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“Fuck you.”
Exactly the type of first tattoo ragey, punk-ass teenage boys would get. We were eighteen when we’d gotten them. The same year we became brothers through spilled blood. We’d gotten a lot more ink since then, and we’d spilled a lot more blood.
The three of us never should’ve become close. We were from three different factions, and even with the peace treaty, the Four Families weren’t actually allies. We had hated each other at the beginning of high school, determined to fuck each other over. Of course, infatuation with a girl was the linchpin that brought us together. Then she became the pawn our fathers dangled above our heads. They thought that by breaking the girl, they’d break our bond. Instead, the fire forged us into something stronger.
Now we’d be the Four Families’ demise.
Kenji’s smooth voice pulled me from my walk down memory lane. “Our fuckin’ fathers and brothers were invited to your little party too.”
I let out a disgruntled huff.
“It’s really too bad we have to keep them around. All of them in one place…seems like the perfect setting for mass murder,” I said, scratching at the stubble on my chin. “But unfortunately, that’s not an option. We need them where they are. Plus, they won’t show up. They’ll probably send pawns to come observe.”
I didn’t think any of the crime leaders were smart. They just had no one to challenge them. But that was all about to change, and the assholes weren’t ready.
CHAPTER 7
SCAR
WRAP YOUR HAND AROUND MY THROAT, BIG BOY
Sickly sweet vanilla coated the air, mixing with so many aerosol hair products that it surprised me NOAA hadn’t barged in here to shut us down. Clothing was strewn everywhere, and makeup products stained the pristine white bedding of the room they’d taken over.
This was hell on earth.
I shook my head at the mess my grown-ass cousins had caused. They were so damned spoiled that they never considered having fucking respect for other people’s things.
“No, Milania, you can’t wear that to my party. Daddy already gave you an engagement party. You’re not wearing white to mine,” Adriana whined.
I suppressed a groan while my head hit the back of the armchair. Here we went again. Another asinine fight that was completely unnecessary. I should’ve told her that if she was smart, she’d wear black as a sign of mourning. But my cousin was too self-centered to see this wedding for what it was. All that mattered to her was a big rock and the title of tying down the biggest man whore in Manhattan.
“Adriana, that rule only applies to weddings. I can wear whatever the fuck I want, and this dress hugs my ass the way my husband likes.” Milania’s eyes cut over to me in a taunting sneer. “Where’d you get your dress, Scarletta? The bargain bin at Bergdorf Goodman?”
The two of them laughed, as if they’d made the funniest joke in the world, oblivious to the fact that they’d proved how out of touch with reality they were.
“Wow. What a burn.”
My voice was so monotone I could’ve replaced Ben Stein in the Clear Eyes commercials. I didn’t want to be in here right now. When I’d arrived, Enzo popped up out of nowhere, a deep black and blue bruise marring his jaw. The sight made me smile so wide my cheeks hurt. I didn’t even care that he looked at me like he’d kill me. But now I wished he’d taken me out in the foyer instead of telling me I needed to make sure my cousins were ready. All they’d done was argue over dresses for the last fifteen minutes. I needed to get out of here before I ruined the engagement by blowing a hole in Adriana’s head so I wouldn’t have to hear her awful voice.
Champagne bubbles tickled my nose as I downed the liquid. Maybe if I got drunk, I’d like my cousins better. Not likely, though.
“Has no one taught you to sip champagne? You guzzle that like barn animals raised you.” My back stiffened at the venom dripping from the newcomer’s tone.
Damn, I hadn’t even heard her come in.
Giana Romano, ex-wife of my dead sperm donor. I hated her almost as much as I hated her brother. A bitter smile appeared on my face before I made my way to the door she was blocking. There was no way I was staying in this room if she was going to be in here.
“No, I didn’t learn anything from barn animals. But my friends on the corner taught me how to deep-throat a champagne bottle. That’s usually my preferred method of drinking bubbly,” I replied, fighting to keep my composure as she turned every shade of red imaginable. It was a shame she’d shot her face up with so much Botox that it didn’t move. I’d have loved to watch her eyes widen and her brows furrow in anger.
“What man wants to wed a whore?” she spat back.
“Hmm,” I mused, looking down at her empty left finger. “Is that why you’re still unwed?” I asked, shouldering past her before she retaliated. I’d pay for those little comments later, but I didn’t give a shit at the moment. Giana had a bite with her bark, but I was a tough bitch.
Music drifted through the penthouse Dominick had rented out for the event. He wouldn’t invite people to his own home, but he still wanted this to feel like a true family dinner. Complete with an enormous table for us all to sit at while we pretended we didn’t want to stab each other. Ironically, this event wasn’t just family. The guest list was a curated selection of politicians and businessmen. Anyone Dominick felt should be present for the announcement of Caleb and Adriana’s union.
There was power in witnesses and deals. The mafioso wanted to ensure enough money and favors were exchanged to keep this engagement between the Italians and the Syndicate from falling apart. The Mafia took part in a lot of white-collar crimes here in New York. Dominick had his dirty fingers in a lot of pies. The Irish operated the same way, at a slightly lower level. But Caleb was their cash cow when it came to business deals, so it would be interesting to see where these allegiances fell.
As much as it pained me to admit, Dominick wasn’t completely stupid. He knew those boys needed this alliance as much as he did. Backing from him would help sway some of these people to stick with Caleb and cut ties with the mob. On the surface, this was a you scratch my back, and I scratch yours agreement.
