The following days had been a blur. Father had come and gone. So had a lot of men I hadn’t recognized. We’d moved two weeks later to a massive house with a big fence. It was an absurd compound in an obscenely nice part of the city, and I hadn’t understood how we could afford it until I spoke with one of Father’s men. He’d explained what had happened. He’d told me the Falsones were dead, and the Balestras had taken over.
I’d cried so hard I’d thrown up in my bed.
The water stopped.
“Mal, please. I’m sorry. You can’t carry this alone.”
The shower curtain flew open.
I stared at him. Water dripped from his muscular body. I caught a glimpse of his cock, long and thick, and the chiseled V that led down between his legs, and his stomach, pitted with ugly, jagged scars and curling black tattoos, and his chest, with that old knotted scar beneath his collarbone, and his eyes, God, his eyes, dripping with scorn and laced with hate. His teeth were bared and clenched.
“I heard you moved to Monte Vista.”
I stepped back, staring into those eyes.
He despised me.
He thought I’d been involved.
The idea hit me like a kick to the teeth.
And my anger rose like bile in my throat.
“My father moved to Monte Vista, and you know how my father treats me. He dragged me by the hair, kicking and screaming, and gave me a black eye until I shut my mouth. You think I was involved in what happened, don’t you?”
He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. I moved aside as he walked to his room. He rifled through the clothes pile in the corner, found underwear, jeans, and a button-down linen shirt, and got dressed. I watched him, heart racing, halfway attracted to his pristine body, halfway ready to choke him to death for daring to think I’d have anything to do with murdering one of my only friends.
“I think you could’ve done something about it. Warned him or his family. Instead, you got to move on up in the world, huh? But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Mal, you fucking prick. How dare you?”
“You were going to marry him. That was always the deal. Your daddy wanted to put his blood in line for the Falsone family power, so you were going to marry Carmine. But that wasn’t enough, was it? Who you gonna marry now, huh?”
I marched into the room. He didn’t flinch when I slapped him hard across the face. “Fuck you.”
He grabbed my wrist before I could do it again and shoved me back. “You fucked over Carmine and now he’s dead. I’d rather not get involved.”
“You asshole, Mal. You know I’d never hurt Carmine. You know that marriage thing was just—” I waved my hands in the air, so frustrated. “It was our parents playing matchmaker. I never loved Carmine like that and he never loved me.”
“No, he didn’t.” Mal said the words with such venom that it hurt, even if I’d known it was true and never cared. We’d joked about me and Carmine getting married, and had laughed because it was so awkward, but it had never been more than a business arrangement between our parents. I’d never kissed him, and never wanted to. He’d had plenty of other women to keep his attention.
It had never been real, and never would be. Carmine was gone.
“What do you want from me?” I glared at my former friend, wishing I’d never shown my face. “I don’t want to lose you, too. I hate what happened to Carmine. I fucking hate my father for what he did. You know I hate him.”
He softened somewhat at that. “I know you do.”
“What do you want, Mal? What can I do to make it right? I can’t bring Carmine back. What can I do?” Tears rolled down my cheeks. I hated how weak I was.
He stepped forward. I threw up my hands, and he grabbed my wrists, wrenching me sideways. He shoved me down onto his mattress, and I sucked in a shocked breath as he pinned me with his body, his right knee between my legs, his hands holding mine above my head.
I stared into his calm, emotionless eyes and felt a black stab of fear and something else, something sick, roll up my core.
Desire filled me to bursting.
“You want to help me?” He spoke quietly, like he was explaining something simple to a child. I breathed hard. His massive body was inches from mine. He was so warm and so big.
“What do you want?”
He licked his lips. “I want to kill everyone responsible for what happened to Carmine. I started with Dario. I have six more names.”
My mouth opened. I blinked rapidly. I knew who he meant—Dario was one of Placido Falsone’s guys. I’d figured he was dead already.