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I swear, half the people in this house are morbid. They aren’t sane.
Rosa leaves, going off in the direction of the green-eyed trouble. I’m still seated in my chair, Tony at my side and Salvador at my mother’s. I glare at the dark-haired asshole that’s still grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.
“Hello, everyone. Miss me?” he questions.
My dad had two brothers. They’re both dead. Ivan’s my cousin, same as Michael. But while there’s not a lot of things I wouldn’t do for Michael, just the sight of Ivan’s face has me wanting to punch it into a wall. I haven’t seen him in years. He usually keeps to himself, staying in Manhattan, doing God knows what.
What the fuck is he doing here?
CHAPTER7
Elena
We were a happy family once. I remember a time when my dad would come home from work with a grin on his face. He would pick me up and swing me around on his shoulders, then fist bump Tony before kissing my mother. Back when we lived in Detroit, they were in love and everything was perfect. Then we moved to New York and it was honestly the beginning of the end.
Their relationship started having fissures soon after, tiny cracks that neither of them could fix. It’s been my biggest life lesson—through my parents, I learned just how quickly you can fall out of love with a person.
I’ll never blame my father for what happened, but according to him, one of the reasons my mother left was that she couldn’t handle his new job situation. She didn’t like that he was working for the mafia. It’s always felt like an excuse. One that stung even more due to the fact that she didn’t give it to us personally. It wouldn’t hurt so much if she had bothered to say goodbye. But she didn’t. We woke up one morning to our father’s heartbroken face as he told us our mom was gone.
I doubt I’ll ever forget that day. I was almost thirteen. Naturally, my first reaction was to laugh in my dad’s face. I thought he was joking. Hell, I thought my mother was hiding behind the couches and the two of them were simply playing a prank. I remember Tony accepting it, though. Almost like he already knew what was going to happen. He was older than me, so I guess he was less delusional. It took a while for me to come to terms with our new situation.
I’m pacing the foyer when my dad gets home. The first words I say as soon as soon as he opens the front door of our house is, “I’m not getting married.”
I waited for over an hour for him to arrive, needing to get everything I had to say off my chest. But my father barely spares me a look as he takes off his jacket. One of the help spawns from out of nowhere to collect it before disappearing again. I always forget they’re around. My father trained them to be invisible. They keep the house clean and cook our meals, during the rare moments when we eat here.
“Dad, did you hear me?” I step in front of him. “The only way you’re getting me into a wedding dress is if you’re planning to marry off a dead body.”
I look him in the eye as I say it, making sure he’s aware I’m fucking serious. My dad stares me down for a few seconds until finally he looks away.
“Elena,” he says sadly, “I just lost two of my friends. Anything could happen to me at any given moment. I just want to be able to walk you down the aisle,mia cara. Before I die, I want you to be happy.”
Something in my heart cracks and splinters. I hear him, and it hurts. But I also refuse to back down from this.
“I don’t have to be married to be happy, Dad,” I say icily. “And you’re fine. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
There can only be so many bad things, right? I know the universe takes and takes, but eventually, it has to back off. We’ve been through enough.
“This is all my fault,” my dad says, and I can see the exhaustion on his face. This has been weighing down on him. Guilt prods at the bottom of my stomach but I push it further down. “You’re so much like your mother. And I let it happen. I raised you to be rash and stubborn. I let you have everything you wanted. Sometimes, I really wish your mother was here.”
I stiffen. Any mention of her never fails to cause an ache in my heart. Sometimes it feels like there’s a hole there that’ll never be filled. She’s been gone for years. I have no idea if she’s dead or alive. I’m sure my dad knows, though. A man with his power and influence would be more than capable of finding a woman, even one who doesn’t want to be found. I’m sure he knows exactly where she is. He either doesn’t care or there’s a reason he can’t tell us.
“Well, she’s not, Dad. And you can’t force me to get married. This is the twenty-first century, wake up.”
With those words, I turn and head up to my room. I wasn’t joking. I have no interest in getting married, and certainly not any time soon. And even if by some chance I find myself walking down the aisle, it’ll be to a man I fucking choose.
A part of me can’t help but feel a little sad for whatever poor guy gets stuck with me forever. I hope he likes broken things.
* * *
Five-inch heels clackagainst the floor as Kiara Coleman walks across the airport, and I watch her for a second in amusement. She’s the only person I know who would ever wear sweatpants with heels. Kiara’s 5’4” and she’s not the biggest fan of her height. She’s been wearing deathtraps as heels since she was fifteen. She’s also my best friend. Her face splits into a grin when she notices me, and I immediately rush toward her, pulling her into a hug.
“Oh my god, you’re here!” I squeal, squeezing the life out of her.
“Lena,” she chokes out. “Can’t breathe.”
I laugh before letting go and getting a good look at her. With her pin-straight long black hair, smooth mahogany skin, and brown eyes that are currently hidden behind the enormous sunglasses she’s wearing, my best friend is one of the most beautiful women I know. And I haven’t seen her in two years.
“I missed you like crazy,” I say on a soft breath.
