Page 23 of All Your Lies (All or Nothing #2)

nineteen

Gage

I take my seat in the front row next to Alexa. From here, I have a clear view of the dock that’s transformed into an aisle, with Vic standing at the end. The grin on his face looks like he won the lotto or some shit.

I glance over at Alexa before placing my hand on her thigh and leaning into her ear.

“You look heavenly today.”

Her surprise gaze drops to my hand before she lies her own atop mine, the sharp points of her crimson claws sinking into my flesh. A clear warning. One I won’t heed.

“Thanks,” she says before removing her hand from mine, which now carries indentions from her nails. She looks down at my hand on her thigh, sighs, and then gazes out at the lake without asking me to remove my hand. As if she knows it’s useless to try.

Ever since we got here, she’s tried to steer clear of me. The bitter taste of her rejection and hatred linger like a phantom pain, a constant ache that fuels my resolve to break through her defenses. I’ve waited years for her, and a little more time, even if it’s agonizing, won’t kill me… much.

“What colors are you going to want for our wedding?” I ask with a smile.

“Black.”

“Black?” I quirk my eyebrow.

“I’ll be in mourning, or maybe it’ll be your funeral. Haven’t decided.” She shrugs.

Just as I’m about to reply, the song changes, and my sister comes into view. She looks beautiful and so happy. At least I got one thing right.

With a radiant smile that illuminates her entire face like sunshine, Rosie approaches Vic, her eyes fixated on his, as if none of us exist.

Will Alexa ever look at me that way? Or will she hate me forever?

I glance over at Alexa; a sweet smile plays on her lips, happy tears glistening in her eyes as she watches Rosie walk down the aisle to the gentle strains of the wedding march.

I hand her the pocket square of my suit. “It’s not going to bite you. Although I think you’d like it,” I say, close to her ear.

With narrowed eyes, she snatches the fabric from my grasp, then turns to watch my sister’s final strides to Vic.

“Damn, baby bro, I’m starting to think she’d prefer me over you.”

I whip my head the other way toward my stupid-ass clone.

“Careful, I’ll slit your throat and console Mom at your funeral with a smile on my face.”

His lips tilt into a smirk while keeping his face forward and holding Mom’s hand. The fucker is good at playing the doting son.

As the ceremony unfolds, Alexa allows my hand to rest on her thigh, unaffected by the small circles I trace with my thumb. It’s a small win.

A short time later, I survey the bustling reception, filled with lively conversations and laughter.

I text Jace, who is the DJ for the night, with my song request. He pulls out his phone and rolls his eyes like a child before changing the song.

I rise from my seat and button my suit jacket before stalking toward her. She’s lingering by the bar, conversing with her friend Jenna, to deliberately keep her distance from me.

“Dance with me,” I say, touching her elbow.

“I’m busy with Jenna.”

“Actually, she’s unbusy,” Jenna says as she pushes her back and into me. “You kids have fun.”

“That’s not a word, and I’m going to kill you,” Alexa tells Jenna as I pull her to the dance floor.

Despite her stiffness, I still pull her into my body. Her arms wind around my neck in an awkward embrace, but I don’t allow that to deter me.

“Relax, it’s just a dance,” I say near her ear before I kiss her neck, eliciting a squeak from her.

As we dance under the twinkling lights, the melodies of one song seamlessly blend into another. I feel her body relax as she finally rests her head against my chest.

I choose to savor the moment in silence and not ruin it by speaking. Our conversations used to be filled with laughter, thoughtful exchanges and genuine connection. I miss that.

But the connection we’ve always shared still lingers, like a familiar melody playing softly in the background. My fuckups have caused it to fracture, but I’ll do whatever it takes to mend it. I just need to create more memories like this with her—to remind her how good we are together.

“May I cut in?” Marco asks from behind me.

I’m going to kill him.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I bark without turning around.

Alexa grows still in my arms and it makes me hate him a little more. He always knows how to ruin a perfect fucking moment.

“It’s fine,” she says, pulling back with a smile and patting my chest as if she’s trying to calm me down.

I grab his arm as he moves between Alexa and me. “If your hands travel anywhere I don’t like, I’ll cut your fingers off with a pair of rusted, dull pliers, then force you to live like that for the rest of your miserable life.”

“Graphic, I dig it. No worries, baby bro,” Marco says before whispering something to Alexa that makes her laugh.

He apparently has a death wish. Why did I decide to wait for his punishment?

