Page 91 of Hidden Empire

My stomach flutters at the thought of him. He isn’t here today, at least not that I can see. But Ivan is, and he’s sitting on a bench with Dustin Wyatt. The two of them are hardly making conversation; they look more awkward than naturally paired together, but neither of them truly stands out. I only notice because I wish I could go say hi.

“Well,” Matteo prods, standing at my side. “What do you think?”

I don’t really know yet.

“It’s something.”

At least we don’t have to wear our uniforms on weekends. I would feel weird as hell wearing a skirt and tights around this atmosphere. Matteo’s crewneck and my wool-lined leggings are the only reason I’m not shivering.

“Ugh,” he complains. “Dad produced way too many party haters.”

“Awww,” I coo, patting his arm. “There, there, Matteo. You’re just the most fun, the rest of us can’t possibly compete.”

He softens up like a little pile of goo. “You think so?”

“I speak the truth.”

Matteo smirks, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Does that mean I can actually throw you a party for your nineteenth?”

I’m not sure that Matteo will ever get over the devastation of me not wanting a big thing for my eighteenth birthday. He understood, of course. I’d just arrived, and every last bit of my trauma had been out in the open. No one, including me, was in a very partying mood. Martha still baked me a cake—she could not be talked out of it—and she sang me a birthday song in Italian that made my eyes water. It was the best birthday in my entire life. There was no need for a party or presents.

Though no one got the memo on the presents bit. I still haven’t unwrapped every gift my father and Uncle Cesar got for me. Most notably, a freaking car that I am too scared to drive on my own, but Matteo taught me how right away. Driving is an important survival skill, apparently. Even if I know enough to drive myself away from trouble now, my hands still shake when I take the wheel. I mean, it’s a Lexus.

I looked up how much those things cost, and driving around a car that’s worth more money than I ever expected to make as a salary is crazy. The worst part is, that was the cheapest vehicle Dad would even consider. According to all of my stubborn brothers, it’s safe, and there’s no way to talk our father into returning it.

“I suppose you can throw me a party,” I concede, selfishly loving the bright smile that beams on his face as a result. Matteo’s happiness is some of the most contagious joy in the world. His smile makes you smile.

“If you promise to always have my back, even if I do something to piss you off.”

Matteo scoffs. “Duh. You’re my little sister, I’ve always got you.”

“Even if I piss you off,” I repeat, holding up my pinky. “You’ll still have my back?”

He looks at my finger, eyebrows pulling in. “Did you already do something to piss me off?”

I shrug, giving him a defiant look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Matteo cracks up, hooking my pinky with his. “Alright, I promise. But I’m not promising to be happy about it.”

“Deal.”

He chuckles. “Deal.”

“So,” I hum, looking around the small sea of bodies. “What do we do?”

“Well, we’re not drinking,” he grumbles, kicking a small rock away from his feet. “Gotta be honest that’s like half of the appeal of these things. Getting drunk and maybe hooking up with someone you shouldn’t. And both of those are off the table, so.”

“Now I know why no one wanted to come with you,” I joke.

“Screw those guys,” he huffs. “We’re going to have fun.”

He’s stubborn but his positive outlook is so endearing.

“We could play cards,” I offer, nodding to the small table of people doing just that.

Matteo hesitates. “Losing sucks and Ares is running that thing. You don’t run a gambling empire without learning how to win constantly.”

Fair enough. But— “You know, I bet we could beat him if we played together.”

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