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"Grandpa." I try to place my hand on his shoulder, but he swings his arm back, slapping me across the face. My cheek stings, and time freezes.

Roman and Joey quickly grab him, restraining his arms as they drag him to the stairs and back up to the apartment.

Tears form in my eyes, and I try to choke them back, and when I look up, I find the eyes of my few customers staring.

I guess the ghosts of my family's history are far from done with me.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Sam

The scent of home-cooked food assaults me when I enter my consigliere's home in the French Quarter. I follow the smell of bubbling red sauce and stewed meats to Adrian's kitchen, shock taking over when I see my blue-haired cousin wearing an apron and rolling out pasta dough.

"Since when do you cook?" I ask Madi.

She blows a strand of hair off her face and presses her palms into the dough, kneading thoroughly before rolling the ball with the palm of her hand and repeating the process. "Don't act so surprised," she grumbles. "I'm a great cook."

At that moment, Adrian walks into the kitchen from the other entrance, pausing when he hears her statement. From behind her, he meets my eyes, shaking his head and causing me to chuckle.

Madi whips her head around at the sound of my laugh, meeting her husband’s face, who’s now acting like he didn't do a thing.

My little cousin, the youngest of all of us, spent her entire childhood trying to avoid being the perfect mafia wife, thwartingevery attempt at teaching her how to cook or keep house. I'm not surprised to hear she's not good at it. I am surprised to see she's trying, though.

Is this what love does to a person?

"I'm sure it's delicious, Mads. You'll have to have me for dinner, hmm?"

"And your new girl?" She pauses her kneading, flour-covered hands coming to her hips.

My eyes move to Adrian, who's now hanging his head. He shouldn't be telling anyone anything that goes on inla famiglia,and that should also mean not telling your wife. I don't have experience in that area, but I imagine that's easier said than done. Especially when you're married to any of the women in my family.

"Don't look at him," Madi adds. "You took her to see Lana."

I give Adrian an easy smile, signaling it's okay, and redirect my attention back to Madi.

"It's not like that."

"You have a woman living in your house, andit's not like that?"She mocks me with a deep voice.

I scrub a hand over my jaw, feeling the tension building there. I don't know how to explain Olivia to Madi.She's just a girl I'm forcing to live with me because she saw me murder our uncle. No big deal.

"Tell me," Madi demands.

Most people don't talk to me like that. Don't make demands of me. Behind her, Adrian winces, clearly uncomfortable with the way his wife is talking to his boss. Even Lana would be more polite when discussing this matter, or any other, with me. But Madi is the baby, and since the day she was born, I've been protective of her. Same with my grandfather. And thus, we've created a brat who can make demands and we'll cave every time.

"She witnessed something she shouldn't have." I settle on a partial truth.

Madi narrows her eyes. "She saw you kill Uncle Damien."

Adrian hisses, "Madi?—"

I wave a hand to silence him. "Yes," I admit.

"Is she going to tell anyone?"

Madi seems unfazed by the death of our uncle. Probably because she didn't like him any more than I did. He's the reason Madi was still forced to marry Adrian even after her brother’s death. No love lost there.

"I don't think so," I answer truthfully.