Page 39 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)
ALISON
Dea Tacita always smelled like sin, booze, and a good time. But the mornings morphed all of it into a ghost of the vibrant energy that flowed through the space every night. Immaculately clean and empty, it was strangely unsettling in its peace.
I marched right through the dance floor, cutting to the back stairs that led to the throne room.
My brother’s office was off limits to most, and even I knew better than to walk in unannounced.
Not entirely true. I knew he hated it, but I did it anyway.
It was my way of humbling the powerful mob boss back into big brother territory by knocking him off his control trip.
I pushed the office door open without knocking. My anger taking the lead, ready to unleash all the betrayal I felt running through my veins.
As I was about to spew the neverending line of cusses trapped in my chest, I stopped short.
Francesca was sitting behind Matt’s desk. Well, more slumped than seated, actually.
With one hand, she rubbed her swollen belly like she was trying to bribe two extra stubborn demons into settling down with sweet words and love.
Her sneakers were kicked off under the desk, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that had surrendered hours ago.
Strands of hair framed her face from all different directions while the hair tie slid down her long, straight mane.
Her cheeks were flushed, her lower lip caught between her teeth in concentration, or maybe irritation. Probably both.
“Oh, fuck me sideways,” she groaned when she looked up, her face lighting up with hope. “Please tell me you brought snacks.”
I stared at her for a second, my anger momentarily disarmed by her presence.
“Nope,” I said, closing the door behind me gently. “Just judgment, sarcasm, and cutting words I need to throw at my brother.”
“Rude,” she muttered. “Come in. Pretend I’m not a beached whale who hasn’t seen her ankles since Tuesday.”
“You’re glowing,” I said, walking around the desk and crouching beside her, holding my hand above her belly and waiting for her to nod her agreement before caressing her baby bump. “Like an exhausted, overworked lava lamp. But glowing.”
She laughed softly. “You know I’m having twins, right? Two. At the same time. Who decided that was a good idea?”
“God. Or Matt. Same difference.”
“Don’t joke. He looks at me like I’m some precious incubator and then panics every time I so much as groan. And have you seen me lately? I can’t even inhale deeply without groaning.”
“Sounds like him.”
Francesca leaned back in the chair, pressing both hands to her stomach. “I’m not ready, Ali. Not for the actual... pushing part. I’ve read things. Horrible things. Do you know what happens to a vagina during birth?”
“I’ve got a vague idea,” I said, standing back up. “But don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?!” She whisper-shouted in disbelief.
“No. Listen to me,” I said, my voice evoking all the encouragement it managed, “Pussies are like transformers.”
Fran arched a brow, the confusion in her features making me laugh. “Come again? Transformers? Is that what you’ve been watching lately?”
How was I going to tell her that the only thing I’d been seeing lately were stars from all the orgasms Max had given me and blood from the way I wanted to rip my brother to shreds?
“Yeah. You think they’re soft little things? Nope. That’s a full-on biological war machine, Fran. She’ll rise to the occasion. Morph into battle mode. Pussymus Prime.”
Fran burst out laughing, crossing her legs and pressing them together. “Don’t make me laugh, I’ll Bumblepee.”
The way I snorted was unreal. For a moment, the weight I carried all the way over eased off my shoulders.
She sighed, her laughter slowly subsiding, letting her head rest against the chair. “You always know what to say.”
“No, I just say it louder than everyone else,” I said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “You’re going to be okay. You’re strong. And soon enough, you’ll have those babies in your arms and wonder how the hell you ever lived without them.”
Her laughter faded into a gentle smile. “Thanks.”
I nodded with a smile of my own, but something inside me compressed again. The peace was fleeting, and I felt it slip away the moment I heard the voices on the other side of the door.
Matt walked in first, his laughter pressing on a nerve that made my eye twitch. Liam followed behind him, and I just knew God had sent him as a buffer.
And I was the storm. The one that didn’t need permission to rage.
Francesca’s eyes darted between us, sensing the shift. “I’ll, uh… let you talk.”
She stood slowly, muttering something about needing to sit on a cooler or a throne of pillows. I kissed her cheek as she passed and whispered, “Pussymus Prime. You’ll be just fine.”
