I swirl the glass in my hand but don’t drink. I’ve been nursing this same whiskey for almost an hour.
I close my eyes and listen to my surroundings—the quiet clink of glass against glass, the low thrum of jazz weaving through the room, the hush of whispers and secrets too expensive for daylight.
This is where the city’s real power gathers. Not in boardrooms or courtrooms, but in dimly lit sanctuaries like this—places where silence is currency, and betrayal is only ever a drink away.
I lean back, eyes flicking to my second as he reads through the contract we secured a few hours ago. His jaw is tight, and the grip on his whiskey glass is even tighter. His hazel gaze moves over the paper, and I catch the small smile curving his lips.
Valerio Antonelli—my most trusted soldier, and my most lethal weapon.
Our fathers bled together. Built this empire from ash and shadow. When my father died, I didn’t just inherit his title; I inherited his war and every mistake that came with it. And Valerio? He stayed at my side through all of it.
“Why do you look like someone pissed in your drink? You just secured one of the most lucrative deals in syndicate history, and you’re over here… moping.” Valerio places the document down and looks at me.
He lifts his whiskey, takes a sip, hisses, then goes in for another, clearly savoring the well-aged burn.
“Don’t act as if you don’t like coming here.” I sip my own whiskey. “You’re more of a regular than I am.”
I never liked this place much before my father’s passing. But now, I feel a strange connection to the old man—crazy as that sounds.
Sion is a gentlemen’s club for the rich and elite. There’s an extensive application process, and most get denied no matter how many zeroes sit in their bank accounts. It isn’t about money here. It’s about something money can’t buy—prestige… power.
Valerio and I are legacies. Our fathers were members, and that gave us a foot in the door when we came of age.
“I love Sion.” He looks around the dimly lit lounge. “But I’d prefer if some women were walking around.”
Valerio’s the ultimate womanizer. I’ve never seen him fall for a woman, only hunt for the next one to take home.
“Alright, enough. What’s actually going on with you?” He downs the rest of his drink and slams the crystal tumbler on the table. “In fact, you’ve been distracted for weeks. Forgetful. Sometimes you need reminding of basic things. What’s going on, Matteo?”
I shrug. “A lot has been on my mind, I guess.”
He studies me for a moment. I keep my gaze locked on the glass, drawing circles along the rim. I think of how her eyes match the whiskey sitting at the bottom.
“If you’re going to be prissy after a day like today, I’m leaving you and going to the strip club.” He practically sulks like a toddler. “Maybe some ass and tits will lift my mood.”
I roll my eyes and ignore the dig. I couldn’t care less about strip clubs, parties, or any of the things I used to enjoy in my former years. Burying my father changed my perspective on everything.
“Don’t tell me it’s the girl on the rooftop?”
When I sip my drink and don’t answer, he rolls his eyes. I curse the day I told him about that encounter.
“Come on, Matteo. You’re still thinking about her? A month later?”
I say nothing.
“You don’t even know her name.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You’re the young heir to a powerful syndicate. You could have any woman you want. Why pine after a woman who was suicidal? Sounds more like trouble than peace.”
“I’m not pining.”
“Oh really? Then what is all this?” He gestures to me. “You’re moping over her and you just signed a ten-figure deal. You’re either insane or you hit your head somewhere.”
“The woman was suicidal,” he repeats slowly, like he wants the words to stick.
I shake my head. “She didn’t want to jump. I know the difference—hers was the look of someone running from something.”
And ever since, that look has been welded beneath my ribs.
A moment of silence settles between us.
