Page 9

Max

“That’s certainly a choice,” Bianca says as I approach them.

My sisters are staring at a new painting in my parents’ hallway.

Nick ended up stealing it from someone’s home while we were collecting a debt.

For some reason, Dad seems unusually fond of it and accepted it as his monthly payment from Nick.

I should have thought to take it myself, but who could have guessed my father would like an abstract painting of a naked woman with a duck’s head, surrounded by balloons.

“It haunts me,” Sofia says. “I really need to find a new place to live.”

Sofia is only a few years younger than me, living at my parents' place since graduating college. She stays busy coaching high school girls' tennis and working as a personal trainer, but I know she's waiting for a marriage arrangement to move on with her life.

“I don’t know. I kind of like it,” I say, approaching them in the hallway. They turn around, surprised to hear my voice.

“Hey Max!” Bianca says.

“Hey. Staying out of trouble?” I ask, giving her a gentle punch on the arm.

“Nope.” She smiles.

“Do you actually like this thing?” Sofia asks, sipping her wine as she turns her attention back to the painting.

“Me? Hell no. I’m just jealous Nick thought to take it. I didn’t think it was worth anything.”

Dad makes his way down the hallway. I was hoping to avoid him and Grandpa after my outburst a few days ago.

“Hey buddy,” he says, though I can tell he wants to discuss something more, just not in front of the girls.

“Dad? What the hell?” Bianca asks, gesturing to the eyesore on the wall.

“What? You don’t like it? I talked to my friend about this piece—he knows a lot about art—and apparently, it’s by an up-and-coming artist from Manhattan. It should appreciate nicely.”

“That’s great if it makes us more money,” Mom shouts from the kitchen. “But I don’t see why it has to be on our wall! You moved the painting of the Holy Mary for that ugly thing!”

I laugh, taking a sip of beer. Mom rarely gets upset, but this duck woman must have pushed her over the edge .

Dad rolls his eyes. “No one in this family appreciates fine art.”

“Massimo!” Mom calls my full name from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, heading towards her as my sisters snicker.

She usually reserves my full name for when I’ve fucked something up.

My older brother gets to be John—though he goes by Jack, since every firstborn son in the family is named John and it gets too confusing.

I thought my name was odd as a kid, but I’ve grown to appreciate it.

Mom’s pulling something out of the oven when she turns to me. “I haven’t had my hug yet.”

“Sorry,” I say, putting an arm around her. “You’ve been so busy in here I didn’t want to interrupt.”

She pulls away, immediately noticing my hands. “What happened to you?” Dad has followed me into the kitchen and she raises her eyebrows at him when I don’t respond quickly. He ignores her, fixating on me while munching pretzels.

“It’s nothing,” I say. “It looks worse than it is.”

She holds up my right hand, noticing the bite mark now that the bandage is off, plus my raw knuckles.

“Did someone bite you?”

“Jenni, stop asking him questions,” Dad says. “I want to eat.”

She rolls her eyes. “You two should be more careful.”

If only she knew what the other two looked like.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I head out of the kitchen, my mother already past my wound. Grandpa enters through the front door. I greet him as usual, but he narrows his eyes and ignores me .

Great—he clearly knows about me beating Jason to death in front of our rich gamblers. It’s going to be a long night.

I focus back on my phone, it's from Savannah.

Hailey and I are out shopping. I think she’s too shy to text you but I’ll send you her number once she shares it with me. ;)

I slide my phone back into my pocket, feeling embarrassed at how much Savannah is trying to play matchmaker.

***

I feel Grandpa’s eyes burning a hole through the back of my head as I toss another log onto the bonfire, watching the sparks fly.

I know he’s angry about what happened, and now that the girls are gone, we're going to have to talk about it.

I can't think of anything to say. I buy some time standing there until Dad returns with a fresh pour of whiskey.

I hear a sigh and the sound of someone settling into a lawn chair behind me. “You going to join us?” Dad asks as I throw one last log in.

I don’t respond, but take a seat in the half-circle.

I’m not used to Grandpa being angry with me.

Unlike my father and apparently me now, my grandfather has always maintained an even temper—or at least, that’s how I’ve known him.

He's pushing eighty, maybe too tired to be angry most of the time.

