“Being a woman in their world, especially an Omega, these men may make you feel like you don’t hold the power. But I promise you, sweet girl, you hold all the power within you. Never feel guilty for using your power to get what you want,” she encourages, raising the cigarette to her lips and walking away, alone, out of the cemetery.
My brother spots me from where he’s speaking to his consigliere before walking in my direction. Anthony and I don’t look that much alike. He took after our pápa with his dark hair and eyes and designating as an Alpha, just as my pàpa was. While I look like our mother did, blonde, bright blue eyes, and an Omega. Beyond our appearance, despite being family, there isn’t a closeness between us. If anything, it feels like we’re worlds apart. I’m not sure if I have our pàpa, or ourselves, to blame, but I know I’m regretting the distance between us at this moment.
Pàpa was my shield, the person who kept me safe. The way Anthony is treating me only proves that I only have myself to rely on moving forward.
“Let’s go,” he demands, grabbing my arm and ushering me towards the sedan so that the funeral procession can begin.
The wake is being held at our home, and at least I’ll have somewhere to hide if—God forbid—I feel a wink of fucking emotion over the passing of our father.
Logan and Niccolo join us in the same sedan, and we sit in silence. My brother is on his phone while I just try to make myself as small as possible, waiting to be released from the overwhelming Alpha scents in the vehicle.
I like Logan’s scent, but my brother smells like bitter herbal tea, and Niccolo smells like coffee beans. Their three scentscombined are enough to make me want to plug my nose. Logan’s hand twitches next to mine, and I wonder if he knows how much I’m struggling to be in this car right now. I want to scream.
“What are my meetings for tomorrow?” Anthony asks casually.
I tighten my lips and look out the window, trying to hold back from crying again. He doesn’t care that Pàpa’s dead, he only cares that he’s in charge of the family now. It’s what he always wanted. Even if he holds resentment for not having control of his life, he’s always wanted to be in charge.
“Lunch at the Wynn with Seamus,” Niccolo replies and clicks through his phone. “Then dinner with Natasha.”
I roll my eyes and pray that he can’t see it in the window’s reflection. Natasha is the Beta daughter of the other major Italian family in Vegas, the Barbieri family. It’s clear that Anthony is only entertaining this relationship with her because he wants to merge the families and have complete control. Then, he only has the Irish and Russians to deal with.
My father has already told him it would be a poor idea, that the Barbieri family probably wants the same thing, to combine our houses and take control. But Anthony, being who he is, didn’t agree.
To be honest, it serves him right, having to spend the rest of his life with someone like Natasha if he goes down that road. She’s spoiled, demanding, and there’s no way my brother would be her only lover.
Part of me wants to ask why he didn’t invite her to the wake, but I keep my mouth shut. It’s not worth a fight right now, and I don’t need another callous person who didn’t give a shit about my pàpa around me right now.
The driver opens the gate to our home, and the procession follows us up the long driveway. After we all park, the driver opens the back door and my brother, Niccolo, and Logan stepout. Logan notably does not help me out of the vehicle with my brother around.
Our home is large, well-secured, and fairly modern. It’s tucked away higher up the mountains for security reasons, but it’s still close enough to old and new Vegas to run operations out of.
The wake is catered, and there are beautiful flowers everywhere. My father would have fuckinghatedit.
Without him here, I realize that no one pays attention to me, and I decide to go to the one place where I can really feel like I’m with him. His office.
It still smells like his Toscanello cigars, and the whiskey glass on his desk is still half full. I run my fingers along the spines of the books on his bookcase, engraving this scent in my memory forever. I’m sure Anthony is going to change everything about this room as soon as he possibly can.
It’s the only room in the house that truly feels like Pàpa, with the old Italian furniture and the custom artwork his sister, Cara, painted before she passed. Maybe Anthony will let me keep those. They were one of my father’s most prized possessions. I round his desk, touching the sterling silver frame that houses a picture of him and me on the day I graduated from surgical tech school. I was the only Omega in the program, and I had a bodyguard accompany me to every class, but it was still a serious accomplishment. I enrolled knowing that I’d never actually work in a real hospital, but mob doctors have a serious issue finding help that they can trust. I’ve learned a lot working under Dr.Conti the last few years, and it’s all because my pàpa believed in me. I don’t know many daughters in the life who have a secondary education or get to actually help in the family business.
There are no photos of Anthony, and it sinks in deeper that his hatred of me is valid. But it wasn’t my fault.
There’s nothing to be done now.
Loud footsteps ricochet down the hall, and I’m not sure why my first instinct is to hide, but I do. Crawling on the floor, my knees protest as I shift my body under the desk. I cover my mouth with my hands, and I’m glad I hid when the office door opens and shuts.
I’d know Anthony’s voice anywhere.
“She’d be perfect for your sons. We can unite our families, and solidify the partnership my father was creating,” Anthony says.
I expect a voice to reply, but there isn’t one.He must be on the phone.
“Thank you for your condolences.” There’s a pause until Anthony speaks again. “You understand that Elena is the only Omega within the families, and she has never gone through a heat with a pack.”
My heart sinks, and I will myself to breathe evenly while making sure my scent doesn’t permeate through my deodorizers. The last thing I need is for him to know I’m here and listening to the whole conversation. I fucking knew this was going to happen, that Anthony would take the first opportunity he could to sell me off. But to talk to a stranger about my heats is disgusting. I feel like property, no better than livestock. It sinks in that I mean nothing to him.
“We can arrange a meeting with your sons. If all goes well, she can immediately go to live with you on your estate.”
Another long pause as my heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest and stomped on by my brother.
