Page 37 of Mercy in Betrayal

At least they were proving their worth so far with a steady stream of heroin imports coming into the Port Elizabeth docks sent by the suppliers I won in Afghanistan.

Tom shakes his head. “Hundreds of people were killed in the Pits. The list of possible culprits is endless.”

Tom is right.

You wouldn’t have fixed it anyway. It took your sister to make it right. You had one job to do, and that was to find Frank, and you fucked it up.

I pick up my suit jacket and slide it on.

“What about Marzano?” I button the jacket.

Tom shifts from one foot to the other before taking the cigarette from behind his ear. “ You know how my contract works, Enzo.”

I snort. “I know, you belong to both families.” Just because I know that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“I belong to the people I care about. I’ve been in this business for a long time, Enzo, but I’ve watched all of you kids grow up. My only interest is in doing what’s right for all of you.” Tom rolls the cigarette between his fingers.

“Even if our interests interfere with each other’s?”

Tom tilts his head. “My position was designed to be impartial.” His gaze pleads with me to let it go.

But I can’t.

“Humans can’t be impartial.” The old man looks away and I hate arguing with him. He is the closest thing I have to a father, but even with Tom, I keep my walls high. I promised no one would ever have the power to fuck me over.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

Tom leaves, and I turn to the mirror to assess my appearance.

Such a fucking disappointment. My father’s voice rages inside me.

Reaching up, I dig my fingers into Rowan’s bite, pushing until pain and heat and dampness blooms. Uttering a quiet oath, I peel back the suit jacket to see a small red stain on my shirt.

That won’t do.

I quickly change, putting on a black shirt this time and pulling my jacket over it. I don’t bother with a tie.

Outside I stop to admire my black Bugatti-Chiron that’s already idling in the drive for me.

Just perfect.

The leather beneath me is heated, and I grip the steering wheel before popping the center console. Taking out my sunglasses, I put them on and give my beauty a little rev just to hear her sweet purr.

It reminds me of the sounds of pleasure Rowan made in the Vessel.

The increased funds are starting to pay off from the shipments, and I know what I will do with a bit of extra cash—add another beauty to my collection.

I pull out of the driveway, already making plans. I will go car hunting, but not today. Today I have a wedding to attend. Today will tell a lot.

When Angel Valachi demanded that all of the famiglia daughters be my sister’s bridesmaids— fucking stupid if you ask me—I knew this wedding would mark the deadline on my courtship of Rowan O’Rourke, such as it was.

She should be thoroughly wooed by now. I’ve saved her from a mugging, made out with her in a forbidden place, flirted with her via text and in person, spent what little time together I could manage, and, of course—I have the prize: her virginity. That should seal the deal, yet an unease has settled upon me.

She had been more than I had expected. I reach up and touch my shoulder. The memory of wanting to share her pain as I took her virginity makes me uncomfortable. Why did I care so much?

Because you are weak. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel and I push my foot down hard on the accelerator like I might outrun his voice.

Half an hour later, I slow down in front of Our Lady of Pompeii church, where the wedding will be held.

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