Page 1 of Illicit Throne

Chapter One: Adriana

The capos would be doing the rounds by the end of the week and I needed to make sure that my accounting matched theirs before they gave my father his dues. That’s why I sat in my small yet cozy apartment, reviewing the day’s earnings and making notes for tomorrow’s orders.

My dedication to our family business was unwavering, even if it meant long hours and constant vigilance. If I had been his son, I would’ve been a captain myself, but I wasn’t. He had no sons.

Only Carmen and I, and while she was a brilliant strategist and I had a good head for numbers, he wanted us to stay away from the bloodshed.

Not like the Callahan family. Malachy Callahan, my father’s biggest adversary, had three sons, and each one of them seemed to like bloodshed more than the last. I guessed, in a way, we were lucky.

I’d gone to school with the two oldest Callahans, and even back then, I could tell they were assholes. The oldest one, Tristan Callahan, was always surrounded by girls, played guitar, and carried a book of poems with him.

As if the fact that he looked like that wasn’t enough to get him laid.

But maybe we would have been too, if we had been boys. Thankfully, Carmen and I didn’t have to deal with that shit. At least not directly.

And we also weren’t responsible for people’s lives. At least not…directly. That was what got me through the days. I just did the numbers. If people fucked up, if they made my father unhappy, then I had to believe that was on them.

Rain pattered on my window as I focused back on the spreadsheet in front of me, my laptop warm as I balanced it on my knees. It all felt absurdly cozy–just another example of the dissonance of my life. Balancing the books for a criminal enterprise while I sat curled up in my perfect living room.

My father had always been pretty traditional. My mom was happy to follow his lead, though her life was very different from mine. She hadn’t wanted my sister and I to get involved, but what could she do? We knew how much dad made, and we were used to the luxuries of our lives.

Shit…the books, Adriana. You have a job to do.

I wasn’t sure why, but lately, I had been finding it difficult to concentrate.

I took a sip of my green tea as I glanced around my living room, the mismatched furniture a testament to the life I’d built for myself. If it had been up to my father, he would’ve furnished my entire apartment with ddc pieces. Instead, I’d found my furniture thrift shopping and at secondhand stores.

It was one of those little joys in life. Of course, he still paid for it. Dad would’ve never let his daughter spend her own money to furnish her place.

A knock on the door startled me, and I tensed, my first instinct always to assume the worst. But as I peered through the peephole, I saw Carmen standing there, her expression somber.

“You don’t call?” I asked as I opened my door.

“I thought this was better in person,” she tied her red hair up in a bun behind her, taking a step inside and trying to push past me. She was the only redhead in our family, a remnant from our mother’s grandfather. She didn’t look like her confident self right then, though; something was clearly bothering her. It wasn’t like my sister to be upset about nothing. She was tenacious and determined, not letting anything or anyone stand in her way. It was something I admired about her, even if it sometimes meant she pushed others away.

“Are Mom and Dad okay?”

If she was worried, I was worried.

“They’re fine,” she waved me off. “Are you going to invite me in or are we going to have this conversation in the hallway?”

I stepped aside, letting her inside my living room. She walked past me and went straight to my living room, sitting on one of the mismatched couches. I followed her, taking a seat next to her. “You have keys.”

She grimaced. “This already felt like an ambush.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, studying her face. It was hard to read but there was definitely something there.

“Did you hear what happened to the Rossi family?” Carmen asked, crossing her legs as she looked around my apartment.

I shook my head.

“They got raided by the police last night.”

My heart sank. “We didn’t…”

She held her hand up. “No, we’re smarter than that,” she shook her head. “Idiots. That’s what happens when you don’t play your cards right.”

I joined her in the living room. “Do you want a drink?”

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