“Will you take it with me?”
“If you want.”
“I do.”
“Then I will.”
***
A little over twenty years ago, Leonardo Rossi walked into my father’s office, and in tow was his oldest son, Matteo. I’d met the Italian mob boss before and knew he had business with my father, but until then, I’d never met any of his sons. That day, Matteo and I were forced to sit in the waiting room while the adults talked business. We didn’t hit it off immediately. How could we when we had nothing in common?
For one, Matteo was the eldest of four boys and carried the weight of the next don on his shoulders. The future of the Rossi empire fell on his shoulders, and for that reason, he was forced to act older than his age. Me? Well, I was the youngest son of a real estate tycoon. I didn’t have to worry about talking over the family business because I assumed my older brother, Bruno, would inherit most of our father’s business anyway. Hell, one would have thought that Matteo and Bruno would have gotten along—they were the same age and both being groomed to inherit significant power. But they never did.
Our father, Marco, had an unfortunate habit of holding Matteo up as the standard Bruno should aspire to—the discipline, the steadiness, the way he carried himself even as a boy. It created a chip on Bruno’s shoulder where Matteo was concerned that never quite went away. Where Marco saw a model, Bruno saw a rival he could never beat—and never understood why he was expected to.
It’s me who ended up unofficially adopted into the Rossi family, who got along with the Rossi brothers. I was the one who became close enough to the Rossis that my position as Matteo’sconsiglierewas affirmed long before we were adults. Long before he became the don.
The chaos began when our father died before Bruno and I were adults. After his death, my mother was left to handle the businesses, and when it became too much for her, she leaned on Leonardo Rossi for help and, years later, for companionship. As a result, Bruno and I became part of the Rossi clan. For Bruno, this should have been an opportunity. A new start, a new household, a man who might have given him the fatherly approval Marco had always withheld. But Leonardo never quite looked at Bruno the way he looked at his own sons—the warmth was there, but the recognition wasn’t, and Bruno felt the difference acutely. He’d spent his whole life reaching for approval he couldn’t earn, first from Marco, then from Leonardo, and somewhere in that reaching, he lost himself.
The alcohol came first—slowly, then all at once. He changed, became dangerous and volatile before any of us could stop him. All the hate and resentment he carried turned inward until it had nowhere to go, and it came out in the worst possible way—Sofia’s kidnapping and threat of murder. I’m not sure if I believed my brother capable of killing an innocent woman or whether it was an empty threat, but it didn’t matter. The moment he kidnapped Sofia, he was a traitor to the Rossis. His fate should have been death. Except he was my brother, and Matteo was my best friend, so he let me make the call.
Left to Matteo alone, Bruno would have been killed outright. Leonardo would have spared him—for Estella’s sake if nothing else—but this is the fate of everyone who betrays the family, and sentiment doesn’t change that. I couldn’t bring myself to kill my own brother. He was already bleeding from the gunshot wound Matteo had inflicted while rescuing Sofia. I had the men work on him before exiling him from New York City. The last memory I have of Bruno is of him fleeing, broken and bleeding. Hell, I thought of tracking him down and keeping tabson him for the sake of the mother who lost one of her sons, but doing so would be a betrayal of Matteo.
The guilt of having to answer for my brother, no matter how much he deserved it, is a weight I’ve never put down. I can’t erase the look of utter betrayal in his eyes when I was forced to exile him from the city with a promise to kill him if I ever saw him again.
I was his brother, but I was also Matteo’s swornconsigliere.
And now, Bruno and I are in the same city.
When I was in the gift shop buying a deck of cards, I caught a flash of my brother’s face in a crowd, but I convinced myself I was seeing things. But when I went back downstairs after beating Gabriella at blackjack, I saw him, clear as day. Standing with a group of bikers was the brother I was forced to cut ties with. I didn’t want to risk Gabriella and Bruno spotting each other, not before I understood what he was doing here, so I need to leave her in the room again.
But now, I need to find him. There’s no telling how long he’ll be at the hotel or what he’ll do to Matteo’s sister if he finds out she’s in the same place as he is. He must still hold onto some of the resentment. I can’t afford to have him take out his hatred for Matteo on his little sister. No, I have to find Bruno before he finds her.
“Are you going somewhere?” Gabriella asks from where she’s lying in the bed, her droopy eyes tracking my movements as I get dressed. “I thought you were going to take a nap with me.”
“I need to check something with the hotel, and then I’ll be back,” I tell her, buttoning my shirt.
“Do you want me to go with you?” she asks, starting to get up, but I walk to her and ease her back down.
“Tonight is a big night for you. I heard rumors about the exhibition selling out the tickets. You need rest before the show, princess.”
“You won’t be gone long, will you?”
“No,” I say, pressing my lips to her forehead. “I’ll be back before you wake up.”
I stay, watching her long after she’s fallen asleep before forcing myself to leave. Part of me wants to stay, but I need to find Bruno. It can’t be a fucking coincidence that he’s in the same casino on the same fucking weekend as Gabriella Rossi. Is he here to hurt her?
My mind is heavy with thoughts when I finally make it to the casino floor. I don’t find him in the last spot I saw him, so I start with the restaurant. I bump into someone on my way in, and only when they stop, do I realize it’s Gabriella’s professor. He has a stony look on his face that I don’t bother analyzing as I offer him a quick hello, intent on moving on, but he stops me.
“Mr… Nico,” he says, pulling my attention to him. “Do you mind my asking where Gabriella is?”
“Resting,” I say, turning to scan the restaurant for Bruno, but the professor pulls me back.
“She must be nervous about the show tonight,” he says conversationally. “Gabriella is one of the most talented students I’ve ever had—and trust me, I’ve taught many of them.”
Part of me wants to brush past the professor and be on my way, but I can almost hear Gabriella’s voice in my head, pleading with me to play nice. So I flash the man an impatient smile. “She is lucky to have a teacher like you,” I tell him. “She told me thatyou encouraged her to enter the contest, and it’s thanks to you that more people get to see her art.”
He smiles at my words and says something, but my attention is back on the restaurant and its occupants. Bruno is not here. I need to look elsewhere. I thank the professor and leave. My next stop is the bar. I grab a seat when two men vacate, and when the purple-haired bartender finally makes his way to me, I order a beer, then slide him a picture of my brother.