Page 12 of Bitter Poetry

I swear I will strangle my sister for this.

“Naked twerking,” Dante muses. “I’m confident this conversation would not fall under your mother’s definition of behaving.”

“Are you going to tell on me?” Jessica tosses out like a challenge.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dante says. His eyes slide to me, and he winks before turning back to my sister. “Besides, I’m confident you will out yourself before your mother or father for optimum dramatic effect.”

That wink has me in a flutter. This is the most relaxed I have ever seen him. I only wish it wasn’t my sister’s nonsense that was the cause.

“I made that part up,” Jessica says. “The rest of it is all true.”

My father arrives.

I haven’t had any more than a sip of my juice, but I excuse myself. Jessica follows me. She knows I’m in a mood with her and loves the fallout of her games as much as the game itself.

“Why did you say that?” I demand as the door closes behind us.

“What?” She stops next to me and shrugs. She’s taller than me when I’m wearing flats, and I hate it. “I was just, you know, messing about…” Her expression turns smug. “Also, you know why Christian is never around, don’t you? I can’t believe Nina interrupted us at the worst time. I would have loved to watch Dante squirm answering that question.”

I frown. “What about Christian?”

She grins and starts walking.

“You are such a brat.” I stalk after her. Half the time she makes things up for dramatic effect, as Dante pointed out. But she’s also a shameless snoop.

She stops again, waiting for me, her eyes sparkling because she knows she has reeled me in. “He got kicked out of Redlands for assaulting a teacher.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Whatever. Don’t believe me. I don’t care.”

“No one kicks a Barone out of school, especially Redlands,” I say. “They’re heavy benefactors. Ten years ago they funded a whole new wing. He could burn the building down, and it would be glossed over.”

“Well, it happened. They didn’t even fight the decision, pun intended, so I heard.”

“Where did you even hear this?”

“Papa’s study. His voice was raised. It wasn’t like he was hiding how pissed he was.”

“Jessica,” I hiss. “You shouldn’t use that word. Or go around snooping’!”

She grins. “Mother must be out of the loop on that one. But she never liked Christian. I heard her telling Papa he was a psycho, and we should send him to Italy where they know how to make men. He’s been working for the family for years already. For all we know, he was told to make the hit.”

“Make the hit?” I scoff. “And mother would never use the word ‘psycho’ in any context, ever. Besides, what is he? Seventeen? He can’t have been working for the family for years.”

I’ve not spoken to Christian in several years. Our last interaction was memorable and left blood on my party dress. Still, I thought they would at least have gotten him some decent therapy… Maybe not. “You’re being ridiculous. And making stuff up.”

“Fine. She called him psychotic, which, in regular speak, means psycho. And he has definitely been working with Jero for a while now. You’ll find out soon enough.”

I don’t know a lot about Jero other than he looks like he chews rocks for fun. I’m pretty sure he’s the man they call on when something or someone needs to be dealt with quickly and quietly, no questions asked. Christian is a lot of things, but he doesn’t look like a thug… although I did call him one once.

A sudden clamor erupts in the dining room. The door is flung open. My father storms out, barking orders to the soldier at his side. Dante follows. Another soldier comes up the rear.

The front door opens, and two more armed soldiers pause at the opening.

My father’s eyes slide to the right, where Jessica and I stand. He mutters something in low, rapid Italian that I can’t quite catch to the soldier at his side.

He stops next to us.