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“Nope,” she says, popping the P resentfully, her lips puckering tightly like she’s holding back a scream. “That’s fine. A pencil portrait will only take an hour. I’ll touch it up later, on my own.”

“Perfect, dear.” My mother winks. “An hour is all we need. Let me give you my number. I’m Gianna, by the way.”

After exchanging numbers and taking our drink orders, Sienna leaves us. I run my hand through my hair in frustration. Mother, on the other hand, looks rather pleased with herself.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I reprimand.

“Why?”

“Did you see the way she was looking at us? She wants nothing to do with the likes of us. But perhaps she’ll pretend to… for the money.”

“You can’t expect her to work for free. Unless you weren’t talking about the portrait?”

“What else would I be talking about? I just don’t want to force someone into a situation they’re uncomfortable with.”

I don’t want to be judged. I don’t want her looking at me like I’m some kind of monster. It doesn’t matter what she thinks of me. At least that’s what I try to tell myself. But it rings false. It rings like a screeching lie.

I care. My mother can plainly see it as well.

Sienna brings our coffees and then picks up empties from another table.

“They should have busboys to do that. They’re running her off her feet,” I grumble.

My mother smirks.

“Don’t look at me like that. Complaining about working conditions isn’t the same as a serenade. I might just buy the place, force them to get their acts together.”

“This is neutral ground,” Adrian jumps in. “Buying the Vine could be seen as a punch in the face to Viktor.”

My cousin seems very concerned about Viktor Barinov.

I watch as Sienna walks around the restaurant, smiling at customers, sharing a few words here and there. She’s doing her job, just like she was with me. I need to stop thinking about her charm, stop looking at the tempting fullness of her plump, round ass.

But I can’t look away when a Russian in a leather jacket and a scar on his forehead walks directly into her path. He waves a hand at her. In Russian, he says, “Silly woman. How did you not see me waving? Don’t you have eyes?”

I sincerely hope Sienna doesn’t speak Russian. I don’t want her to hear how this asshole is talking to her.

He slams a glass down on her tray, then grunts in English, “Beer.”

When he hits her tray, it causes the other glasses to tumble off. They smash loudly against the floor. The Russian walks away without looking back. Sienna, flustered, puts her tray on a nearby table and kneels to pick up the glass.

“Leave it,” Adrian says. “Ignore it, Nico.”

“He’s right,” Mother whispers urgently. “Poor girl, but… Yes. You have to leave?—”

I don’t have to do anything. I’m the Don of this Family.

I march across the restaurant.

ChapterFour

Sienna

I won’t accept responsibility for this one. Maybe, earlier, I could’ve avoided that kid’s toy on the floor. And I possibly could’ve even dodged Nico’s friend, or whoever he is. But this is not my fault.

My head was still reeling from what had just occurred. I never wanted to work for the mob, not after what happened to my mother– not ever. But then Gianna played that slick move. I can’t turn down seven thousand dollars! I don’t have that luxury. But it’s mob money.

I wince as I pick up a large piece of glass, a customer walking by like I’m not even here. Can I justify mob money for rent? Or would I rather be homeless?