Page 4

Of all the fucking reasons Griselda could come up with.

No matter how many times we’d gone over this, she seemed to have amnesia each time she brought it up.

“You broke up with me because I was a bastard son and not the spare heir.”

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Her breath hitched.

“That’s a lie and you know it. I never held it against you.” I shrugged. “Besides, that’s in the past. You were right to break the engagement.”

“My parents?—”

Oh, fuck no were we going to revisit that shit. “Old news. So, what’s the problem now?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re okay if the Rossis form an alliance with Philly?”

“That’s up to Gian.”

Her eyes flashed and she leaned in. “You know what a sadistic bunch of assholes the Philly mob are and with the New York Albanians doing their dirty work, they would make the Rossis look like Boy Scouts.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“That’s why you need to step up and take over from Gian.”

“Not interested.”

“I’m pregnant.”

It was as if Griselda pulled the pin off a fucking grenade and tossed it on my lap. Foreboding prickled the back of my neck. Was it a dud? What damage would the shrapnel cause? I hadn’t decided yet. Griselda and I had a complicated relationship. She was mine once. The doe-eyed, dark-haired beauty of the Scavos, a family that had been linked to the Rossis since the beginning. We’d been engaged at sixteen. She dumped me at eighteen. Love wasn’t even a word I associated with her because I didn’t know its meaning. It was a word a killer like me never entertained, even with Bianca. Fuck the women in my life. I should exile myself to Tibet and become a monk.

She was staring at me like I had the answer to her problem. “Are you sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to show you the pregnancy test? Or…” She smiled slyly. “Accompany me to the doctor?”

“What exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Tell Gian the baby is yours.”

Bianca

I enjoyed traveling in anonymity, but I missed New York. Nico set me up with a fake identity, complete with credit cards and a burner phone. But now I was back to simply being Bianca.

I had come no closer to figuring out a direction in life. Who I was outside my family. I called Mom often just to chat because I felt unmoored on the coast of California. New York had my heart.

I glanced out of Jabbin’ Java into the bustle of Hell’s Kitchen. I’d been back two days and there was still no sign of my shadow. Or maybe he was around—shadowing. Renz said he had barged into the café and demanded to know where I was. But something my brother told him made Sandro back off. Still, I’d received reports of Sandro doing his sneaky stuff inquiring about me. Sandro stalking was a part of our weird relationship. Admittedly, I’d done my share of stalking too, but I hadn’t in the last year. Because my heart was becoming less resilient. Because each time I repaired it, it would get shredded again. Each time I sneaked into Club Aristos to catch a glimpse of Sandro, he disappeared into his office with a woman. Each time I died, because what else would they be doing in there?

Which was exactly why it pissed me off when he scared my boyfriends away in the guise of what was good for me. My pride kept me from storming into his office and doing the same.

So I weaned myself off Sandro, except he kept turning up like a bad penny.

A squeal sounded on my right.

“You’re back!” Ivy shrieked.

She rushed toward me. Behind his wife, my brother Nico followed more leisurely. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited to see me. Nico and I had met up twice in California. I rose to greet them. From the sheen of sweat still coating their skin, I assumed they had just finished sparring at The Grindhouse boxing gym. Ivy’s hair was up in a topknot and she was wearing a white tank and hot-pink track pants. Fashionable as always.

“I’m all sweaty, but you better not care,” she announced before wrapping me in a warm, tight hug. A sting of tears burned my eyes, underscoring how much I missed my family.

“I don’t,” I croaked. “Sorry for missing fashion week. I heard it was another success.”