Page 2

I pulled my leather jacket around me more tightly as I looked down the street. Reaching into my pocket, I dragged out the address my mother had given me. Thinking about her made my stomach tighten into knots, but I swallowed down my unease at leaving her behind. She was right, I had nowhere else to go. My juvie record was as long as my arm, and if they caught me, I'd be locked up until the end of time.

The only thing I could do now was push forward.

A man slammed into me. He didn't even look my way, just skirted around and kept going, his phone pressed against his ear. I glared.

"Fucking asshole."

As I looked around, the pain in my chest grew. I already missed California. The palm trees, the sun, and the smell of the ocean were all gone. No more motorcycle rides to the beach. Instead, I was greeted by a cold, concrete jungle, the smell of food, trash, and weed smoke dizzying my senses. New York was not my world.

I stopped walking when I reached the address on the paper. Every building was a skyscraper, each one taller than the last it seemed. It was so damn high I had to crane my neck to look up at it properly. Damn, this is definitely some rich people shit.

Anger burned the middle of my chest as I continued to take it in. Did my father really live here? Had he been here all this time, living it up, while me and my mother struggled just to eat? I balled my hands into fists and tried not to lose my fucking cool.

I was freezing. Before I even came to this place to meet the man that had abandoned me years before, I had tried to find my own place to live. But even the tiniest, dirtiest hovel was too far out of my price range. I needed that money I had stolen, but Ma was afraid they would know I robbed the bank by the numbers on the bills, even all the way out here in New York. I was fucked. If my father decided to turn his back on me for a second time, I had nowhere else to go.

Throwing my head back and stiffening my shoulders, I resigned right then and there that if he wouldn't help me out, I would tell him what a piece of shit he was. And then? Well, I'd probably smoke my body weight in weed and erase myself from such a shitty fucking world.

I pushed ahead and stepped into the pristine building. Even the air smelled expensive. Frowning, I stalked over to the front desk and waited until it was my turn to speak to the woman behind it. She was young, maybe a little older than me. I checked her out and quickly realized my bitch face wasn't going to do anything here. Instead, as I stepped up to the counter, hands in my pockets, I gave her an appraising gaze before I smiled at her a little.

"How can I help you?" she asked, her smile faltering as she took me in.

Yeah, I stuck out like a sore thumb in this damn lobby. My hair was too long and shaggy, my clothes too old, my sneakers outdated. I was the equivalent of a bum in these people's eyes. But I knew how to play that card too.

"Sorry to bother you," I said softly. "My dad is going to be pissed if he sees me down here like this. I snuck out in my friend's clothes so I could go party last night, you know? Stupid. I should have been back by now, but he's really going to kick my ass if he sees me dressed like this." I leaned over the desk and looked around. "He hasn't been home, right? Vitale?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh… t-that’s your father?"

I clocked the nervousness in her demeanor and quickly realized that my mother was right. Whoever my father really was, he invoked fear in people. I could see it written all over this woman's face. I licked my lips and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Can I go up before I get in trouble?"

Her cheeks pinked, and I smiled at her even more. "Um, I've never seen you around before."

I quickly tried to scrounge up a lie that would work. "Yeah, I've been away. Boarding school, in Italy, you know?" I smiled. "I just got back the other night, but no one's supposed to know I'm here. Can't you let me up? Pretty please?"

She looked panicked as if she didn't know whether or not to believe me. I saw the way her eyes darted around. She wanted to help me, but she was scared too. I searched her face and then her blouse. Her name, Holly, was on display.

"Come on, Holly. Seriously, you know what my dad is like, right? He can be a seriously scary guy. I don't want to get in trouble and neither do you."

That seemed to turn the entire mood into something much more menacing. As she picked up the phone, she fumbled and dropped it on the counter. I watched as her hand fluttered toward it, her bottom lip trembling now.

Jesus. Is my father really that scary?

I'd had to ditch my phone before I got on the bus so I hadn't exactly had time to look up the name. But, apparently, it held more power than I realized. Part of me loved that, the other part was sickened. Who the hell was my father, really? I laid it on thick, flirting with her for the next ten minutes or so until I tried once more to get upstairs.

"I—I'm sure your father would prefer me to call first," she muttered, stumbling over her words.

"No need," a man said as he took the phone from her hand and hung it up. "I'll take care of it, Holly. Forget you saw this."

She blinked up at the man before a sigh of relief fell from her lips. "Okay. Thank you, Mr. Morelli."

He grinned. "Anytime doll." He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Come on."

A sinking feeling filled the pit of my stomach. I glanced back at the girl behind the desk, but she was now actively avoiding my gaze. I pushed off the counter and forced my feet to move in the direction that the man was going. After all, I wouldn't find anything out by standing around in the lobby. However, I was a little concerned I was about to get whacked. That's what they called it, right? Getting whacked?

We headed toward an elevator and stepped inside. I kept my hands firmly tucked into my jacket as I jostled the bag on my shoulder so that it wouldn't hit the ground. The silence was getting to me, it crept up and choked me before I finally glanced to the side and met the man's eyes who shared a ride with me. They were unbelievably dark. Dark and cold.

