Page 16 of Vengeful Mafia Prince

She narrows her eyes at me. "You sure about that?"

"Don't I sound sure?"

"No." She's blunt with me, the way only family can be.

I rise to my feet and head to the vintage drink cart that sits next to the window to pour myself a generous scotch. It's from a bottle my father got for himself for his 50th birthday. He never had time to drink it, but I've been steadily working through it since he passed. Not as though I don't have plenty of reason to drink.

I take a long sip and then turn back to my sister.

"Valentina, you know how important this is to me," I tell her directly. "And you know I'm not going to pretend like it doesn't matter. I'm going to bring the Westbrook family down, and I don't give a damn what it takes."

"Yeah, well, I do," she protests. "I care about my family, Giovanni, even if you don't care about yourself. And I'm sure as hell not going to lose anyone else, you hear me?" Her voice cracks as she finishes up, the pain evident on her face.

I frown. I hate seeing her like this. The two of us, we're all we have. I know it's not fair, putting her through all of this after what she's already lost, but she can't expect me to just stand back and let the people who killed our parents walk free.

"How long is this going to take?" she demands, covering up the sadness with fire again.

"There are about six weeks left till they decide who's going to get this position. By then, I'll have it all under control. You have my word on that."

She flicks her gaze up to meet mine. "You sure about that?"

"Certain."

That seems to soothe something in her. Slowly, she lets out a long breath and nods.

"Okay," she replies. "Just... just stay vigilant, okay? I don't trust these motherfuckers. Not one bit. I don't trust them not to have pulled you into this because they know damn well what you're planning and then turn around and hurt you when they get the chance."

"I'm on top of it," I assure her calmly, taking another sip of my drink. But even as the words come out of my mouth, I feel a twinge of doubt.

Am I? Can I be, when I'm doing the things I'm doing with Elena? I can tell myself it's all about making her vulnerable, getting her to open up to me in ways she's never opened up to anyone before, but the longer it goes on, the more it's clear to me that there's more to our connection than I could have accounted for.

And I don't know exactly where to draw the line.

Or if I even can any more.

Chapter Nine—Elena

I tug my coat up high, doing my best to cover my face. I feel like I'm under scrutiny right now, even if that's ridiculous. Nobody knows what I'm doing.

And yet, I know if he finds out about it, he's going to tear me apart.

I don't know exactly how I mean that—or how I want to mean it. I'm so torn between wanting him and hating him, desiring him and despising him, and I need to know what exactly is hiding underneath the surface that he's doing his best to hide.

I reached out to a... well, private investigator is a grand term. But one of the journalism students I met during my first week. They have some connections in the world of the media, and I know that the tentacles of that particular industry reach deep into the undergrowth of this city.

Jordan, the journalism student in question, has agreed to meet me at a coffee shop on campus so he can hand over the information he's got his hands on. Which all seems more than a little neo-noir to me, but hey, if I get to find out what's really going on with Johnny, then it's going to be worth it.

I glance up from the table as the door pings once more, and sure enough, there he is, the man I've been waiting for. Jordan is wearing a large overcoat that he's got pulled up to his chin, and he's glancing around so furtively that I'm sure there's nobody who hasn't noticed him so far.

"Jordan, what the hell are you doing!" I hiss as he finally joins me at the table. "Why are you dressed like that? This isn't some kind of spy drama!"

"What are you talking about?" he demands. "You think I'm doing this for show? I don't want anyone to see me talking to you about this damn family!"

I try to wrap my head around what he's saying. Is he telling me that this is real? That this crazy, batshit getup is because he seriously doesn't want to be seen?

"What exactly did you dig up on Johnny?" I ask him finally after swallowing hard. Suddenly, I'm distinctly aware of how out in the open we are, as though someone could have taken a shot at us at any moment.

He glances around again, then pulls a folder from his bag. He places it on the table and pushes it toward me. I flip it open at once, lifting one arm as casually as I can to shield the sight of the folder's contents from the rest of the cafe.

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