Beautiful Trouble: A Dark Mafia Romance

I closed my eyes. I still remembered the look on Penny’s face: absolutely gutted and destroyed and hollow. She regained some of her light over the years, but was never the same.

“I’m so sorry,” Winter whispered. “That’s horrible. I didn’t realize.”

“Liv is why I will protect my family at all costs. I didn’t know Liv was feeling that way, and if I did, I could’ve helped her. There were so many other options, she didn’t have to do something so extreme. If only I’d thought to ask her, maybe things would be different.”

“You can’t blame yourself. You know that.”

“But we all do anyway. I know Penny does and Erin to some extent. When Liv died, it destroyed our family, and we’re still picking up the pieces.”

“Is that why you can’t let this stuff with Roman go?”

“I lost one sister. I won’t lose another. He’s a threat, and I destroy threats.” But I didn’t feel the same passion anymore. Telling Liv’s story was like clearing a backed-up drain. All my rage slowly filtered away until I was left empty again.

“Roman doesn’t want to hurt your sisters. He doesn’t care about your family at all. You have to realize that.”

“His way of life is a threat to them. He wants the Oligarchs to continue acting like violent, selfish thugs. The only difference between us and the crime families we fund is money and privilege. Otherwise, we’re all a bunch of monsters and killers and thieves.”

“Talk to him. This war might ruin everything. Do you really think killing’s the only way?”

I looked at her and saw so much of Liv in her eyes. They didn’t look alike—but Winter had some of Liv’s spirit, some of that strange, ineffable quality that drew me closer. I wanted to listen to Winter, but most of all, I wanted Winter to listen to me. I wanted her to hear me and affirm my worth as a man and a husband and a brother.

“If I meet with Roman, I won’t give him an inch.”

“You won’t have to. Only be more reasonable with your demands.”

“It won’t end well. You have to know that. It’ll only end in violence.”

“Try, Darren. Try for me.” Winter kissed my neck. “Please.”

I pulled her tight and held her there. I hugged her close and breathed her scent while I closed my eyes and thought of the last time I saw Liv.

We were standing in the kitchen. She was eating a massive slice of pie and I had a Coke. Have fun in New York. In a few months, you’ll be a college girl.

That’s the last thing I ever said to my sister. I wish I’d told her I loved her, because I did, fiercely and unflinchingly. But we never said it out loud.

Strange which details remain and which have faded.

“Call Cassie one more time. Set something up. Tell her we’ll meet on neutral ground.”

“Thank you.” She kissed me one more time and smiled. There was a deep well of sadness in her eyes.

I didn’t want pity. I didn’t need it or deserve it. I’d done horrible things in the name of revenge over the years.

Revenge for my little brother. Revenge for my dead sister.

But now I saw another way.

Winter was the key. Without her, I’d never reach out to Roman.

She was right. Violence could only get me so far.

I just hoped I could keep this rage that’d been burning so bright for so long under control when I was finally face to face with my nemesis and former friend.

29

Winter

Heading out to Ohio was like going to Chicago, except nobody set off bombs in our path. We rolled along through cornfields, past farmhouses, down lonely highways, until the convoy took a bumpy gravel road to a lone barn standing in a sea of wheat.

Darren wasn’t talkative. He hadn’t been since he told me the story about Liv, but I did notice something strange.

He seemed lighter. Like keeping Liv’s death to himself was a burden, and telling me about it somehow made it better.

Not fixed, not gone, but better.

I tried to imagine the amount of hurt he’d gone through. Roman tried to murder his little brother, then his younger sister killed herself. He was the head of an Oligarch family and so much rode on his decisions. The pressure of that was enough to crush anyone—and yet he soldiered onwards.

It explained so much about him. The obsession with keeping his family safe. The violence and ruthlessness. Darren was a broken man, but one that struggled to keep himself together. I wished I could crawl under his skin and understand the twisted thoughts that kept him going at night, but I’d only ever caught glimpses from afar.

I leaned my head back and stared at the roof of the car.

My own life seemed so simple in comparison. I was abused and stalked and gaslit—but at least my mother was alive out in Vegas and still loved me. I hadn’t lost anyone, not really. I was still going.