“Dad threatened to kill her.”
“So what? If he’d wanted her dead, she would have been. Why’d she stay away for twenty-five years? He’s been gone for two and a half years now. Why wait so long to come to us?”
“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it.”
He’s still defending her. My rage is boiling up, eating me from the inside. The G-Wagon finally starts to move again, threading through the stop-and-go traffic, which is probably a good thing, because I was about to claw my way out of hereand start stalking down the street. I feel like I could tear the buildings apart with my bare hands, brick by brick.
“I’ll tell you why,” I bite out. “She needs some fucking money, that’s why. Now she wants to come back into our lives like Mother Teresa and claim she had to abandon us or she’d be dead. Fuck that. She’s not getting a cent from any of us.”
“She didn’t ask me for money.”
“Yeah.” I laugh bitterly. “She only turned up yesterday. Give her some time.”
Lucky sighs. “Are you coming to my place or not?”
“On my way,” I tell him, and then I end the call.
By the time I get to Lucky’s apartment, I’m all but crawling out of my skin. I pass the guards on the ground floor with a nod and take the elevator to the top floor. Lucky’s near the club district because that’s where he does most of his business. His building isn’t as chic as Priest’s, but it’s on par with the buildings Scorpion and I make our homes in when we’re in the city. I punch in the code that takes me to his floor, where another guard greets me.
Lucky opens the door like he’s been watching me on the cameras, and knowing him, he probably has.
“Frattore mio.” We clasp hands and do a half hug, slapping each other on the back.
“Brother.” If my voice is curt, it’s because I’m still pissed off by his take on the whole Antonella situation.
“Come in.”
I step into his place, the door closing behind us, and am instantly aware of the presence of two women with long, dark hair and the same bright-blue eyes my brothers and I all have. They come from our mother’s side.
I can see the resemblance instantly. Not just to us, but to Antonella. And there’s something else, too. They also remind me of Luna. Which is weird, even if it tracks with the other part ofthe claim Antonella made, that she had an affair with Tomasso Revello, got pregnant with the twins, and had to leave so our father wouldn’t kill her for betraying him.
I didn’t tell Isla about that just yet because I’m not sure if it’s true. It could be a claim Antonella is making because she knows Priest is married to Luna. It could be an angle she’s trying to use against us. I have zero reason to trust the woman, now or in the future. Actions speak louder than words, and she made her choice a long fucking time ago.
Butfuck. There’s no denying it. My half sisters have Luna’s smile.
“Saint, meet our sisters,” Lucky says. “Bianca and Camilla. Girls, this is Saint.”
“Hey,” they say in unison, looking as nonplussed as I feel at this odd family reunion.
Even their voices sound similar.
“Identical twins,” I guess.
“Not that identical,” one says, and I’m not sure if it’s Bianca or Camilla. “But technically, yes. This bitch has been all up in my space since utero.”
I was so overwhelmed when I walked in that I didn’t pay attention to which one Lucky was pointing at when, so I have no clue if it’s Bianca or Camilla with the sense of humor.
“I’m the smart one,” says the other twin, grinning.
And holy shit. The shock I’ve been avoiding ever since yesterday finally hits me like a bullet. These are mysisters. Sisters I’ve spent my entire life not knowing I had. They’re my blood.
“Remind me who is who again,” I say.
“I’m Bianca,” says the one who proclaimed herself the smart one.
“And I’m Camilla,” says the other.
Got it. Camilla is taller, wearing a dress. Bianca is wearing jeans and a sweater and is shorter by about a good inch. They do look distinctly different, now that I’ve had a minute to study them. They both have Antonella’s nose.Mynose.