His mind is still sharp enough for snap decisions, and he retains his mobility, but he lost his spark about ten years ago.

We lost my grandma, and my brother got arrested in a short span.

“What the fuck happened?” he snaps, adjusting his thick glasses.

“I messed up and lost control,” I admit.

“I didn't mean to take it that far, but I was sick of that arrogant bastard acting like he owned the place.” I catch myself raising my voice and glance toward the house, worried my sisters and mom might hear.

“Every girl complained about him at some point. Hailey was the last straw.”

“Hailey? Who’s Hailey?” Grandpa waves dismissively.

“Doesn't matter. Your job is to help keep the peace. Sure, that sometimes means taking people out, but we do it professionally—not savagely in front of our richest players. Do you realize how much revenue we’ll lose because of your outburst? And rich people are harder to make disappear. You better pray his body becomes fish food and doesn’t wash ashore.

” He turns to Dad. “And you? Why didn’t you pull him off sooner? ”

Dad shrugs and takes a sip of his whiskey.

“I know, I know,” I say. “It won’t happen again.”

“If you don’t watch yourself, you’ll end up like your brother,” he warns, pointing at me. “And maybe...” He hisses and sits back, leaving his thought unfinished. But I know what he was going to say: I’m the one who deserves to be locked up, not Jack.

“Do we have to bring that up every single time I fuck something up?” I snap back, my voice tense .

He stays quiet, studying me.

I realize my jaw is clenched tight and force myself to relax. I planned to stay calm during this conversation, but bringing up Jack always puts me in a bad mood.

“I told him and all my guys about the loan, and Sam is taken care of,” Dad says, steering the conversation to another issue and easing the tension.

Grandpa nods, looking at me. “Good. You can cover your share?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know about everyone else though,” Dad adds. “Could get ugly with my crew.”

“Fuck,” Grandpa grumbles, shaking his head. “I should have known better than to take Alexei up on those loans.”

“It was a calculated risk,” Dad defends.

I relax more in my seat, relieved the focus is no longer on me.

“I know that. I just wish I would have found another way. He threatens violence every time I speak with him.” He clears his throat. “I contacted Marco Ferrara to try and set up an arrangement. We need more allies with Alexei acting up.”

I don’t know much about Marco Ferrara other than he’s the most powerful man in Sicily and doesn’t shy away from violence. Killing Sam and Jason in one day doesn’t compare to the pain this man inflicts on those who cross him.

Grandpa pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one up. “Ferrara mentioned a marriage arrangement. ”

My ears perk up. I assume this involves Sofia, and I don’t like it. I want her to marry someone in Chicago or New York, not someone from a violent family across the Atlantic.

Grandpa continues, “Marco has a bastard daughter, Elena Ferrara, who’s still single. If Max agrees to marry her, he’s willing to send men to protect us, along with a generous trade deal.”

“A bastard daughter?” I say, still reeling from realizing this proposal involves me.

“I don’t know much about her mother, only that she’s dead. So Marco must have gotten a random girl knocked up then took her daughter in after she passed.”

“Is this even a good deal if she’s not a true Ferrara?”

Grandpa shrugs. “If he tried to marry a bastard son to one of my granddaughters, I’d have an issue with it. But given what he’s offering, I’m warming up to the idea.” He pauses, staring into the fire. “She’s a beautiful woman, Elena. A few years older, but you wouldn’t guess she’s over thirty.”

I rub my temple, processing everything. Over thirty. I don’t mind dating someone older, but it’s expected to have many children after marriage. If she were younger, I could delay that. But now? I need an heir—that’s not an option. I feel the color drain from my face.

“I thought I’d be matched with someone like five or ten years from now.”

“That was the plan,” Grandpa says. “But this is too much of an opportunity to pass up. ”

Dad clears his throat. “Why don’t you sleep on it? It’s a lot to wrap your head around.”

I nod vacantly, leaving the bonfire. I don’t even know if I said goodbye once I reach my car. Checking my phone, I notice Savannah has sent me Hailey’s contact information.

I curse at the horrible timing. I want to text her, but after that conversation? I should chill out with this obsession over Hailey.

My palms sweat as I stare at the ten-digit number.

I draft and send a text. It’s nothing special—just a hello and checking in on her after the Jason incident.

It’s the professional thing to do.