Page 4 of Dirty Mafia King

I sigh. Does she even realize she’s not the only one who’s changed? “Ever wonder what life would be like if Mama hadn’t died?”

Sienna replies without hesitation. “Less chaotic. More stable.Happier.”

Nothing has been the same since our mother’s death. Grief guides our lives now. My sister and I stumble along, tripping and falling until we’re so banged up and numb we reach for any lightness, any shadow, to pull us through. We lost our mother and our security blanket. And every day since is a fight not to lose our souls to our father’s ambitions or our own reckless stupidity.

Guilt washes over me. Sienna may be older by two years, but I’ve always looked out for her. My decision to study abroad shocked her and my father. But I had to get away from the chaos, away from playing sister-keeper to someone whose new self-proclaimed mission in life is to paint every city shades of red. I had to escape Father’s ridiculous demands. There was a life all my own I was eager to discover, far away and free from the drama always encircling my family.

I had to escape, though heartbreak will always accompany me.

I wipe wet fingers across my skirt. “Do you think he loves us?”

Her ice cube falls to the floor. Like my questions knocked it free. Like she feels the same loss, the same desperation.

“Of course he does,” she snaps. A safe answer. Because an honest response might crumble the cage she’s constructed around her heart. She’s locked everyone out, including me.

Daddy Dearest loves three things: money, power, and himself. Deep down, Sienna recognizes it. It’s why she does the crazy shit she does—for attention. Anyone’s attention. And, it appears, she’ll do anything to get it.

I remove the last half-melted cube from the bucket and pass it to her as a peace offering.

“Thanks,” she begrudgingly says.

If anyone discovers what Sienna’s done, it’ll destroy Daddy Dearest’s plans and the remnants of whatever family ties exist.

If she doesn’t want to discuss Father, fine by me. We’ve more pressing business that can’t be ignored.

“What were you thinking?” I softly ask.

“About?” she challenges, as if I don’t know what she’s done.

I shake my head. “If Father’s political rivals find out…”

“You’re always such a scared little bunny.” She glares, then looks away. “I knew you wouldn’t let this slide.”

Lord, she’s selfish, like our father. And drinking out of the same poisoned glass, from a brew that breeds assholery. Still, I try. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She flinches, and then looks three seconds from crying.

“I’m not judging you.”

“Of course you are. You, a timid wallflower who wouldn’t know what to do with a dick even if one hit you in the face. Let me guess, still a virgin, right?” Her sneer echoes around the window alcove as her words cut deep. If there was a medal for judging people, she’d win gold.

How can she not notice I’ve evolved? Or wonder who I am now or what makes me tick? True, I suffer from infinite shyness. Also true, I’ve never had sex. But what’s false is this—if a dick slapped me in the face, I’d know exactly what to do with it. Because I’m drawn to the shadows as much as the light. I’m as wild as she is, I simply don’t act on it in any obvious way.

Obvious being the key word.

“You filmed a sex tape with that criminal Frankie.”

“So what?” she says, defensive.

I stare at her in disbelief. “So what?”

She slides to her feet. “Mind your own business.”

“Look. We crave security after the instability in our lives. It’s natural to be attracted to powerful men.” I gesture to the empty driveway below. “We’re both searching for a protector. But Frankie’s not it.”

“We?” She laughs unpleasantly. “A meek bunny like you would get eaten alive by someone like him.”

“Better a meek bunny than a reckless fool. You made porn with a lowlife mafioso.”