Page 137

Story: Sinful Ruin

Best friends.

Have always stuck together.

I’m just as hurt he wasn’t there.

Antonio clears his throat, the cords showing in his neck. “Did you?”

I shake my head. “I’ve tried calling the bastard for days, and he’s not answering my calls. I have his money.”

“Fuck!” Antonio slams his hand against the table.

“One of his men told me he’s dying of cancer,” I say, failing to add that it was one of his menI killed.

Damien’s nostrils flare. “If that’s the case, then Dima is either in charge or will be soon.”

I clench my fist and jaw at the thought.

“You’ve thoroughly fucked us,” Antonio says, aiming his finger in my direction. “I was already pissed you’d signed a contract with another family without my knowledge, and nowthis.” He looks over at Damien. “This is a goddamn problem. You know that is against the rules as it is, but since he’s your brother, I allowed it to slide. But now, he’s putting us in fucking waragain.”

This is what I’ve always hated about Mafia families.

The higher-ups want you to do every-fucking-thing for them.

I’m fucking sick and tired of it.

I shove my chair to the side and point at him how he just did me. “You want to talk about war?” I raise my voice so loud that it hurts my lungs as I speak. “How manywarshave I fought for you? I was there when your uncle wanted to kill you, to take your fucking throne. I had the chance to choose his side, but I choseyours, killing some of my own friends who had chosen the opposite. Hell, we fucking killed Emilio’s dad!” I dash across mydesk, growing closer to them, and slam my fist against my chest. “I went to war because you had fallen in love with a fucking Marchetti and kidnapped her. I think I’ve gone to war for a lot of reckless shit for you, and I will gladly go to war for my wife.” I signal toward him and Damien. “With or without you guys.”

“Well, shit,” Damien says, whistling as Antonio walks to the bar.

Antonio grabs a glass and fills it with whiskey. “Let’s get ready for war then, shall we, gentlemen?” He raises his glass, a deadly smirk on his face. “It’s been a while since I’ve had free rein to kill motherfuckers. I’ve missed it.”

As if Yaroslavcould sense trouble, he calls me twenty minutes after Damien and Antonio leave.

“It’s about fucking time,” I say, answering his call.

“I was in the hospital.” His voice sounds raspy and tired. “I instructed Dima to get in touch with you, but he got busy. He said you married the woman, but I’ve yet to see the money in my bank account. That’s a problem, Bellini.”

“I have your money and can transfer it to you now.”

“No, I want cash, like last time. I don’t deal with bank-account bullshit. Too many Feds always lurking around.”

“Fine. Cash it is.”

“I can’t meet today. Tomorrow. One o’clock. Same place we met last time.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be fucking late.” I end the call.

39

Pregnant.

I stare at the pregnancy test.

It’s my third one.

All of them have said the same.

I rub my stomach, stare into the mirror, and softly smile.