My mood hasn’t improved when I reach our building, the reddened brick matching the blood on my knuckle as I shove the double doors open. Rocco glances up from where he’s waiting, his mouth opening.
“Shut up,” I snap, and he closes it again.
For a second.
“What happened?” he asks, following me to the elevator. I slap at the button to take us upstairs to my office, shaking off the agony in my hand. It’s not broken.
But fuck if loving Caterina Corvo hasn’t done a number on me in the last few days. A black eye, a broken nose, a split lip and now a sprained hand to add to the party.
She’s not worth it, I tell myself silently. Ignoring Rocco as we get in and the floor creaks, rising up to the second floor. Even the thought feels wrong.
“Dante,” Rocco presses. “What the fuck, man?”
“Nothing,” I snap. “Nothingyouneed to know about.”
My enforcer just pins me with a look. “Who’d you piss off?”
I grunt as the doors open, heading over and pouring myself a glass of amber from the bar. “Domenico Rossi.”
Rocco barks out a laugh as I throw myself down into the chair. “I hope he looks worse.”
“I wish,” I mutter. “Sit down. You’re making my fucking neck ache looking up at you.”
He takes a seat opposite me. “Ever think it’s time to just move on? Plenty of other girls on campus. She’s fucking toxic, man.”
Not that many, actually. But it doesn’t matter. There could be a thousand girls, a thousand options and the only one I’d see is her.
She’s the only girl I’ve seen since I walked through the gates here at the age of eighteen.
Even then, I could see who she'd become. She stood there, throwing instructions to men twice her age without a qualm, taking charge of the Crows without batting an eyelid. Like she was born to lead.
It took mefive yearsof waiting. Of teasing her out. Slowly, slowly, never making any mention of forever. And then, when I finally had her, she fuckingleftme.
Just disappeared. No response to my messages.
And now she’s back, those walls are ten times harder to scale than before.
Regret weighs heavy in my chest. Regret that we were born on opposite sides, even if everyone talks about the Cosa Nostra as one big family. Turn it over and our world is teeming with disloyalty, betrayal, death.
I would never betray her. But I don’t blame her for believing I would.
Blowing out a breath, I put it out of my head for now. We don’t have the luxury of our own feelings, not when we have business to manage. “Run down.”
To his credit, Rocco doesn’t call me out on my blatant lack of concentration. We discuss the latest intake, who we’ll replace now that some of the older crowd is set to graduate, whatdynamics are working well and where there are tensions among the V’Arezzo group.
“Good,” I say at last. Nothing urgently needs attention. Rocco is an excellent enforcer. I rarely have to get involved with the day-to-day management of the V’Arezzos, instead focusing most of my time outside of the university. The V’Arezzos have a tight hold over the gambling scene of North America, and my father brought me into the business a long time ago, ignoring the guidance that we be kept clear until graduation.
When I check my watch, I dismiss Rocco with a wave. “I’ll be there for dinner.”
His teeth flash. “Make sure you clean up the blood.”
Glancing down to my white shirt, I grimace at the rusty trail. I’ve got a few minutes to make myself presentable. “Thanks for the reminder.”
The call comes through as soon as my laptop is open. Dressed in a fresh crisp white shirt, I sit back in my chair. “Father.”
“Dante.” Frank V’Arezza is still an imposing man, even in his early sixties. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair and smiles, although it seems a little off. The smile slides away as he frowns and leans closer to the screen. “What happened?”
I try not to cringe. “Nothing. Campus politics, but nothing you need to bother with.”
