“You have no fuckin’ idea how happy you’ve made me. Thank you so much. She starts school in about two weeks. Everything will be in order before then. I’ll reach out with more details soon.”
Vanessa lightly claps her hands. “Good. Now that Serafina is taken care of, Zeno, I’m kicking you out—although it’s tempting to allow you to stay and learn something about running an organization.” She tosses him a sarcastic smirk, their cat-and-mouse game unending, even when they’ve finally conceded.
He stands, rolling his eyes, and quickly drops a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be in your room. Find me when you’re finished.”
“Gag.” Anastasia makes a dramatic noise that follows Zeno out, and only when the door is shut does she update us on the brothel business she leads.
Meetings are difficult for me to pay attention to, unless I’m the one giving updates—which I despise. It’s easy to zone out, and normally, I’d reflect on something about my servers or similar, but this time, it’s something else.
Someoneelse.
The sooner I meet this boyfriend, the sooner this nightmare will end.
I swear, peaches and vanilla permeate the air even now.
8
SERAFINA
“Too tight, Madre. I’m basically down the road.”
She unwillingly releases me, resting her hands on my shoulders. “Il tesoro, anywhere that isn’t home is too far away. What will I do, not having you here each day?”
“Breathe easier. Not have to run a marathon to find me,” I joke, earning a dismayed look.
“If anything, I’ll be breathing a whole lot harder in concern.”
While moving away and attending school is exciting, something I’ve been looking forward to every day for the past two weeks, I wasn’t anticipating this part—going from seeing Madre every day to weeks, maybe even months, apart. I ensured most of my nights this past week were spent at home, much to Alessio’s annoyance.
He’s about to get a lot of time with me at school, whereas my relationship with Madre will be forever changed, so he can deal with it.
My entire life has been Madre. Zeno pops in a lot, as does Nero, but for the most part, it’s only us. Now, that’s over. Every shopping trip, every time I came in two minutes past curfew andshe’d bitch, all the nights we’d stay up late munching on cookies and watching old telenovela reruns—life is changing for us both.
“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Madre turned down the offer to see me off at my dorm. While I wouldn’t oppose her tagging along, I’m pleased my goodbye will be done here, in my childhood home, with few people watching. It’s more private this way—moreus.
She throws a faint smile towards Zeno. “This is something you and your brother need to do alone.”
In other words: she doesn’t want to play referee.
“Besides,” a deep voice booms, cutting through the sullen mood, “I was promised fresh bread. Gabriella, if you go with them, I’ll starve.”
Nero presses a kiss to her cheek and winks at me, because we both know what he’s doing. Him remaining behind is to distract Madre, letting her do what she loves most: cook for others.
Once she’s mollified, he brings me in for one of his tight hugs and refuses to let go until my hand taps out against his shoulder. With a playful grin, he bops me on the nose. “Good luck, mini-Mancini. If anyone bothers you, give ’em hell. If you need anyone killed, call me. Day or night, you know I’ll come.”
Madre throws a scandalized glare his way, which makes us both chuckle. He’s joking…but also not. While I’ve never seen Nero in action, he’s as deadly as Zeno.
As Zeno’s best friend, Nero was there for everything surrounding his padre’s death and the war with Ursin Volkov. He’s the only one to visit us, other than Zeno’s Captain, Elio, one of the few who knows we’re out here. He’s basically my second brother, except cooler. When I was twelve, I believed myself to have a crush on him because he’s older, hotter, full of angst. What twelve-year-oldwouldn’tfall madly in love? It lasted a week until I realized he’s a second version of Zeno, and my crush didn’t involve romantic feelings.
“Thanks, Nero. You’ll be my first call.”
Zeno scowls too, slipping between us to steer me away. “There will be no killing required. You’ll have someone with you at all times. But I do agree with giving hell to anyone who pisses you off.”
“Z, only you could chide us for something and then make the same joke about it.”
“Ignore him,” Nero mutters in my ear, catching up to us. “You know I’ll come, no matter who’s assigned as your protection. Also, is there a reason you look so tired? The dark marks beneath your eyes will certainly keep all the boys away, making my life infinitely easier.”
Scowling, I shove into his bicep and roll my eyes, all without answering him—without admitting the dreams that slip in occasionally. Not every night, but certainly more than once since the day Ivan Volkov kidnapped me. Always the same one, too—always with his face, his gross laugh, while I’m tied to the chair. And then, it goes dark, leaving me to question if I live or die until wrenched from sleep.
