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2
The meeting was going about as well as could be expected, considering how long my brothers and I were in the same room together. Since Alex, the sef of our family, married my little sister’s best friend, Nina, he’d gotten territorial over his apartment, so we now convened in my apartment, since I rarely used it for my own personal use.
Was it possible to feel like an orphan in the bosom of a large family? I could testify that the answer was a resounding yes. I loved my family, but that didn’t mean they understood me. Alex, who was two years older than I was, knew the most, but even he didn’t know half of it.
Luca this, Luca that. Luca, Luca, Luca. Every fucking day, my name thundered through the house as the Lupu patriarch tracked me down to punish me over some minor infraction. Call it pride, but I never revealed the extent to which my father tortured me.
Which is why I fucking loved seeing my half brother, Sebastian. His very existence made my fucking day. It was a “fuck you” to my brothers, a reminder of the colossal stain on our dead father’s otherwise pristine reputation. A mistake that he hid from us for years: his second family. Not only did he have a side piece, but he’d impregnated her twice, bringing forth Sebastian and my half sister, Emma. Christ, but that guy was a narcissistic bastard, and the truth had finally come to light. It was hardest on my youngest brother, Nicu, who worshipped him. God only knows why. It was a continual source of tension between us.
On the agenda was Nicu’s impending engagement party. Alex wanted me to host it at my country estate in Westchester. Normally, I kept my private life separate from family and business, but I was willing to make an exception this one time. It seemed like the right thing to do since I was the reason for his looming marriage.
I doubted I’d ever marry. I got my base needs taken care of by whichever woman was available. Made sure all parties walked away satisfied and then moved on. I didn’t fuck the same woman twice because that created expectations I had no intention of fulfilling. If I ever did marry, I’d sure as hell never marry a mafie woman. When you married a mafie girl, you married for life. Divorce was forever off the table. End of discussion.
I refused to be the sacrificial lamb for clan and family. Even though I was technically the next one in line to get married, I figured it was good form to accept Alex’s request. I had warded off my big brother’s pressure, from his cajoling to his threats, and had won. I could be magnanimous by opening up my home to the brother who’d caved in on my behalf, even if I judged him for it.
Palms out, I lifted my hands and gave my consent. “Hey, as long as it’s not me, I don’t care.”
Tension in the room shot up. Alex narrowed his eyes at me. Nicu shot me a vicious scowl.
It wasn’t necessarily the most diplomatic thing to say, but I resented Nicu for kowtowing to Alex’s demands. Perhaps I shouldn’t hold a grudge, considering I refused to marry the Popescu girl, but I couldn’t help myself. Nicu toed the line like a little bitch, happy for any scraps of approval from Alex. Despite the serious darkness deep within him and a rep for being violent, when it came to the family, he was as docile as a sheep.
And I would never, ever be a sheep. Unless I was proudly toting the label of black sheep. I didn’t have anything against marriage per se, I just wasn’t interested in it for its own sake, which was about all a mafie marriage would ever be. No doubt the ever-present baggage of the past was behind my decision, but it wasn’t the only reason. Mafie girls, for the most part, were superficial and…sheeplike. The very antithesis of me.
Tatum, always the peacemaker, cut through the tension. “This doesn’t have to be a fight—”
Nicu and I were long overdue for a fistfight, but I was willing to let it lie until another day…if he was.
“Doesn’t it though? Isn’t there always a fight?” I asked with a sardonic raise of one eyebrow.
Unlike Nicu, I didn’t stand down. I didn’t do whatever I was told like some mindless idiot. I questioned. I argued. I fought, if necessary. I certainly got beatings from my father more times than I could count. Each one only served to harden my resolve. That’s what the man could never understand. He always thought that the next punishment would break me. Instead, it reinforced my determination.
Tatum replied, “There’s nothing to argue about. Your house is the biggest. Considering you rejected the girl, it’s the least you could do.”
“Et tu, Brute?” I teased.
Tatum was the closest I would ever call a man a friend. He knew more about my childhood than my own brothers. I was toying with him; he wasn’t really throwing me under the bus. If anything, he was usually my ally since Nicu always backed Alex. Whereas I rarely missed an opportunity to challenge my sef.
He rolled his eyes at me. “Stop acting like the victim. If anything, it’s Nicu we should pity, but look at him. No complaints from him.”
That’s because he’s a sheep, and he doesn’t give a shit whom he marries.
“Hey, at least I heard she’s hot. A blonde no less,” I rumbled out.
“And feisty. She is a Popescu, after all,” piped up Tatum.
“Thrilling news, Tatum,” Nicu replied dryly. “As if a virgin will have a clue how to satisfy me.”
Nicu then turned to me with a raised brow. “Thanks for trying to pimp her on me, but you’re the one into blondes, not me. Which underscores that you should have stepped up to marry her.”
I sent him a droll look. “We’ve already established that hell will freeze over before that happens.”
Guilt nipped at my heels. I was well aware that I was being difficult. It was in my nature to be a contrarian, but Tatum was right. It wouldn’t kill me to open my house for Nicu’s party. It was my safe place, but nothing they could do there could sully it. I wouldn’t let them.
I bought the estate in Westchester, north of the city, to escape. While they went home to Sunnyside, Queens every weekend, I drove my Bugatti in the opposite direction.
I hated cities in general, but Queens was a shit borough, through and through, especially the tight mafie community of Little Bucharest. Just hearing the subway rattling above ground on Queens Boulevard made my back teeth grind. The second I had enough money in hand, I chose a fancy suburban neighborhood and snatched up a wooded estate with a long-ass driveway. I sought out the isolation and quiet for a reason. Namely, to get away from the city and my family.
“Fucking fine. My house it is, then. But swear to God, you better not get into a shoot-out in there or I will be mighty pissed.”
