Page 3 of Until Death or Defeat

“Gigi, you are one of the most accomplished women I know. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you did it all on your own even though you didn’t have to. You’ve become an incredibly strong and independent woman. Mom would be so proud to see you right now.”

My jaw clenches when he mentions Mom again.

“And where did all that work get me? Now that I won’t be the Head, all I have to look forward to in life is getting to be some man’s trophy to parade around.”

He gives me a displeased look, hating the cynical tone I take whenever I talk about my life. “If you think for a second that all you’ll be to a man is a trophy, you’re wrong. I would never let you marry some tool who thinks of you like that.”

“If you weren’t such a perfect brother, I’d probably hate you,” I say with a loving smile as he puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze.

“Love you too, Gigi,” he says with a wide grin as he lets his arm fall back down to his side.

Why do I struggle to say how I feel, even to my own flesh and blood?

Soon, the hall is full of voices and the sound of drink glasses moving. My anxiety comes in waves as I wait for the night to inevitably progress until finally, my father gets to announce hisjoyousnews.

My eyes flash around looking forhim, but I haven’t seen any of his family yet. Maybe he won’t show?

No, I’m sure he will, because the universe wouldn’t grant me that kind of grace even if I begged it to.

“Don’t let him punk you tonight,” my brother says with a nudge of the shoulder and a smirk, noticing how I was scanning the room.

“I wasn’t looking for him,” I lie. He laughs when he hears the inflection in my voice.

“That guy only fucks with you because you give him the satisfaction. You should just ignore him,” he says, putting his drink up to his mouth.

Easy for him to say; he isn’t the one who has everything to prove.

“Plus, I’m not sure I can guarantee your safety if you stab him again,” he says, laughing as he tries to drink again.

“Jesus, you stab a man once four fucking years ago and no one lets you live it down,” I say with a grin. He chuckles and gives me a disapproving shake of his head.

I know he’s right, but I swore on that day nine years ago that I would never let that man know peace again.

The night draws on, and I find myself sitting alone at a table and enjoying some hors d’oeuvres. The room falls silent when my father clinks his glass to get everyone’s attention, standing at the head of the ballroom by the main staircase with my brother beside him.

“I wanted to take the opportunity tonight to announce something,” he says with a wide smile as he puts his hand on my brother’s shoulder.

“You are all now looking at the new Head of the Santoro Family, my pride and joy,” he squeezes his shoulder tighter as they both give a quick chuckle.

“My son Caesar will be taking over—old men gotta know when to retire!”

The room fills with clapping, laughter, and even some whistling. I feel my stomach drop watching them like this, trying to sneakily run from the room so I don’t have to watch another moment.

I ascend the back spiral staircase leading to the roof, and the door creaks as it closes and slams itself shut loudly as I run through it. Once I finally find the cement ledge and lean over it, I let my tears I’ve been holding back break through. I try to steady my breath and hold my hand to my forehead.

My brother deserves to be happy and successful, he was born to take over,I tell myself over and over in my head.

Once I’ve calmed myself, I shift to stand straighter, turning around to try to regain my confidence to go back down. I look up and am met with my worst nightmare.

Artem. Fucking. Sokolov.

2

Artem

“My my, look who we have here. This feels like a trip down memory lane, doesn’t it?” I say. I toss the whiskey glass I was drinking from off to the side, the glass shattering as it hits the ground.

I take the moment to drink in the sight of her. Her long, auburn brown hair flows in obnoxiously perfect waves down her shoulders, her plush lips are painted red, and her breasts are practically begging to be released from the corset she has them trapped in. Her wet eyes stay locked on mine as she slightly jumps from the sound of the glass breaking, but then regains her fake air of confidence.