Page 29 of Gilded Princess

She’s an uncut gem, raw and nestled into her cozy life in the big city, unaware of the dangers lurking around every corner. And being with me would triple—quadruple—the dangers around her.

She’s priceless to me.

And you don’t just let go of that.

He thinks I’ve been working all these years to recreate what the five families should be out of some altruistic idea, and maybe it started that way. But I knew the first time my dad threatened to give her to Gideon Warren. The self-proclaimed king of the East Coast pipeline.

That was the last straw for me.

Fuck him, and fuck all the other sick fucks who think it’s okay to sell kids to pedophiles.

Just thinking about that fateful night has my blood boiling in my veins.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh cracks through the air, reverberating in my skull as my head rings. I wrench my neck back to look at the piece of shit who bears my last name with contempt screaming in my gaze and a cruel smile on my face.

Blood trickles down my nose, but I don’t bother to wipe it away. The action only fuels his hate, and I’m just about fucking done with this shit.

My dad stands before me in a false pillar of patriarchal confidence. He knows the tides are starting to change. More soldiers and capos side with me every day, but he’s clinging to the old ways by the skin of his teeth—him and a few of my uncles.

He couldn’t make shit easy, no, not the proud Angelo Rossi, he’d detonate us from within before he’d ever give up control willingly.

And how fucking embarrassing it must be that his nineteen-year-old son won the favor of half the family so quickly. It’s tradition to pass the title down to the first-born son, but it doesn’t happen so soon. What the fuck did he expect when I became a made man at eighteen?

Blood trickles into my mouth, no doubt shading my teeth crimson, and a real smile stretches across my face. I stare my father in the face and take a single step forward. He’s not fast enough—or he’s too drunk—to hide the flinch, and I’m perversely satisfied.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, father.” The word tastes like treachery in my mouth. A mockery of the foundation of a family and the role a father should take.

I watch in fascination as he attempts to bolster his courage. A single light bulb illuminates the space we’re in, a circle of dim light in the dank basement of the Praying Mantis strip club he likes to frequent.

“You don’t have the guts, boy. What happens between your mother and I is none of your business, so keep out of it. So I’ll give you this one pass, but the next one’s going to cost you.” He sneers at me, attempting to regain control of the situation.

I laugh, the noise caustic and cruel. He thinks this is because he’s been smacking Ma around for years? Cute. She’s had several opportunities to leave—whole new lives already in place for her, and yet, she stays. And it sure as shit isn’t for her kids.

Without another word, I take the three steps and cock my fist back, letting it fly across his face. My knuckles split on his jaw, and blood arcs across the room from his mouth. The joy that settles into my heart at seeing him bleed by my hand is a worry for another day.

Before he can react, I hit him again. And again. And again. He falls to the floor, and I stand over him with one fist gripping his shirt to hold him up. I exercise my years of pent up rage on his face, and it’s so goddamn cathartic that I know I’ve awoken something inside of me that I don’t think I can shove back into its box.

I don’t stop until I feel hands on my shoulders pulling me back. My brother’s voice murmurs in my ear, and the familiar cadence snaps me out of my fury.

I uncurl my fingers, letting the material fall from my hand and my father’s unconscious body thump to the floor. I hold my hands up and roll my shoulders back. “I’m done. I’m done, man.”

“He’s going to fucking kill you, man. You can’t go after the boss like that. Uncle Paulie is going to drop you off the Whispering Eye in the middle of the Atlantic.”

My brother sounds scared, but I don’t share the sentiment. If anything, this was exactly the push I needed to realize that I’ve been going about it all wrong.

My whole life has been about family—and the families. And all I ever wanted was out.

As the oldest son to the boss of the Rossi family, my destiny was sealed long before I took my first breath. And for nineteen long years, I’ve done everything I could to get out. But that was never my fate.

“Nah. That was a father-son dispute. Had nothing to do with the families. Paulie’ll see it my way.” I turn and look at my brother, the whites of his wide eyes bright in the dank basement. “They’re about to see a lot of things my way, brother.”

It’s time to stop fighting the tide. It’s time to become the fucking tide. I’m going to bring down a tsunami unlike anything they’ve ever seen.

And it’ll be the last thing they ever see.

“Matteo?” Dante’s voice penetrates my memory, jolting me back to the present. My hands feel clammy, and I ignore the urge to wipe them off.

“What?” The word comes out harsher than I intended, but I just watched my girl jump into a car dressed to impress. And I’m the guy standing on the curb in the eighty-degree waning sunlight like an asshole.

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