Francesca snorted before whispering back, “Please just remember that I kinda need him alive, okay?” With a light squeeze of my hand, she walked out, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Matt rounded the desk and sat down like he owned the place. Which, in fairness, he did, and I knew this was him being his normal self, but the need to knock that damn crown off his head was almost blinding.
Liam stood near the drink cart, already pouring himself a glass full that he didn’t need.
I knew their drill by now. I was giving off the homicidal vibes, and they were taking their tactical positions.
The Don, all mighty behind his desk as a power play, while the peacemaker stood three big steps away from reaching me if he needed to.
Did they even notice themselves as they did it? Or was it so routined that they just slipped into defense mode as soon as the whiff of danger hit their mafiosi noses?
I crossed my arms, taking my own defensive stance.
“Well?” Matt said, “You look like hell warmed over.”
“And you look like a backstabber in a Brioni suit,” I shot back in anger. “I’m glad we’re both on brand.”
I watched as he leaned back slightly, a muscle twitching on his cheek. “You came here to insult me, or is there something more productive we can do?”
“I don’t know. Have something better to do than chat with me, Matt? Say… Kill Max?”
“WHAT?” He shouted as he moved forward again, his forearms resting on his desk.
“Or maybe you woke up early today and got that out of the way already.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Alison?”
“I heard you. I heard you and Vincenzo at Bella Notte. I either marry him in two weeks, or you kill Max. Those were the choices, right?”
His sigh was inaudible, but I still felt that note hitting me straight in my chest.
“You weren’t supposed to find out like that. I was going to tell you.” His voice had deflated, even if just a bit.
“Find out?” I shouted, my hands darting to my hair in despair. I’d tried calling Max when Diego left, and his phone went straight to voicemail. I never thought that the clock was ticking already and that my brother would be so adamant about following through. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“You just don’t remember, but you were the one who agreed to it. I asked you. I know I was the bastard who put you in that position and let that decision weigh on your shoulders, but you said yes.”
“I’d never say yes to killing Max.”
“Killing Max? Who ever said anything about killing Max?”
My eyes widened. He was talking about the marriage with Vincenzo.
“Why did your brain immediately assume that I agreed to killing Max, and yet you’ve said absolutely nothing about being forced to marry Vincenzo?
” I didn’t even so much as bat an eyelash at that part of the proposition because it was old news to me.
Only Matt didn’t know I had gotten my memory back.
Matt stood back up and slowly sauntered towards me, deep in thought. “What aren’t you telling me, Alison?”
“Why should I be blowing smoke up your ass every time something comes up, and yet you get gatekeeping fucking privileges?”
“You already knew about the marriage, didn’t you? Who told you?” He asked, ignoring my statement.
“I overheard Mom and Dad talking at AD. Oh no, wait! That was when I found out we have a half-sister that you already knew about and decided not to tell us.” I looked over at Liam, his face suddenly diving into the damn glass he nursed, avoiding eye contact with me.
“You, too? You fucking knew, too? Oh my God!” I exhaled, my exasperation and feeling of betrayal clear in those words.
“Don’t change the subject, Alison. One thing at a time. Who told you about the wedding?”
I inhaled, deciding there was no use in trying to keep things hidden anymore. We were not leaving this office with lies on our chest.
“You did, when you asked me at the Ritz.”
“You remember?” It was a half-question, half-fact.
“Yes. I’ve got my full memory back. Some of it is still coming to me in pieces, like the fact that Nonno used to take me to the shooting range and that I’m actually a pretty good shooter.
Or at least, I used to be.” I started unraveling, “I remember the head, Matt, the man’s blue eyes still teary, wide open with shock, and how I couldn’t deal with the feelings and couldn’t speak after.
I’ve always remembered Mom crying after her fights with Dad when you two weren’t at home anymore, but now I can hear him cry, too.
It was always muffled and faint as if he was only allowed to cry into a pillow, too ashamed anyone could hear him.
There was hopelessness in his grief. Like he was trapped in a life he never wanted. ” Like father, like daughter.
My eyes swerved from Liam to Matt, seeing their features covered in guilt, and I knew it was because they weren’t around to carry their share of the load.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Liam said, finally joining us in the middle of the office.
“I didn’t want to bother you. I’m not sure when I blocked it, but at the time, I felt like he regretted us, too.”