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“I do what I want to do.” Her shoulders roll, acting like she doesn’t care.
I shake my head at her as I walk out the door.
My sister never fails to talk out of her ass. If Carlo didn’t want her leaving the house anymore without him being there, he would put an end to it, and Ana wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.
My feet burn on the patio as the summer heat sets the rocks on fire.
The pool is crystal-clear, the bright sun breaking through the surface of the water.
I lie on the lounge chair watching the trees above me sway in the warm breeze. The rays of sun shine through each movement of the branches. The heat inches over my body relentlessly, so I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel everything in this moment: the fresh air mixed with the smell of pollen.
The feeling of Zen escapes me as I hear the engine of Giovanni’s car pulling into the drive with force. The sound of multiple car doors shutting fills the empty air around me.
I try to look past the walls of the house to see who else came with him, but they have already left their cars.
I stand up and walk toward the gate that keeps the back yard private.
Green vines cling to the bricks of the house. I peek my head above the fence and see my cousin Raymond with a woman attached to his arm.
A woman I know far too much about.
She has no right to walk around with a smile as large as her ego.
* * *
GIOVANNI
I pull the door to the Romanos’ house open.
My car blocks in another as two men and a woman follow me inside. I hold the door open for them without saying a word.
One of the men looks familiar. He’s the cousin of Nina. If my memory serves me right, he was the one smoking weed at Carlo’s wedding.
There is a time and place for everything.
He looks like Max—tall with wavy hair. He has a beard growing. If he doesn’t shave it off soon, he will look like a fucking crackhead.
“Thank you, Giovanni,” the woman says as she walks into the house.
I think I know her as well, but I cannot put my finger on it. I follow behind them as Rolando greets us.
When I left last night, I got a message from an unknown number. I assume it was Kirill because the message was straightforward. Something along the lines of, “You will see me if you threaten my family again.”
I never replied because I will continue to threaten his family as he does mine. After the stunt I pulled last night and letting Mikhail walk away with barely a scratch on him, I know that the word will get around soon.
Sylvia, that’s the girl’s name. I met her years ago at one of the many clubs I own. I own far more now compared to what I did when I met her, but she stuck out like a sore thumb.
Her hair was jet-black, but she’s dyed it to have a hint of red or purple in it. The strands of her hair share the same light hue as Nina’s.
Sylvia’s the kind of woman to be upfront about what she wants. While I sipped on water she assumed was vodka, she whispered all the things she wanted to do to me if I were to take her home with me. There is a saying that implies alcohol is one’s liquid courage, and for her it was. I can’t help but wonder if it still is.
She grabs onto Raymond’s arm like she is his jewelry. If I cared enough, I would let him know what Sylvia is: anything but loyal.
Men have a tendency to want the things I have, so when I found out she was fucking some of the men who made their appearances at my family dinners, I cut her off fast without any remorse. The sex was good—I can’t complain about that. But to hell if anyone else has what ismine.
Twenty minutes fly by me much faster than I thought they would. Conversation with Rolando is interesting. The way he talks about his daughters as if he doesn’t care about them, and the next minute he is talking about them as if they are worth more than anything he has worked his whole life for.
I tune out all his insults about the women in his life because starting shit right now would throw too much on my plate.
