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“You're tearing this family apart with your selfishness!” Papa’s bark jolts me out of my grief.

I scoff. “Selfishness? Really, Papa? That's rich, coming from you.”

His face turns an impressive shade of purple. “Your cousin Flavia—”

“—is fifteen!” I snap. “Or did you forget that minor detail when you decided to pimp her out to the highest bidder?”

He recoils like I slapped him. I wish I could. Someone needs to.

“You will watch your mouth, young lady.” He points a finger at me, shaking with barely contained rage. “You should be more concerned about the disgusting rumors about you. Rumors that the Antonovs are starting to believe. But no, you'd rather watch your family crumble because you're too stubborn to take a simple test?”

Ah,yes, the test. For the genetic time bomb that might be ticking away in my DNA, the same one that killedMaman. Pain claws its way up my throat, but I swallow it down.

Mamanhad been shipped back to her wealthy brother in Paris the moment her diagnosis came through. The only reason she got proper care was Uncle Jacques’ fortune.

After she died, Papa asked me to return to Chicago. Grief-stricken and blind, I couldn’t see it for what it was—a desperate attempt to cash in on the fifty-percent chance that I might prove useful.

It was the same blindness that kept me from realizing my best friend was screwing Uncle Jacques.

Reese’s smirking face flashes in my mind. I loved that bitch like a sister. I kept all her secrets—even her real name, the one that could get her killed if spoken aloud.

Too bad having a death sentence hanging over you doesn’t stop you from being a backstabbing slut

“Luna Gia Romano!” Papa’s bark snaps me out of my thoughts.

My breath escapes in a tired sigh. “What if I test positive, Papa?”

He shifts awkwardly, the tiniest crack in his polished exterior. “You won’t. You’re my daughter.”

“Oh really? If you’re that certain, why bother testing me at all?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps.

I press on, the heat in my voice rising. “I’ll tell you what happens if I test positive. You’ll find some poor schmuck desperate enough to marry a woman with an expiration date.”

Papa’s face softens, and somehow, that hurts worse than his anger. “Luna,stellina. . . you know that’s not—”

“Save it,” I cut him off, unable to stomach his pity. “I’m not getting tested, and I’m sure as hell not marrying the shriveled Russian prune you’ve lined up.”

He sighs, suddenly looking older. “I thought you didn’t want Flavia to marry him.”

Guilt twists in my gut. Sweet Flavia—barely more than a child. Her parents have no say in this. Papa is the head of the Romano family—what’s left of it, anyway—since Don Vitelli crushed Pascal Romano's rebellion three years ago.

Since then, we’ve lost everything: territory, income streams, even respect in Chicago. Our only chance of survival is an alliance with the Russians. The price? My body. Or Flavia’s. Take your pick.

Screaming would be useless, so I soften my tone, trying to appeal to reason. “Papa, what if we went back to Don Vitelli and offered him a peace deal?”

The name drops into the room like a grenade, but I push forward. “Uncle Pascal’s rebellion nearly destroyed us. Maybe we can salvage something from the wreckage. Why don't you talk to the Don?”

Papa’s face hardens into stone. “Romanos don’t suck up.”

I bite back a bitter laugh.No, we just suck.

Still, I press on. “It wouldn’t be ‘sucking up’ if we brought something to the table. My app.”

Reese and I built Guilty Pleasures in hopes of replacing prostitution rings. At least she let me buy her out after our fallout—now it’s solely mine to use as Romano leverage.

“Papa, I hear Nico Vitelli is willing to listen to any rebelling faction that shows initiative.”