Page 3 of Forbidden Sins
My family is the closest thing that there is to royalty here in New York—albeit criminal royalty. But if there ever was a king, a prince, and a princess, it would be my father, my brother, and me.
At least here in this state. There are plenty of other mafia families as close as Boston or Chicago, and I’m sure a lot of them think just as highly of themselves.
“We should probably loop back,” Sebastian says, glancing at his watch as we come out of the stand of trees. “It’s past breakfast now. If you’re not careful, with all that chaos going on, they’ll forget all about bringing you something.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” I laugh, but I veer back toward the mansion anyway, taking the fork in the path that will lead us on a shorter route back. Part of me would rather have a shower first, after how hot the run was, but I’m starving.
We come in through the back entrance to find the noise in the kitchen somewhat quieted down.
The cook and the other staff barely glance at us—they’re so busy working on the menu for tonight.
I think I catch a glimpse of some kind of birds being taken out of brine, and I wonder what exactly the housekeeper came up with for a party menu.
My father definitely wouldn’t have had a hand in it, and no one asked me.
Yet another reason why it doesn’t really feel like my party. More like a Gallo event, where I’m expected to be in attendance.
“I’m going to go up and shower and change,” Sebastian says, glancing at me. “While you eat. I’ll come find you later, princess.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I shove playfully at his arm, and I could swear that for just a moment, I feel the muscle flex and stiffen under my touch.
The hair on my arm prickles, like an answering charge to a static jolt.
“No one is going to slip in and carry me off while I have breakfast and putter around doing whatever I feel like this morning. Take all the time you need.”
“I like keeping you in my sight.” Sebastian looks at me for a moment, and I feel that prickle again, down the back of my neck and sweeping down my spine in a burst of warmth. “It’s what your father pays me to do, after all.”
The warmth dissipates. I hate being reminded that he’s here because it’s a job, and because he gets a paycheck.
It feels like my best friend is someone my father bought and paid for.
I know it’s irrational, that Sebastian’s feelings for me run deeper than that, just as mine do for him. But still… I hate it.
“I’ll see you later,” I say casually, veering off into the dining room.
Moments after I sit down, a maid sweeps into the room with a tray that has a glass of orange juice, another one of water, and a cup of coffee that I already know will be made exactly how I like it—cold with a generous splash of white mocha raspberry creamer.
“Here you are, Miss,” she says, setting it all down. “I’ll have breakfast right in for you. The cook already has something staying hot, waiting for you to come back in.”
A few minutes later, the maid comes back with another tray—this one with a plate of eggs covered in shredded cheese, green onion, and chili sauce, as well as a side of fruit and blueberry sausages. She sets it down, waits to see if I need anything else, and then vanishes.
I quickly dig in. I’m extra-hungry after the run this morning, and one perk of no one else being at breakfast with me is that no one will say anything about how much I eat.
My father tends to side-eye whatever I put on my plate at meals, clearly worried that I’ll put on weight and become unattractive to whoever he wants to marry me off to.
The amount of time I spend running to stay in shape doesn’t factor in, since he’d rather I not do that at all.
Sometimes, I think he’d rather I sit up in my room like a Victorian waif, drinking tea and nibbling at bites of food until he needs me for something. Which isn’t often, since I’m not the heir. Luis is.
“Good morning, 'Stel!” As if summoned by my thoughts, Luis comes hurrying into the room, looking more rushed than usual. He’s wearing black suit trousers and a dark red button-down without a tie, the sleeves rolled up.
His dark hair looks messy, as if he’s been running his fingers through it, and I frown at him.
“You, too? What’s got you running around like crazy this morning?”
“A job.” Luis pauses, catching the look on my face. “Don’t worry, ‘Stel. I’ll be back in time for the party, I promise.” He swoops in, dropping a kiss on my cheek. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“You better be there!” I call out after him as he rushes back out of the room as quickly as he came in, narrowing my eyes after his departing figure.
Other than Sebastian, I’ll only have one other friend at a party that’s meant to be for my birthday.
And honestly, the person I want there most is my brother.
We’re close in age, only a year apart, and our birthdays are only separated by a month.
In a way, I feel like the party should be for him, too, although my father doesn’t celebrate Luis the way he celebrates me.
Men don’t have big birthday parties, as far as he’s concerned.
Luis is supposed to be tough, indestructible, inured to things like birthday parties and affection.
But as far as I’m concerned, that’s bullshit. We might not have loving parents, but Luis and I have always loved each other enough for an entire family. And tonight?
The thing I want most is for my brother to be there to celebrate with me.