Francesca huffed out a little cough, clearly attempting to conceal a low laugh at my expense. Father’s black eyes cut to her, pinning her with disdain. She immediately went still and silent.
“I don’t know why you find his failings so funny,” he drawled. “You were the one responsible for his upbringing for five years. You failed me too, Francesca. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
My sister’s delicate chin dimpled slightly, and her jaw worked as she ground her teeth. She stared straight ahead, refusing to drop her eyes but knowing better than to clash with our father’s reproachful glare.
My grandfather blew out a long sigh, his gray mustache nearly covering his lips on a deep frown. Craggy lines of age and resignation deepened around his eyes and mouth, creasing his leathery skin. “Your bullying is getting tiring, Paul. We all know you’re the head of the family. You don’t have to be a bully to command respect.”
“Don’t give me lectures about respect, old man,” Father barked. “You’re right. I’m the head of this family. You chose to give up. You let prison break you. If you don’t have anything supportive to say, you can run back and hide in your retirement home in Florida.” He sneered the last, concealing his anger with contempt.
He turned his attention back to the matter at hand, his scornful gaze sweeping the entire family where we were seated around the table. Even my sadistic cousins sat up straighter beneath the weight of his glower.
“We’re opening the books in two weeks. Some of you will finally earn your place in this organization. If you want to be more than an errand boy or enforcer, now is the time to prove yourself. We’re rebuilding, and we need more men in our ranks. Those of you who step up will recruit new blood to our family.” He paused and shot me a sneer before continuing. “Those of you who fail me will get left behind. You will lose your place at this table. Am I understood?”
A chorus of yes, sir rumbled around the table, my cousins practically barking the words in their eagerness. Francesca’s lips twisted like she’d bitten something sour. Father had talked about men proving themselves. She wouldn’t be considered for a more powerful position than the tenuous influence she already held. As a woman, she would never be part of the family hierarchy. Not so long as our father was in charge. He was a strict man who fervently believed in tradition. There was no place for Francesca in his organization, save for the minor advisory role he already allowed her.
I would’ve pitied her if she hadn’t made my life hell since I was thirteen years old. She’d served as my guardian in name only, and the only part of her guardianship I’d appreciated was her neglect. It was far preferable to the verbal torment I’d endured.
You’re the reason Mom is dead. You let them murder her. You’re weak. You will never be a real man.
Her words still cut deep. Mostly because I believed they were true.
This was exactly why I had to blackmail Ron Fitzgerald and secure my family’s rise to power once again. I had to prove my worth. I had to atone.
I straightened my spine and dared to meet my father’s contemptuous glare, allowing him to see the strength of my resolve. His thick black brows rose to his salt and pepper hair, but some of the scornful tension around his mouth eased.
I would be a worthy heir. A worthy son. I would earn my redemption, no matter the cost.
ALLIE
I was going to look into the Bratva and prove to myself that there were no ties between the Russian criminal syndicate and my dad. Max would be furious if he knew.
I’m not the only monster out here. How many times had he warned me to stay away from dangerous men like him, men involved in organized crime?
I hadn’t listened to him then. I’d refused to believe that he was a monster, and I’d dismissed the idea that other dangerous men might be monitoring my actions as I delved into my research on the Mafia case that’d decimated his family. I had recklessly dug into their criminal past, and Max’s sister had shown up at my door with their hulking cousins in tow as she issued veiled threats.
I tipped my chin back as I marched toward Mike’s office with renewed resolve. My dad had definitely been involved with the Mafia case, but I already knew that he couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the Bratva. There would be nothing to find, so I wouldn’t be putting myself in danger.
Max’s furious, warning snarl flashed across my mind, his dark eyes burning into my thoughts. My stomach flipped, and my steps faltered slightly.
I straightened my shoulders and shook off the tremor that rolled through me. Max didn’t get to tell me what to do. He wasn’t part of my life anymore. I wasn’t sure if he had actually come to my house to talk last night or if he’d been stalking me again, but his presence outside the wine bar didn’t change anything; we were done. He was the reason I couldn’t sleep at night, haunted by bloody nightmares of my mother’s death. He had hurt me when I’d made myself vulnerable, and I couldn’t forget that.