Page 43 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)
“Oh, Ali needs to know.”
I was smiling already, and the story was still to be told. Despite Matt’s murderous glower, Liam started talking again.
“So, picture this: you’re five, maybe six.
I’m ten. Matt here is fifteen, king of the world, and very invested in being taken seriously by everyone.
Especially the new girl next door, Giana.
He put on his best leader pants, hair gelled back, looking like he’d just stepped out of Grease.
He had a thing for that movie and couldn’t wait to test out John Travolta’s moves on his unsuspecting victim.
Mid-August, hot as fuck, and mister heir to the power throne struts over to her little lemonade stand and slaps a hundred dollar bill on the counter.
Giana must have been an entrepreneurial mastermind at the time, but that got him six full glasses of lemonade, which, of course, Matteo Battaglia chugged down as if it were nothing.
Only he forgot we were about to leave for church. ”
“You could have helped me drink them,” Matt protested.
“No I couldn’t, because you said, and I quote, ‘You’re not cool enough to be around me.’ So I watched from the porch, not realizing that I was witnessing his demise.”
“His demise? What’s so catastrophic about drinking lemonade?” I asked.
“Absolutely nothing. Unless you’re stuck in a church so hot that it feels like the inner circle of hell when you’re in leather pants a size too small for your big ass.”
“I think she gets the picture,” Matt interrupted, trying to put a stop to the story.
“No, no. Now I wanna know what happened.”
“A flood happened,” Liam replied. “Six glasses of lemonade, sweat, and a pair of leather pants that don’t budge.
Matt comes back from the bathroom, his face red, sweat coming down his temples, and he whispers to me, ‘I can’t take my pants off.
’ I burst out laughing in the middle of mass, and the more he nudged me to stop and cussed under his breath saying that he was gonna pee himself, the louder my giggles became. ”
“Oh my God,” I laughed, imagining Matt’s face at the realization that he was gonna pee his pants at fifteen. “Is this why you don’t like lemonade?”
“It gets worse.”
Matt slapped a hand across his face, letting it slide down before the words burst out of his mouth, “Giana and her parents were sitting next to us, okay? I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and you weren’t helping when you started mimicking the sound of water running, you little fuck.”
Laughter burst from my chest before I could stop it. That ridiculous memory, wedged somewhere between too many years and too much grief, softened the room like nothing else could.
“Needless to say, they had to bleach the benches,” Liam said, laughing out loud while I couldn’t hold back the tears that fell down my face as I pictured the Lord and commander, Matteo Battaglia, peeing his pants in the middle of church.
“Ha-ha, very funny. Revel in my misery, you fucking traitors. I had a rash for weeks after that.” The imagery was too much not to have me gasping for breath in laughter.
“Mom made him walk home, and Giana never looked at him again.”
I walked towards them and looped my arms around Matt’s neck and then Liam’s, pulling them into a hug, my laughter slowly dying down.
“I’m still mad at you. But eventually I’ll forgive you, maybe after a few glasses of lemonade.” I laughed again, softer this time, “No half-truths. No curated realities. I want you to be honest, even if it guts me. Starting now.”
“Your breath stinks,” Liam said, and I instinctively slapped the back of his head.
“Deal?”
“Deal,” They both murmured.
For a few fleeting moments, we weren’t mobsters or criminals. We were just siblings, healing through memories and a proximity I’ve truly missed.
But peace never lasted long.
We pulled back from each other, and my mind was already plotting my next move.
“I want to be the one to talk to Vincenzo,” I said, no room for arguing.
“Okay,” Matt relented with an exhale, “But you’re not going alone.”
I wasn’t pretentious enough to think he’d disregard my safety just because I remembered I could shoot a target and asked for honesty. Even if I said no, there was a hard limit Matt would never cross, and knowing Vincenzo, I wouldn’t ask him to, either.
“Deal. Meet you there in half an hour.”
When I stepped out of the office, I found Max there as predicted.
He was leaning against the wall, waiting. His face was tense, his anxiety showing in the lines that ornated his forehead, his hair messy and wild. His icy glare locked on mine immediately, pleading for me to allow him a minute.
“Alison–”
“No.” I didn’t slow down. I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t process what I was feeling right now, or my strength would be lost to the betrayal he put me through.
“I need to explain. Please. Give me five minutes,” he begged, stepping into my path.
“You had years. Five minutes won’t fix it,” I snapped.
He didn’t move. He was desperate. I could feel it radiating off of him in waves, but I needed him to understand how much he’d hurt me by not trusting me when I gave him every part of me. My truth, my virginity, my fucking heart. He had it all and only gave me a partial truth back.
I pulled out my phone and dialed.
“James?” I said, not breaking eye contact with Max. “Jimmy isn’t feeling too well to pull a double shift, and Max isn’t available. My brother told me to call you to take his place tonight. Be at my apartment at ten.”
“Copy that, Miss Battaglia. I’ll be there.”
I hung up and gave Max one final look.
“Have a good day, Gabriel.”
Then I turned and walked away, not caring that my heart was screaming for me to go back.
Because love wasn’t always enough.
And today, I chose me.