Page 2 of Until Death or Defeat

He sees my expression through the rearview mirror and clicks his tongue. “Giselle, no more of that. You will be happy for your brother, you will go in there, and you will smile. Your time to contribute to the Family will come.”

My brows furrow slightly as I look out of the window again, wondering what he could mean by that.

When we finally make it to the country club, my brother goes around to my side of the car to open my door for me and help me out. My father hands the keys to the valet, following far behind us as I wrap my arm around Caesar’s and we make our way through the entrance hall.

“You look great tonight.”

“Thanks,” I say with a forced smile.

“You look more like her every year, you know?”

It’s a compliment, but it stings. I hate being reminded that I lost my mother, as much as I love thinking of her, I can’t stand people pointing out that she isn’t here, and all that’s left of her is our resemblance.

I try to control my breathing as we make our way through the hall to enter the main ballroom, giving polite smiles to random members as we pass.

This is where all the events for the Families are held. My uncle owns this entire country club estate, and it’s been in our family for generations. The Santoros have been settled in NewYork since my great-great-grandfather moved here from Italy. He quickly became one of New York’s most prominent mob bosses, solidifying the Santoros into the spot right at the top.

It’s all extravagant; the tall, almost Victorian walls and large, glistening chandeliers setting an air of wealth, the kind that feels oppressive rather than inviting.

We walk down the steps arm in arm, and I look out at many of the members of the various Families enjoying cocktail hour.

There are a lot of crime families in New York, and yet they never fail to all show up to these god-awful events regardless of what’s going on in their lives and with their business. This hall is supposed to be a neutral zone, where everyone can freely interact with who they choose to and avoid conflict.

That is obviously not always reality, but for the most part, there aren’t any major issues at these events. Everyone is too busy pretending they’re so happy and perfect to show that they’re holding grudges or envious of anyone else. This is the place where they get to come and smile in everyone’s face, show off their pretty little wives, and hope everyone is watching while they do it.

“I’m getting a drink,” I say as I release my brother’s arm and turn to walk away from him and my father.

As I walk up to the bar, Caesar comes after me. “We should talk, Gigi,” he says as he stands beside me at the bar.

“Not until I get my drink,” I say, shooting him a sideways grin and he returns it.

“Double whiskey and a dirty Shirley Temple,” he says, turning to the bartender and holding out a hundred-dollar bill, “and whatever else the lady asks for tonight.”

I really do love my brother, despite how much I truly believe he can’t be the head of the Family. He’s soft, and I’m worried it’s going to get him hurt one day. But he’s the onlyperson who ever runs after me when I inevitably close myself off and drift from a group, and I’ll forever be thankful to have someone like that in my life.

Caesar walks close to me, still surveying the room to see who has already made it to the event. His loose, dark brown curls fall on his forehead as he tips his head down to greet someone in passing.

My brother has always been popular, and not just with the ladies. He can go up to anyone and talk about anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was being interrogated and ended up being able to charm his way right out of the police station after befriending everyone in sight.

It’s almost diabolical; but I choose to pretend that it’s because he’s a naturally nice person, and not that he does it intentionally.

“Look, I know that you thought this was going to go differently, but you know this is just how it is. Dad knows how amazing you are, and?—”

“Does he? Because he’s never even said that to my face before.”

His expression grows more thoughtful as he takes a breath.

“You know how he is; he hates showing how he feels, he’s just bad with words. He bought you that car after you graduated and got your degree.”

Pfft.

“That’s funny, because he has no problem telling you how great you are all the time,” I say, looking up annoyed at the ceiling. I draw in another breath before I look at him again. “And you know what, it isn’t even your fault—that’s the worst part. I can’t even blame you, because even if I try so hard to be everything I need to be, I would still lose to you in every lifetime because you are just always going to be the person who everyonewantsto choose.”

He looks at me solemnly as I utter my bitter words and put my head down into my palm.

“You know that too, don’t you? I’m just too much for everyone. I get riled up, I don’t listen to anyone, I fight everyone on everything I can at every corner because it’s just who I am, and people can’t stand it. Especially Dad.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you recognize how awful you are then,” he says with a cocky grin. I open my mouth in mock disbelief as I shove him.