“There’s barely any food in here,” she calls out. “Andwhydo you keep a gun in your cereal cupboard?”
I shrug as she wanders back in with two glasses in her hands. “Easy to reach.”
She gives me the side-eye but doesn’t comment as she digs around in the little bag she’s brought. She pulls out two bottles of wine, three limes and a saltshaker, and I have to laugh. “See? You already knew I wouldn’t have that.”
“I like to be prepared.” She starts setting things up as I duck into the bedroom, shucking off my clothes and replacing them with leggings and a hooded sweatshirt. I take a few minutes to tug out my tight ponytail, massaging my aching skull as I head back to the living room.
Amie bows with a flourish, before she holds out my drink and I take it gratefully. “I needed this.”
“I know.” She lifts her own glass. “To being a badass Corvo heir.”
Scoffing, I clink my glass with hers anyway, taking a few deep gulps that make Amie’s eyes fly up into her hairline. “Woah. Rough day? I know you can hold it, but still.”
We settle back into the couch, and I rest my aching head against the cool, soft brown leather. “You already know. You called for him too.”
“I did.” Her voice is more subdued now. “Was it bad? With Anton?”
Sighing, I study the inside of my glass. “It was… it was what he made it. The only person responsible is him. Just another day.”
Another day, another death to add to the load weighing down my soul.
“I don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t.”
“We do what we must.” Amie isn’t part of the soldier hierarchy. She’ll never know what it feels like to scrub someone’s life-blood from under your nails, to see the swirls of red draining away from your skin as you try to wash the sin away. “It’s not something you need to think about, anyway.”
When she doesn’t respond, I tilt my head, looking towards her. Her brown bobbed hair hides her face as she stares into her own drink. “What is it?”
She clears her throat, cheeks pinking as her shoulders lift in a half-shrug. “Nothing, really. It’s just… they brought Francesca Asante in. New tutor for some of us.”
Frowning, I try to think. Our tutors work in short sprints, representatives called in from each of the five families on a rotating basis to teach us various topics before being replaced. A fair system, to avoid too much favoritism. And at the end of each day, they leave, the gates closing behind them.
Here, we govern ourselves. Our people answer only to us, the five heirs. And we are answerable only to the dons of the five families. A microcosm of the world that waits for us outside these walls.
“I don’t think I know her. What’s the class?”
Amie laughs, but there’s no humor in her voice. “Marriagelessons.”
My margarita lodges in my throat, making me choke. Amie reaches over to thump my back as I splutter. “They what?”
“Apparently, we need to prepare ourselves to be good little wives for our mafia husbands.” Amie’s words are dry, even as she downs the rest of her drink. “That was always the plan, wasn’t it? Soldier or wife. Either way, everyone here has a role to play. And apparently, this is mine.”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter in horror. I couldn’t think of anything worse. Grabbing my phone, I flick through my emails, looking for any changes to my schedule. “I don’t have her.”
“Well, you wouldn’t,” Amie points out. “You’re an heir.”
And thank fuck for that. The idea of some old biddy coming in and telling me all the ways I need to please my future husband is enough to make my bits shrivel up. “But… has anyone mentioned marriage to you? Your father?”
Amie’s dad is my father’s enforcer. Aldo is a mountain of a man, silent and scarred, but I can’t see him forcing Amie into anything.
“It’s been mentioned, but only in terms of future plans.” She half-smiles. “I know my path, Cat. I just hope they pick someone decent.”
If I were thecapo dei capi, ruler of all five families like my father, I’d change that shit in a heartbeat. But my hands are tied. As an heir, I only have limited power until I take over.
I open my mouth to promise that I’ll speak to my father, but the words get stuck in my throat. He’s not even talking to me. And I won’t make promises I can’t keep.
She sees my face. “I know, Cat. I get it. It’s okay.”
It’s not okay, and we both know it. But Amie holds up her glass, and after a moment, I follow her lead.