"You said you're Mr. Vitale's son?" he asked, finally breaking the nauseating quiet.

I nodded. "Yeah. My ma just told me not long ago. Why?"

He stiffened. "And you're sure that he lives here?"

"This is the address she gave me." We fell back into an uncomfortable silence before I couldn't take it anymore. "Look, if I should go, just let me know and I'll run my ass right back to fucking California. I'm not trying to get caught up in the middle of shit."

The man raised a brow. "Feisty, aren't you? Well, you seem to fit right in with the rest of them," he muttered.

I had no idea what that meant, but before I could question him, the elevator dinged and we stepped out onto the top floor. The sound of people talking and laughing, the smell of food, and the atmosphere of peace made me severely uncomfortable. It felt as if I was intruding on something personal.

"You know, on second thought, never mind," I said as I turned to get back into the elevator.

A hand gripped my shoulder and turned me around. There was no question in that grip. The stranger steered me to the door before he called down to the front desk and told them not to allow anyone to leave the penthouse floor. My stomach twisted all over again.

Shit, shit, shit. Are they going to kill me?

"Wait here," the man grunted as he let himself inside. He stopped halfway before he turned to stare at me. "I mean it. Trust me, if I have to hunt you down, you'll be getting waterboarded before the night is over."

I swallowed so hard my throat throbbed. What. The. Fuck?

The man disappeared and I was left to stare at a door. Why did I get the feeling that he had already been watching me since the moment I stepped into the building? My stomach wouldn't stop warning me to get the fuck out of there, but I refused. Somewhere beyond this door was the man that had set me and my mother up for disaster. I had to confront him, even if I died, at least I would get to spit in his face before I went.

I bounced on the balls of my feet. Truth be told, I was too terrified to leave. And pretty terrified to go inside too. As I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my palms and steeled myself, the door suddenly flew open, and I was face-to-face with a room full of people. They all stared at me as if I had two heads. One of them, a guy with long black hair, was holding a knife to another man's neck. He had turtles on his hands and a bunch of rings on his fingers.

"Who the fuck is he, Benito? Answer quickly or lose your life. Or your balls. You can pick," he hissed.

I blinked and took a step back. "You know what? I think this is the wrong door."

"Get in." A guy moved forward with black hair and dark brown eyes. "And shut the door."

I kind of felt like I didn't have a choice. Forcing myself not to tremble, I stepped inside and closed the door after me. As soon as I was secluded with them, I wanted to turn tail and run the hell out of there. But it was too late now.

"Who is he?" the long-haired male asked once more.

"Do you think I fucking know!" the man snapped, looking way too comfortable with the tip of a blade to his jugular.

"I'm Blake," I spoke up, cutting into the insane atmosphere around me. "I'm looking for my dad."

The black-haired male shoved the knife in deeper. "Is this your dad?"

I stared at the man in front of me and pulled a face. No way in hell. He was way too young looking. I mean, yeah, he kind of looked like my father, but there was no way my father still looked so young. I shook my head, trying to remain calm.

"Nah. Unless, you're Cesare?" I asked.

"Cesare. Really?" The man at knifepoint sighed. "Fuck, he's a whore."

“Yeah, we should get him a vasectomy for Father’s Day.” A guy laughed loudly. “You know, if he wasn’t a giant piece of shit.”

I looked around perplexed. "Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" I asked, quickly forgetting my predicament as annoyance filled me. "Where's my father?"

"Not here, kid," the man said as he shoved the other man away with the knife. "I'm Benito Vitale." He frowned. "I guess that would make me your big brother. Except I don't know if I can trust you. What the hell makes you think you're one of us?"

I narrowed my eyes. Who the hell said I wanted to be one of them in the first place? I wanted to tell them all to fuck off, but another part of me really wanted to shove it into their faces that I was exactly who the hell I said I was. Digging into my pocket, I pulled out the lighter that had a giant C engraved into the silver.

"Does this mean anything to any of you?"

"Holy shit!" The guy that suggested a vasectomy appeared closer, a baby in his arms. "You think that old man is still pumping loads into bitches? You gotta be fucking kidding me!"

I blinked at him. "What?"

Benito stepped forward. "Your father is our father," he said as he pointed to three other men. "I'm pretty sure."

My stomach sank. What? He couldn't be serious. When my mother said that these people were my family, I assumed she meant my father, aunts, uncles, grandparents that I had never heard of. Not this. Four men who were my brothers? I felt sick.

"Where is he?" I asked, trying not to heave. "Where the fuck is that bastard?"

"Out of town," Benito said. "But he'll be back soon."

My chest felt as if it was caving in on me. "I can't wait for soon. I-I don't have anywhere to go. I can't just wander the streets waiting for him. Where is he? Where the fuck is he!" I yelled.

I didn't realize tears were pouring down my face until it was too late to stop them. How was it possible that at my age, I was still being betrayed by this man?