I cringe and turn back to the mirror. I don’t hate the idea of marriage, but everything in my life has always been so planned and proper that I don’t want my future relationship to be that way, too. I want attraction. Desire. Passion. Love. But sometimes it feels like I’m not even a person to my family. I’m just another Jordan, not a person with her own dreams, but a pawn to be used and manipulated.
Valentina jumps up and goes to the closet, thumbing through the dresses and pulling out a white one, holding it up to herself. “You don’t seem happy.”
I shrug noncommittally. “It just seems kind of…boring, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe a bad boy is more your flavor.” She grins at me and lowers her voice. “And there are none worse than the Latsis boys.”
I nearly choke on my laughter. “Can you imagine?”
She eyes me as she hangs the dress back in the closet. “You haven’t seen them in a long time.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m stuck between my father and my job. Anything else is just wishful thinking,” I say just as the door opens and my mother comes in flanked by two stylists.
Valentina loops her arm with mine and we step to the side, giving them space to set up. In a whisper, she says, “You’re right. It doesn’t matter who he is as long as he gives you happy nights and happy days. Don’t forget, sometimes wishes come true.”
I smile and shake my head at her childish notions, but I can’t help but feel a twinge of excitement, like maybe this party will be more than a nuisance. It’s my first time out since arriving in the States, after all. Maybe, it will be the start of something wonderful.
Chapter Two
Theodore
I bite the cigar between my teeth and scowl at my cousin, who’s reclining lazily in the wingback chair across from me in the Oakwood Club Lounge. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
Mac smiles, and with the black eye he’s sporting, it makes him look roguish and a little crazy. He’s my cousin, and I love him, but he’s always been the one to take things a little too far. The only fights I’ve ever gotten into have been because of him, and unfortunately, because of my loyalty to my family, I don’t think I’ve seen the last.
“With masks on, no one will recognize us.” On the other hand, Mac also knows how to make me laugh. We get into trouble together, and sometimes it’s completely worth it. “It could be fun,” he points out.
And no one will see our wounds. I have a cut over one eye, bruised ribs, and a headache that makes me want to rip my head off my neck and douse it in fire. My day started with a phone call at four o’clock in the morning to deliver bad news and only got worse from there. One of our largest container ships caught fire just off the coast, and I spent most of my day dealing with police and insurance adjusters. Two crewmembers died in the fire, and the Coast Guard is still investigating but is blaming it on undeclared chemical cargo. Which is bullshit.
Unless someone sabotaged us, which is, of course, what my dad and uncle think. And that someone is the rival Jordan family who owns Jordan Marine. This pointless feud dates back to when both families were still in Greece, and even though the original parties are all dead, the current descendants are all too happy to continue the dark legacy.
As evidenced by our lunchtime brawl. The fight was unexpected—I’d escaped from the office long enough to grab lunch with the boys, only to find ourselves squaring off against the Jordan boys outside of Center City. When Mac and Ty Jordan started spewing insults at each other, there was no stopping it. Within a few minutes, blood was shed on both sides. We were lucky to get out of there before the police showed up, but I’m sure I’ll be hearing about it later. It never seems to be enough. I’m tired of the violence, but I don’t know how to stop it.
The door to the Lounge opens and Damien enters, the last to round out our inseparable trio. There used to be more of us in the Oakwood Boys’ inner circle, but our numbers have dwindled recently. We’re missing Losev, who’s busy being a new dad, and Andrej, who’s so far up his girlfriend’s ass trying to make up for years of being a dick that he probably hasn’t seen daylight for months.
Mac greets him jovially and hands him a glass of sambuca on the rocks, our usual drink of choice. Damien takes it, raises the glass toward us, and drinks. The two of them have become friends out of necessity, just by sheer proximity to me. Damien is quiet and sensible, a keeper of the peace. Mac is hot-headed and outgoing, quick to pull a trigger. I’m the glue that holds them together—charming, easygoing, neutral.
“I bet Damien will agree with me,” Mac says.
I chuckle. “I take that bet.” To Damien, I say, “Mac wants to go to the Jordan masquerade tonight.” Mac’s plan to infiltrate the masquerade ball tonight is half-baked at best, dangerous at worst.
Damien’s brow furrows as he, in true Damien fashion, considers all the angles. In the end, though, he’s as loyal to the Latsises as if he were one of us and will always do what’s best for the family.
Since he doesn’t shoot it down immediately, Mac drives home his point. “Not to fight. To gather intel. Your dad wants revenge, and you want proof. If they caused the fire, they’ll be bragging about it tonight.”
“And if they see us there, they’ll kill us,” I add.
Mac laughs. “We’re fast runners.”
“You don’t run from anything,” I remind him. It’s true. Mac is courageous and loyal to a fault; true ride or die. He might be a little rough around the edges, but he would do anything for family.
He tips his glass toward me in acknowledgment and then drains it. A couple years ago, when his mom, my Aunt Andromeda, was killed, he became a little unhinged, refusing to back down from any confrontation with the Jordan crew no matter how dangerous or how many people he puts at risk. But he’s one of us, and we will always protect him and stand beside him.
“We should go,” Damien finally says. “It will get your mind off Rosie.”
I blink at him. With all that happened today with the fire and the fight with the Jordans, I’d practically forgotten about the fact that my on-again off-again girlfriend dumped me again, this time by text, which is a new low, even for her.
Rosie: I can’t be associated with your family drama anymore. We’re over, for good this time.
She and I have been playing this game for the last couple of years. Every few months, she wises up and dumps me for someone more responsible, more ambitious, more boring, and a few months later, comes crawling back. And I put up with it because it’s easy. Because I know who she is and what she wants, and that it will never go any further than it does. I’m over thirty now, and I want to get married someday, but to someone brave, loyal, and passionate, who challenges me and isn’t afraid of a little drama. I’m not sure that a woman like that exists in Oakwood City, though I can’t say I’ve been actively looking.
“That’s right,” Mac says with a nod. “What better way to forget about Rosie than to feast your eyes on new flesh?”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I had no idea you were such a poet.”
“A poet and a lover,” he says, standing with a flourish and brandishing three silver half-masks at us.