss our fists to seal the deal before she pulls me into a tight hug.
“I won’t let them get away with this.” She whispers. “Not a fucking chance.”
4
ADRIK
Idon’t put on a nice ass suit for just anyone– not even my father demanding me to wear one to dinner tonight at the San Giovanni’s. So, a leather jacket, black skinny jeans with a tear in the knee, matching Prada boots, and a silver chain is what I go for. My father’s look of extreme displeasure is already greeting me before I’ve gotten into the car.
He looks as if he might just strangle me, and it would be nothing new if he did. But he won’t. Not tonight. Not when I’m the token to get him everything he’s ever wanted.
Doesn’t mean it won’t stop him from hitting me everywhere but my face.
“You turn the fuck around right now and put on that AMIRI suit of Kias’ before I shoot you in the fucking skull.”
“Woah.” I say through tight lips as I light a cigarette, walking around the car. My heart quickens as I reach for the handle because I’m far too sober to deal with my father’s rage tonight.
“Adrik!” He growls with warning through the window, but I don’t stop attempting to get in the car until I hear the click of his gun.
