Page 6 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

Adalie, at least, has sense enough to set her wineglass down and shoot me an apologetic grin.

Her eyes are hazel, leaning more gray than blue most days, just like our mom’s.

She also has Mom’s rich brunette hair, but there’s no mistaking that Adalie and Melody are related.

They have the same nose, eyes, and lips.

They could be twins, and they almost are at only a year apart.

“Don’t let him stop you, Adalie,” Melody says. “Mace was sneaking me beers when I was nineteen.”

“Snitch,” I grumble, scooping up Adalie’s wine and downing it. “Besides, you’re supposed to be better than me.”

Melody scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please, we all know I’m the degenerate here.”

Hardly. Melody is doing everything according to plan.

It’ll be interesting to see how she handles the arranged marriage my dad is no doubt scheming.

I’ve gone out of my way to ruin the various arrangements he’s tried to force on me, because they only benefit him.

Another power grab. Another alliance made.

Another brick laid on the path to world domination.

“What am I going to be mad about?” I poke Adalie in the side.

She smacks my hand and glares at me. “You’re twenty-seven, act like an adult.”

“He’s practically ancient,” Melody says with a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up,” I tell her, snatching her glass from her hands before she can finish it.

“Hey!” she screeches.

“At least I’m old enough to drink.” I finish her wine, wrinkling my nose as the sickly sweet Moscato assaults my tongue. “This is disgusting. Fucking amateurs. ”

“Ugh, I hate you!”

I smirk. “No you don’t.”

“I wish I did.” Her eyes narrow, then revenge shimmers in them. “Did you hear? Dad is searching for your wife again, and this time, you can’t get out of it.”

Anger bursts through my body. No, there’s no fucking way I’m letting him dictate this part of my life.

I’ve given him everything else and then some.

Grip tightening on the stem of the wineglass, I try to fight the fire of rage rolling over me, to spare my sisters from seeing that, deep down, I have the same affliction as our father.

“Mace?” Adalie whispers. She sounds so little. Scared.

My gaze jumps to her scrunched face. She chews on her cheek and glances at Melody. I look at my other sister, whose face is lined with regret and sadness.

“I’m. I’m so sorry,” Melody says in a rush. “I don’t know why I said it like that.”

The shake in her voice rips me apart. When did my sisters become scared of me? The stem creaks in my hold.

Melody’s eyes dash to it, then back to my face. “Maccon?”

Are you okay?

The question is there. They both see it.

They see the violence that slithers through my veins, the monster I hide behind quick smiles and easy conversation.

The predator that lurks beneath the surface.

Whenever I returned from the cage fights, I would hide the bruises and blood from them because they were so little.

They had no idea that Dad threatened to put them in the ring if I refused to fight.

For the most part, I’ve shielded them from this part of me, and I don’t want them to look at me with fear in their eyes.

“I’m fine.” Placing the wineglass on the table, I stand and walk away.

“Mace!” Melody calls.

“Leave him,” Adalie murmurs. “It’s like when Dad is mad. You can’t reach him.”

It’s like when Dad is mad. Those words slam into me, and I pause at the threshold, one foot in the hallway, the air yanked from my lungs. They say every man becomes their father, but I can’t be like him. I won’t.

My body vibrating, I slowly look at my sisters over my shoulder. Melody’s eyes are rounded, and she wrings her hands in her lap. She’s seen the worst of Dad’s temper a time or two, and while she puts on a tough front, she’s more like Mom than she’ll ever admit. Terrified.

But Adalie? Melody and I made sure Adalie never knew when we were little.

But we’re not always here, are we? Work.

Life. Freedom. It’s all an escape from the wickedness these walls contain.

My presence only makes Dad angrier. I spend most of my time at my own house on the compound.

I thought things were better without me here.

Adalie looks me dead in the eye. She doesn’t even blink. Her eyes drill into me, straight to that vicious part of me I hate so much. She knows. Regret lashes at my back. I should have known she’d find out, eventually.

My chest feels like it’s about to rip in half. It was stupid to think that any of us could be normal. “I love you,” I rasp.

Adalie nods. “I know.”

My attention strays back to Melody. “I’m not mad at you.”

She exhales, and the weight of the world lifts from her shoulders. Her smile wobbles, but it’s better than the petrified expression she was wearing seconds ago. I leave them and go in search of the bastard who thinks he has any right to tell me what to do.

I find him in the study. Lined with walnut paneling and floor-to-ceiling shelves that hold rows and rows of books, this room used to be my favorite.

There’s a grand executive desk on one end of the room, and the other has a fireplace and two forest green leather chairs with a table between them.

