I undid the button on my jacket and lowered into the seat, not disturbing my dad, who was talking to someone on the opposite side of the table. Respect for my elders had been drummed into me from a young age, and I knew exactly how to present myself in the right way—in public at least.
A glass with a finger of whisky was placed in front of me—no ice—and although all I wanted to do was take the shot in one, I sipped on it, trying to look as refined as possible.
The string quartet playing and the eyes burning into the side of my face didn’t go unnoticed. “Lorenzo,” a voice to my left said. It was low and deep, a distinct tone that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone but my father.
I turned to face him, my gaze flashing over his strong nose and cut jawline. He may have been sixty-five, but he didn’t look a day over fifty. “Father.” I sat up a little straighter when his deep brown gaze didn’t move off my face.
“How did it go?”
“Good.” My nostrils flared, knowing that when we were home, he’d want to know every single word said in the meeting I’d attended that afternoon—the same meeting I’d been in charge of for two years, and a deal that had only taken place because of me. Yet, my father liked to believe it was because of him that we were currently the only people dealing on this side of the state. But whatever. I wasn’t one who wanted praise. I did my job, and I did it well, no questions asked. I didn’t need praise from my father in the same way my brother, Dante, did.
“As always,” I tacked on to the end.
His brow rose at my comment, but I ignored it, just like I did with most things he did lately.
“Luca,” Ma whispered. “Dance with me.” Dad didn’t look away from me for several seconds, not until he thought whatever he was trying to silently say sunk in, but it didn’t make an inch of difference. He may have been the boss as well as my father, but that didn’t mean I had to be treated like a child. I hadn’t been a child since the first time I’d gotten another person’s blood on my hands.
“Luca,” Ma repeated, only this time she placed her hand over his.
Dad turned to face her, his gaze skimming two of his bodyguards. They weren’t the only two in the room, but they were the only two visible. When you were the Mafia boss, you had enemies in places you didn’t even realize, and Dad had been targeted too many times to count by both the bad guys and the good guys. “Of course, Rosa.” Dad’s lips quirked at the corner, giving Ma the smile that he only ever graced her with.
I looked away and searched the room for something to take my mind off the meeting this afternoon. My contact had tried to skim product off the top of our usual order, and it meant I’d had to take it into my own hands. I sent him and everyone else in his organization a message by cutting off his hand. Criminals in the underground would know who had done it because it was my trademark. Dad had always taught me to create my own path. I smirked as I remembered the screams of pain echoing throughout the warehouse where we’d met. They ricocheted off the walls as I’d sliced at the bone with the knife I always carried. I never knew when I would have to assert my authority, and this afternoon was just another example of that.
“Luca!” Ma screamed, and I jumped out of my seat. “Luca!” she shouted again, and my heart jumped into my throat.
“Ma!” I lunged around the table and to the dance floor where a crowd was gathering, blocking my view. “Move,” I ground out, pushing the members of high society out of the way. They stumbled to the left, making a space for me to slip through.
“Someone help him!” Mom screeched in a tone I’d never heard from her before, and as soon as I looked down at the floor, I understood why. “Call nine one one!”
“Dad.” I fell to my knees, my hands hovering over his body and his pale, sweaty face. He clutched at his chest, his mouth open, but he couldn’t form any words, couldn’t say a single thing. His hand reached for me, his body slow and languid. “Dad.” I tried to keep my emotions at bay, but I had no idea what to do, what to say, or what was happening.
“I’m a doctor,” a voice shouted through the crowd of people. “Let me through.”
“Son,” Dad finally managed to whisper. I leaned closer to his face, trying to make out what he was saying. “Yours,” he stuttered. He groaned in pain as someone slid down next to him, feeling his chest and taking hold of his arm. “It’s all yours now.”
“He’s having a heart attack,” the man who told us he was a doctor said. “Sir, look at me.”
Dad’s gaze attached to mine, refusing to let go. “Rosa,” he whispered, so low only I could hear him.
“Ma,” I called out. “Ma, come here.”
Her sobs mixed in with the words the doctor was saying, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of them because I knew deep down this was it. This was the moment everything would change. This was the moment my life would take a turn I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
This was the moment that would define the rest of my life.
AIDA
I bounced my foot up and down on the floor as I stared at the clock on the wall, wishing the seconds would tick by faster. Friday was always my busiest day of the week because I had three classes and a six-hour shift at the family store. The problem was I had exactly four minutes to make it from my last lecture of the day to the bus stop. The days I didn’t get there in time meant I had to run home to make it to my shift. Those were the days I hated.
“Assignments are due in two weeks. All reference material needs to be inputted correctly and cited on the final page.”
My gaze flicked down to the lecturer for my psych lesson—my least favorite class. There was only one thing I wanted to study at college—music—but apparently, you couldn’t get a degree based on electives, which was why I’d left this class until my second year here.
I sighed and let my head drop back. I wished I’d taken it as a freshman. At least then it would have been out of the way, and I could concentrate on what I loved most. But I’d been too eager my first year of college, too excited that I was even here on a part-scholarship, along with some help from my parents. The workload hadn’t bothered me then, but the longer I attended, the more I felt like it was piling on top of me.
“You may all go,” Mrs. Potts said, waving her hand in the air, then pushing her papers into her quilted tote bag. “Email me if you need any help,” she finished off, and I knew I’d be doing just that. I didn’t want to half-ass anything, which meant I had to fully understand the subject I was doing. Too bad I didn’t understand even a tiny bit of all the theory Mrs. Potts spoke about every week.
Some students rushed out of their seats, ready to get their Friday night started, and others took their time because they had nowhere they needed to be. But I did. I had to make it all the way across town and to the store I’d been working in since before I could remember. A store my ma and dad owned.
When they’d first opened it, it was full of items imported from Italy; things you couldn’t get anywhere else. And although more stores had opened over the years and tried to emulate Ma and Pa, none succeeded in the way they did.