“My father would shit a brick if I selected Daphne,” Brooks said. “Her dad tried to plot his fucking assassination. She shouldn’t even be at Saint Vale. Who gives a shit who her mother is?”
“You could choose her, and no one would know,” Cassian argued. “Nice try, though.”
Brooks scoffed in irritation. “Every move I make is watched, in both public and private. If I want the presidency one day, I don’t get the luxury you Mafia spawns do.” His sluggish gaze bounced between Cassian and me. “We can’t erase bodies and mistakes the way your families can.”
“That’s the plus of having us,” I said. “We’re excellent at cleaning up messes.”
Brooks raised his joint in a silent salute.
We’d all killed. It was mandatory to be a Son.
The difference was why.
Brooks killed because he had to.
Those who came from Mafia families, like me, killed when we were bored or someone pissed us off.
Cassian tossed the empty vodka bottle behind him. It clattered across the floor and rolled under the couch. That reminded me I needed a new glass.
I pushed off the couch to return to the bar and pour myself another bourbon, letting the expensive amber liquid settle in the glass before taking a sip.
Then I turned and headed toward Seraphina.
She scooted over on the couch to make room for me, and I settled on the edge of the cushion beside her.
“You behaving?” I asked her.
My sister was the spitting image of my mother. Black hair and olive skin. A smile that could make both saints and criminals fall in love with her. And they did.
Her hair was braided into two neat French braids, each tiedwith a ridiculous pink bow. The bows made her look younger than she was.
While Seraphina lived a privileged life, being a Mafia princess came with teeth. She was a walking target for every enemy my family had ever made. My father kept her protected at all times. Her dorm was in the restricted wing, and she never left the main building without an escort.
Marriage proposals for her came in faster than a trigger pull. My father rejected every single offer, saying Seraphina was in control of her own future.
I’d told him that was fucking idiotic. An arranged marriage meant leverage, influence, and money. Seraphina slapped me for that comment, right there in my father’s office. He laughed and told me I deserved it. She gave me the silent treatment for a week after that.
That one was way too sensitive for her own good sometimes.
“Always,” she hummed with the innocence of a black swan.
“Who’d you walk here with?” I asked.
“Adelina and Daphne.”
“Good.”
The Secret Service followed Adelina around like dogs, which meant my sister got the same protection. Several of those agents had once been Night Sons themselves, but we didn’t allow them inside the Devil’s Lair. We didn’t want their old asses giving us advice.
Daphne leaned across Seraphina to get my attention. “Enzo, I have a question.”
I ignored her. Daphne could be on fire, and I’d do the same.
She poked my arm. I slapped her hand away like she had rabies.
“Why are you tormenting her new roommate?” Seraphina groaned. “Wasn’t one enough?”
“And who’s her new roommate?” I asked.