A decanter of scotch sits half-empty, and one of the glasses is filled with amber liquid.

Dad’s sitting in front of the fireplace, staring into the crackling flames.

He reaches for the glass. Those fingers that bring so much pain are thick, the wedding band on his left hand is too tight, making the skin bulge.

The ring on his right, the one with the square-cut diamond that leaves a nasty impression, glimmers in dim lighting.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” he grouses.

Grinding my teeth, I stalk into the room and take the seat beside him, pouring myself two fingers of scotch. I can’t bring myself to look at him. “Heard there’s a marriage to discuss.”

His hair is still a light shade of brown, not a gray in sight, but there are wrinkles around his eyes that weren’t there before. The one between his eyebrows is a permanent fixture I’ve mostly learned to heed. Dad chuckles at the bitterness in my voice. “I see your sisters can’t keep a secret.”

I hate that he knows it was them who told me. I have to give him something else to be mad about.

“I don’t want to get married.” At least, not like this. Not with his iron fist forcing me into it.

Dad sighs and glares at me. The blue of his eyes always makes me hate myself.

Adalie might have Mom’s eyes, but I have Dad’s, and I hate seeing the reminder of him every day.

“You’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to abide by the family law.

Everyone gets married and has children. It’s how we ensure the Astor line continues. ”

It’s fucking archaic, but old money plays by old rules. The Astor line is full of wealth. Prestige. Tradition . Every Astor man needs a wife who will bear children.

“I’m not even dating.” I take a sip of the scotch, swallowing the malty sweet liquor. “Where is this wife coming from?”

“I gave you some time to pick, but seeing as you’re not even trying, I have a few contenders. The Whittings are more than willing, the fucking vultures, and Bethany is just as eager to match. Pretty little cunt, too.”

I clench my jaw. Bethany is a whiny, entitled brat. There’s no way she’ll be my wife. “Who else?”

Dad smirks. “Ellen Vorhess.”

Her favorite hobby is tearing people apart. I don’t want to be married to a woman like that.

“Next.”

Dad lists off a few other women I know from various parties and gatherings.

I’m not interested in any of them. None of those women are even remotely appealing.

Icy blue eyes and vibrant red hair flash through my mind.

I quickly snuff that thought. Cassia hates me.

There’s no way she’d consider marrying me, let alone having my children, but fuck, I bet she’d look gorgeous with my baby in her belly.

Really, she’s the only one I’d even consider, and the more I say no to the women Dad suggests, the more his eyes narrow, and the more I hope he forgets it was my sisters who told me.

With a sudden burst of rage, he launches his tumbler into the open fire.

The glass shatters on impact and the flames whoosh .

A wave of heat washes over me as the fire greedily devours the liquor.

My heart slams against my rib cage, but I keep my breathing steady, refusing to give in to the adrenaline that wants me to answer his growing anger with my own.

Like Luca, Dad is a ticking time bomb, and the easiest way to manage him is to keep my emotions out of it.

“Anyone else?”

“No.” Dad pins me with a glare.

I shrug. “Guess we’ll have to keep looking.”

Something dark slithers to the surface, and any semblance of humanity bleeds out of my dad. “That, or I’ll take the Marinos up on their offer to breed the girls. Maybe it’s time to expand the family business.”

Dread sluices through my veins. The threat is an echo of what got me into the cage, only this time, he’s threatening to marry them to a mafioso. To throw them into a world they’re too soft for. A world they’ll never survive.

I shove out of my chair, towering over him. That’s never happening. “No.”

His lip twitches. He has me and he knows it. “You or them, Mace. Do your fucking job, or I’ll sell your sisters to the mafia.”

Red clouds my vision. I grab the collar of his shirt, twisting it in my fist. “You’re a fucking bastard,” I snarl.

Dad simply lifts an eyebrow. “I’ll give you a week to pick someone.

She can be rich. She could be a nobody. I don’t fucking care, so long as she has a hole and can give you babies.

” He rises, bumping into me, but I refuse to back away.

We’re chest to chest, nose to nose. I should smash his fucking face into the mantel.

A flash of lightning cuts through the sky, and a rumble of thunder chases after it as the sky opens and rain pounds the ground.

Dad searches my face. “You’re more like me than you know. We’re predators, you and I, and the world is our prey.”

“I’m nothing like you,” I spit, letting go of his shirt and clenching my fists at my side.

He roughly pats my cheek. I slap his hand away on instinct, and he laughs. “Pick a wife, or your sisters will have to marry one of Marino’s men.”

He knows he has me. I’d do anything to keep my sisters safe.

Including finding a wife.