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“Then, we’ll have to convince them.”
“How?” Dimitri questions.
“The best way I know how. With violence.”
22
DION
It’s Aria’s engagement party today, and even though I tried to convince myself that I’d be able to handle it, I don’t trust myself not to lose my shit.
But there’s no way I’m telling Evan that he might’ve been right. I can handle it.
I’ve been so preoccupied with coming up with a reason to justify our presence at the party, completely forgetting that I’m going to come face to face with Andrew and Aria.
Aria, who hasn’t spoken to me since I asked her to meet me the other night. She never responded.
Sitting in the confines of my car, my fingers tap anxiously on my phone screen as I stare at the thread of messages I sent to her.
Me: I know where to find you, little liar.
Me: Please give me a sign of life.
I’ve tried giving her space, respecting the boundaries she might need, especially with the engagement looming over us. But something doesn’t feel right.
The only reason I haven’t been pressing her is that I got Xander to virtually plant a tracker on her phone. It gives me some peace of mind knowing she’s safe, though it doesn’t ease the ache in my chest or the questions swirling in my mind. Tonight, I’ll tell her about the plan we’ve set in motion and about the talk with Dimitri.
Despite the uncertainty, one thing remains clear: I miss her. I miss her presence, her warmth, her light that brightens up even the darkest corners of my mind.
I hop out of my car outside Evan’s building, the Saintville, and throw my keys at the attendant.
Angelica will also be there. She and Evander have been getting closer, but she still has no idea who he truly is.
So, in the hopes of not uncovering his revenge plan, we had to come up with an excuse as to why we were attending Aria’s engagement party. Realistically, all Godfathers are to be present, but Angelica doesn’t know that Evan is head of the Vasilakis clan.
We’ve thought of nothing.
Like a pair of bumbling fools, we’re stuck in this situation because we couldn’t think on our feet, and we’ve become the poster children of incompetence. The real Dumb and Dumber.
I walk inside and nod to the concierge. The elevator doors open with a chime, and I step inside, pressing the button for Evan’s penthouse, perched high above the city.
When the doors slide open, I go straight to his living room and pull out a bottle of ouzo from the bar cart.
Evander pops out from the hallway and snickers when he sees me. “I didn’t know it was that kind of night.”
Unamused, I pull two shot glasses from the cabinet and pour our drinks.
“I’ve spent the whole day trying to figure out how to avoid tonight, and the best I could come up with is to get drunk and pretend I was never there,” I say glumly, passing him a shot glass.
We clink the glasses together and shoot the ouzo back, the burn down our throats making us grimace. I grab the bottle and pour some more.
After our second shot, we decide it’s time to go.
When we hop in the elevator, Evan leans against the mirrored walls, his reflection staring back at him with an unreadable expression. I can sense his unease—it matches my own.
“You sure you want to do this?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He nods with a forced smile. “Yeah, let’s just get it over with.”
