Page 39 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

I nod at them, a disturbing chill slipping down my back.

“Do you know why we called you out here?” one of them, Conor, asks me.

“Poker night?” I ask, deadpan.

“Careful, boy. Humor can get you killed.” Carlo stands up and smooths the front of his white shirt. He steps toward me. “You know what else can get you killed?”

“I don’t think you wanna hear another bad joke, so why don’t you just save the drama and tell me?” I say, squaring my shoulders. Fuck them if they think this shit is gonna rattle me.

“The gala attack wasn’t random. It was orchestrated to test your reaction,” Giovanni speaks, his hands folded over his knee.

“Well, I’m still alive, so I gotta believe I passed, yeah?”

“You’re alive, yes. But for how long depends on you, since your loyalty has been called into question,” Carlo says.

“Called into question how?” I demand. “I haven’t gone against the Tribunal. I married O’Callaghan’s daughter, just like you wanted. What the hell makes you think I’m acting against you?”

“We’ve seen evidence of your behavior that leads us to think we can’t trust you, that you’re not of the right caliber to be initiated into the Red Tribunal. And that will be devastating to your family, as you already know the consequences of acting out of line.”

“Why don’t you just tell me something that I can understand?” I say through gritted teeth. “Instead of feeding me a bunch of coded horseshit that doesn’t make any sense.”

“If you want to rule New York City, you need the Tribunal’s backing. You can’t take over your family’s organization without it… without being a member.” Conor steps toward me, his dark eyes beady as black marbles. “And in order to become a member, you’ll need to prove your loyalty to us, Kingston.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “I did what you wanted. I married Livvie O’Callaghan. That was the deal.”

Conor shakes his head, a quiet chuckle shocking the tense air. “That was only the first step in your initiation.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask through gritted teeth. Why the fuck didn’t Dad tell me about any of this? It feels like fucking sabotage, and right now, I’m in the lion’s den with voracious predators who are lookingat me like I’m their next meal.

“There are tasks you need to complete in order to become a full member. We need to know that you are worthy of carrying on our legacy. Loyalty is key. Trust is critical. Your father knows the rules.”

My head spins, trying to make sense of the words being hurled at me. I stare at Conor, the malice glittering in his dark eyes, his stoic, lined face, his tight jaw.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, my heart damn near screeching to a stop when he speaks again.

“You’re going to make a choice, Kingston. Right here, right now. If you want the life we can promise,” Conor says, a chill slicing through me at his sinister tone. “You will bring us a sacrifice. Ordie.”

13

LIVVIE

I hear the door open before I see him and sense the temperature rise the way it always seems to do when Kingston walks into a room.

However, I don’t turn to face him. Rather, I wander to the low dresser along the far wall of our bedroom, my bare feet silent against the floor.

I set my violin case down with a tenderness I reserve for very few things in this world. My fingers linger on the worn leather handle for a moment longer than necessary.

Straightening, I square my shoulders, aware of his gaze drilling into my spine with the same suffocating intensity as a grip on my neck.

When I finally pivot, he’s leaning against the doorframe with an ease that doesn’t match the look in his dark eyes.

My husband stands before me, perfectly composed in slacks and an open-collar dress shirt. Even now the attraction hasn’t worn off, and that angers memore than I care to admit. The man's looks alone are a lethal weapon to slay me with.

Although, right now, staring at me with silent authority, every line of his body says he’s ready for war.

I cross my arms over my chest, lifting my chin in a challenge, daring him to offload whatever bullshit he has on his mind.

The tension stretches long and taut between us, thick enough to wrap around my throat and squeeze. Finally, I grow bored of his stupid game and hack through the silence.