Reluctantly, I turn and make my way toward my future father and mother-in-law. I kiss Alexa’s mom on the cheek. “Beautiful as always, Mrs. Rossi.”

“You’re going to make my girl happy, right?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“I will, or die trying.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I’m going to leave you boys and go see your mom,” she says before swaying away. She and my mother have been friends since they were children. They’re both ecstatic about our arrangement. Let’s just hope I can get Alexa to share the same sentiment.

“Why is that slimeball dancing with my daughter?” Mr. Rossi asks while looking over at where Marco and Alexa are dancing.

They’re in deep discussion, and it gnaws on my nerves not to know what they’re talking about.

“I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“You do that,” he says in his no-nonsense tone. “Have all the necessary preparations been made for the wedding and the events that come after? I want to make this transition seamless for her,” he says as he gazes over at Alexa, who’s laughing at something Marco says.

I fucking hate it. Beneath a thin veneer of confidence, my insecurities lurk, ready to pull me under if I’m not careful.

“There has been a challenge to her right. She will need you to protect her.”

“What do you mean?”

“On the night of her attack, she didn’t achieve her first kill. I killed him,” he murmurs.

I glance at Mr. Rossi, absorbing his words in silence.

Before we come of age and assume leadership, we must accomplish a series of tasks. High on the list is a kill.

I too was in disbelief when I got the news of her kill while in prison. Not because she lacks ability, but because her heart is pure.

“Nothing will ever happen to her.”

Mr. Rossi nods.

“Managing both houses won’t be easy for you. I have taught her all that I can, but there is still much more for her to learn.”

“I can handle it.”

“Don’t fuck it up, or I’ll kill you.” I regard him, knowing this isn’t an idle threat. He means every word.

“If I fuck it up, I’ll let you.”

“Good, I’m going to go get his slimy hands off my girl.”

“My girl,” I correct as I watch Mr. Rossi sweep in and take Alexa from Marco.

As I enter my father’s office the following morning, the weight of our last conversation before my incarceration comes rushing back, filling the room with an overwhelming sense of suffocation.

I remember pleading with my father. My voice trembled with fear and uncertainty as I begged him to reconsider his decision to make me turn myself in for a crime I didn’t commit.

Today, only he will be subject to fear or uncertainty.

From afar, I’ve been observing my father since my release. With his gray hair, expanding waistline, and wrinkles, it’s clear that time has left its mark on him.

“Gage,” he says, his voice strained as he struggles to stand.

“You can stay seated. From what I hear, you aren’t doing too well, Hector.”

“Father. I am your father, and you will address me as such.”

“I don’t have a father,” I say, surveying his office.

A heavy silence hangs in the air. When I was a child, I used to fear entering this room. His lessons were brutal, and while the scars are still visible on the outside, the ones on the inside have festered into an unforgiving beast.

“Is there a reason for your unexpected visit?”

“There is,” I say as I grab a glass from his drink cart. Just as I’d been instructed countless times as a child, I pour three fingers of scotch.

I hand him his favorite drink that is now playing a part in his demise. The jaundice of his eyes and skin hints at the severity of his stage-four liver failure. His days are limited in more ways than one.

He examines the warm amber liquid in the glass, spinning it and inhaling the scent before raising it to his lips and shooting it back.

“You see, I started looking into old ledgers from decades ago and discovered things you should have destroyed if you had any fucking sense. Thankfully for me, you don’t.”

I unbutton my suit jacket and take a seat across from him.

“You employed the Demented Devils MC to run guns and blow for years, until you ratted them out to the feds. Landing Vic in jail, the same Vic who just married your only daughter,” I say as I hear footsteps.

Vic comes in the door and closes it silently.

“Then, your precious older son kills someone while drinking and driving, and you pin the crime on me, sending me into the same cell as Vic. Only for me to get out and take over the business you were trying so hard to keep me away from.” I glance over at my father, but he remains silent, his expression unreadable. Figures.

“Way too many coincidences, if you ask me,” Vic says as he makes his way over to us while my father remains silent.

“I thought you’d say nothing. In fact, I expected it from someone as shitty as you are. Shitty father, shitty husband, shitty boss,” I count on my fingers.

“Shitty father-in-law,” Vic says from my side. “Your daughter sends her love, by the way.”

My father narrows his gaze at Vic. “You were never supposed to end up with her. A total waste of a transaction, if you ask me.”