Page 77 of Gilded Princess

Okay. So maybe it was a blown fuse. But that doesn’t explain the weird text. I want to ask Leo if he recognizes the number, but I’m going to wait until we’re out of here first. I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me.

I follow Leo to the front door, a half step behind him and to the left. I side-eye every single person I pass, looking for . . . something that could tell me what the text message or bathroom was all about. I don’t know what I’m expecting—maybe a sign that says “I’m guilty.”

But I don’t find anything but smiling people drinking coffee. And that might be the scariest part of all.

Chapter Thirty

MATTEO

I stare at the faces of the men around the table. The five families have always been the same. Romano, Marino, Gallo, Vitale, and Rossi. Our families crossed the pond decades ago and formed this unbreakable bond.

Unbreakable. What a fucking joke.

One of these motherfuckers could be behind the attacks. I eye each one, keeping my shoulders relaxed and my fists unclenched. It takes fucking work to act so unaffected. I don’t know how all of them sit here and sip their drinks as if some asshole hasn’t declared war on us by dumping bodies of our soldiers at our doorsteps.

But to go after someone’s woman?

That’s the level of savageness that should shake even the sturdiest of men. How can they not see the face of their wife or girlfriend or fucking side piece on Rachel Bianchi’s mutilated face? Sal Bianchi’s a fucking made man, been in the family for generations. A good earner, trusted member of the family.

And this is the respect he gets when his wife’s body is dumped on his front porch? Where’s the urgency, the vengeance?

A bunch of egotistical men smoking cigars like it’s a dinner party.

I can’t stop thinking that it could’ve been Madison. I know it’s irrational, and I don’t think any of them are even aware of her existence. But my fingers itch to call her.

Dante said to give her space and let Leo go after her. And as much as it pained me to not be the one to bring her back home, I didn’t have the time. We had to get here.

My lip curls as I scan the lot of ‘em. There’s no love lost between most of us. Half of ‘em still can’t get over my father naming me underboss and they take every opportunity to let their opinions be heard.

But could one of them turn on the five families like that? Going after someone’s wife is a far cry from snide comments and underhanded deals. It’s more than declaring a war.

It’s burning down everything the five families originally stood for and pissing on the burning embers.

Doesn’t matter if he’s made or not, a man goes after your woman unprovoked like that—he’s on borrowed time, and he fucking well knows it. Love doesn’t factor into the vengeance for most of these assholes. It’s about the disrespect.

I look at each of their faces—the heads of the families, a consigliere, their underbosses, and a soldier or two. None of them look overly distressed, but that doesn’t mean shit. These men have been playing poker three times a week for ten to twenty years.

I push down the urge to run my fingers through my hair to push it off my face. I’m fucking exhausted and stretched thin, and I’m sure the bags under my eyes show as much.

I let my mind wander as idle chatter surrounds me. I don’t really give a fuck about some petty bullshit between the families. The shit I need to know won’t be given so freely. It’s in the subtext and what people don’t say.

And I know Dante has my back—literally and figuratively. I know without looking that he’s standing behind me, back to the outer wall, hands crossed in front of him. He always leaves his suit coat unbuttoned, so should shit hit the fan, he doesn’t have to waste time wrestling open a button.

At least when it comes to this, I know I can trust him.

There will be a conversation about his actions with my girl, but murder waits for no man.

So here I am, gut burning with jealousy at my best fucking friend and my younger fucking brother. I clench my jaw and try to ignore the acidic poison infiltrating my veins and focus on the conversation around me.

Ironically, if I could’ve, I would’ve sent Dante with Madison. The Brotherhood is handling their business now, so she shouldn’t be in the same kind of danger. But I pulled off her check-in detail—which was mostly fucking Dante, a little detail I discovered only recently—since she’s been safe inside my house. I was going to get one of my most trusted soldiers to watch her while we came here, but Leo insisted he’d take care of her.

At Dante’s encouragement, I agreed. Let’s see if he can really hack the family life. He thinks he wants in, but he has no fucking idea what’s really required to be a member of this family.

Your goddamn soul.

I’ve been doing him a favor all these years, protecting him from this shit. And this is the thanks I get—he goes after the only girl I’ve ever cared about.

If these emergency mandatory five families meetings weren’t nonnegotiable, I would’ve gone after Cherry. But they are and they change locations on a dime. And if my second and I don’t show, the Rossis look weak. So here we are. Fucking miserable together.

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