My head tilts as I glance down the table. Luciano is watching us, his wine glass tilted as he lounges back in his chair.
“Perhaps I am.” The words slip out, aiming to wound, to push him away. “But you’re not the only pretty heir at this table.”
The barb lands. Dante’s eyes narrow, and he steps even further into me. “Don’t push me on this, Cat.”
Scoffing, I shove past him. “Little boys and their toys. You’re all the fucking same.”
He doesn’t follow me, but a hand reaches out, curling around my wrist as I pass Luciano. “For what it’s worth, I offer myself for your pleasure anytime, little crow.”
I curve my hand around his own wrist, yanking it back until he snarls. My smile is sweet as fucking cotton candy. “Pleasure comes in many forms, Morelli. For me, at least. But maybe not for you.”
He doesn’t pull away from my grip, leaning into it instead until I’m forced to decide between releasing him and breaking the bone. He spots the hesitation and grins.
“Like you’d want to permanently damage this face.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I mutter. Dropping his wrist, I stalk from the head table, passing the Crows on my way out. Dom half-rises from his seat, but I shake my head.
I’m done for the day. Done with politics, and men who think they know everything.
As I walk past the Fusco table, the tension is bleeding into the air. Pausing, I scan until I reach Leo, Giovanni’s enforcer and leader of the Fusco group in Gio’s absence. His eyes are vacant, but he turns when someone taps his arm to get his attention as I move up to them.
“I’m sorry about Nicoletta,” I say to him directly.
He was close to the Fusco sisters. Closer still to Nicoletta, if the rumors were right. And it seems like they were, because his empty face twists into a snarl, grief and anger leaking in. “I don’t want your sympathy,crow.”
The vehement words take me aback, the tone of his voice bitter. Resentful. And the faces around him are the same, all focused on me with what feels like full-on hatred.
This… this is more than rivalry. Much more than the tenuous push-and-pull, the balance I normally see from them.
“Nevertheless,” I say quietly but firmly. My eyes scan the table. Several faces drop, but more still meet my look with their own eyes burning. “You have it.”
The whispers start back up, sweeping the dining hall as I spin, not waiting for a response before I leave. But the anger on his face stays with me as I head back to my apartment under the darkening sky, making sure to check the locks several times before pulling out my phone.
I need to speak to my father, but the voicemail kicks in, again. The generic message ends with a beep, and I take a breath.
“Papa, I need to speak with you urgently. Call me back.”
I need you to tell me we weren’t involved in the murder of Nicoletta Fusco.
Because if the suspicion twisting my stomach is correct, then everything changes. Rules have been broken. The Fuscos will demand vengeance. And I’m here, playing the game blindfolded with one hand tied behind my fucking back.
Chapter five Caterina
My heels press into the cream carpet again, leaving little grooves in their wake. The floor is littered with them, hundreds of little pieces of evidence of my own unease as I pace up and down. My phone is dark in my hand. No response.
The unspoken message is clear. My father isn’t going to give me anything more than the carefully veiled words he said to me earlier. For now, at least.
I only stop when the knock comes from the door. The familiarrat-a tat-tatjogs my memory, and I glance through the peephole before pulling it open.
Amie holds up the jug. “Homemade!”
When I blink at her, she lowers it and grimaces. “Youalreadyforgot? We organized this literally two hours ago.”
When I sigh and stand back, she dances past me, pacing the jug down with a flourish on my polished glass coffee table. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”
Her shoulders slump, and I immediately feel guilty. As the only genuine friend I’ve managed to make over the last twenty years, thanks to my father’s politics, I should really make more of an effort for Amie. She’s the only small slice of normality I get.
Kicking off my heels, I let my feet sink into the carpet as she heads into my kitchenette, digging around in cupboards.
