Page 30 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

“Things have been fine with Mom,” Melody says in a rush.

“But?”

“Dad’s been having...” She trails off, flicking her gaze around the room to make sure no one is around. “Friends over.”

Dread drops into the pit of my stomach. “What type of friends?”

Sighing, Melody grabs a glass and fills it with wine. “I think we both know.” She takes a big sip before I wrangle the goblet from her hands. She scowls at me. “I’ll pour another when you leave.”

“You’re not twenty-one yet.”

“You have to let this big brother vibe go.” She means more than me stopping her from drinking. I typically don’t care if she has a beer or a glass of wine, but she’s already been at it. She usually has better control. Her indulgence tonight sets off warning bells.

“What were their names?” I manage through clenched teeth. Anger rattles through me, and I force oxygen into my lungs, refusing to let it get the better of me in front of Cassia and Melody.

“There was Dom, Dante, Enzo, and Nico.” Melody ticks the names off with her fingers, pausing and meeting my gaze with a guarded expression. “And Vito.”

The air I managed to breathe is knocked out of my chest. He’s entertaining the Marinos and the Grecos.

Melody said Mom felt that the trip to the Med would be a great way to get Adalie out of the house.

I don’t pry into Melody’s love life, and I don’t care if she wants to have fun, but there’s only one reason Mom would be more worried about Adalie than Melody.

My sheltered, kind younger sister has something made men covet. Virginity.

As ugly as it is, women in the world Dad has introduced us to are simply tools. Assets you can sell to gain power, or worse, kill to hurt your enemy. My sisters aren’t made for this world. They deserve lavish vacations. Some soft man that would let them walk all over him.

Not a made man.

“Is he broken?” Melody asks Cassia.

Every muscle is coiled tight, and my lungs burn, begging for air, but I’m worried if I breathe, all my rage will come barreling out of me.

Cassia’s touch is too soft. Too gentle. I rip my hand from hers and storm out of the room, hearing my sister’s dramatic sigh and her apology to my wife for my temper.

With fists clenched tight, I go in search of the man responsible for all of this.

Sitting behind the grand mahogany desk in the second floor’s office, Dad barely glances up from the paperwork in front of him when I shove the door open. The handle cracks against the drywall.

I slap my palms on the top of his desk. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

He sighs and sits back. The black eye I gave him has turned a nasty shade of blue. “Look at you,” he says. “All that rage and nowhere to go.”

“I have a wife. Why are the Marinos and Grecos coming over?” It’s a stupid question. We both know why. He’s punishing me for attacking him, using my sisters to get to me because he knows whatever he does to me won’t matter.

Dad glances toward the door. “Melody has a big mouth.”

“Don’t blame her for this. I would have found out, eventually.

” Now the late nights make sense. Dad left me in charge of getting everything together for the merger in four days’ time, a nearly impossible task without burning the midnight oil.

If I had been home, I would have seen who was coming and going.

“How is your wife? I can’t wait to meet her.”

There’s a threat in those words I don’t entertain. If he so much as touches her, he’s dead. The riot of protest in my mind quiets, replaced with the familiar silence that fills my head when I face an opponent in a fight. “If you’re scheming to marry the girls to one of the families?—”

“There’s a cage fight in three weeks. Two million on the line. Win the fight, and your sisters are safe.”

I straighten, jaw grinding. That’s what this was about? Some type of fucked-up manipulation? He knows I’d do anything to protect them, including going back into the ring I swore I was done with. “Do you even care about them?”

How could he not? As annoying as my sisters can be, they’re amazing. I fucking love them. I hate that they don’t have a better dad. That they’re stuck with this piece of shit. I can’t change that, but I can break the cycle. I’ll be a better father, a better husband, a better fucking human.

Smirking, he stands and buttons his suit jacket. “Three weeks. Wolf’s comeback.”

That answer speaks volumes. I lock down my emotions, keeping them from screaming across my face. We’ve only ever been pawns. There’s no love lost between me and him, but my sisters...he’s at least pretended to treat them better.

His eyes are pitch black, soulless, and the violence living within him surfaces with a demented twitch of his lips.

“You’re one of my greatest creations.” The pride in his voice is disgusting.

“We should join the women. Dinner is almost ready.” He edges around the desk, eyes trained on me. “Three weeks.”

“I heard you.”

“We all have to pay our dues,” he says, shrugging like him auctioning my sisters off to the highest bidder isn’t a big deal. I watch him leave, rooting myself to the spot to keep from lunging at him and breaking his neck.

He’ll get the death he deserves soon enough, but I can’t be linked to it in any way.

It has to look like an accident. Then, when I take control of the estate, I’ll find a way to get the mafia to back off.