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“How'd we miss this?”Kane asks, voicing the same question we all have.

I open my mouth to answer but stop as Haze storms back into church, waiving a newspaper above his head.He levels me with his dark stare and tosses it on the table in front of me.My eyes drop to the headline‘New York's Most Eligible Bachelor is off the Market’.I keep reading, pausing when I see Ivan's name.What the fuck?I flip the page and there are pictures of Ivan but oddly none of his bride-to-be.

“This,” I tap the paper."This is his next move.I just don't know what his endgame is.”

“How do you know?”Pop asks, as he steeples his fingers under his chin and fixes me with a questioning stare.That look still holds the power to halt me in my tracks and make me think twice.Admittedly, I feel a thread of unease when I’m held under the pointed scrutiny of my father’s gaze.

“Because Ivan is all about that Russian ballerina,” Kane answers for me.

I point to him and continue his line of reasoning, “Because Ivan wants the dancer.”

“Fuck yes, he does.He flaunts that little bitch around like she's a show pony.”Link states, distaste marring his tone.

“What do we know about the girl he’s supposed to marry, Dragon?”

His fingers soar across his computer's keys.“Oh, shit.Listen to this.Sophia Angelini is the bastard daughter of Tony Angelini.Her mother died when she was eight and to save face Tony took her in.He sent her off to Italy to an all-girls school where she stayed for...uh, records show she was there until last year.From the looks of it, she tried to keep as much distance as she could between herself and her family.Currently, she lives alone above her flower shop here in the Bronx.Oh, hold on a minute, what's this?”Dragon types something else and his eyes dart up to mine.“You ain't going to believe this, Prez.That building we've been trying to get our hands on.It's hers.It was part of her mother's estate, but if I had to guess, she doesn't know about it.”

“If Ivan gets his hands on it...”Kane trails off.

“That's why he wants the girl,” Dragon offers.

I was already thinking the same thing.

“We can't let that happen,” Link asserts firmly.

I nod my head in agreement.“We won't.Get me a meeting with Alessio.”

Link pulls out his phone and leaves the room.

“Anyone have anything else to discuss?”I ask.When nobody speaks up, I bang the gavel and wait for everyone to file out before following behind them.

With everything that’s happened today, there’s no time to sit around and cry over spilled milk.We have fucking work to do.

* * *

The next afternoon, Kane, Haze and I pull up in front of Alessio's mansion in the sky.

“What’s the plan?”Kane asks, staring up at the seventeen-story monstrosity.

I really hadn’t thought that far ahead; all I knew for sure was that something was going on right under my nose inmy ownfucking city and I wasn’t about to sit around on my ass waiting for answers.

“Could kill ‘em?”Haze shrugs.

My lips twitch.That is an option I haven’t completely taken off the table, although it goes against the decades-old truce my grandfather brokered.It’s probably best I leave that as a last course of action.

“Come on.”Climbing off my bike, I head for the door.There was no time like the present and I was hoping catching Alessio off guard would garner more answers than questions.

“This is a joke, right?”Kane asks, eyeing the doorman and unguarded door with suspicion.I’m not seeing the easy access to the building as funny, but it’s not my job to tell them how to run their shit.

“Fucking mafia,” Haze snarls, disgusted by the lack of security.I nod in agreement.They’ve lived in this safe little fucking bubble for far too long and have forgotten one of the most important cardinal rules—never let your fucking guard down.

As we walk through the starkly decorated lobby on our way to the reception desk, I notice Haze scanning the room for threats and shaking his head.Not a single guard is stationed down here.Alessio must think the elevator, separating him from the real world, will keep the wolves at bay.Our ability to walk right in this motherfucker is testament to how off his rocker he is.

“Yo!”Kane says loudly, drawing the attention of the man behind the counter.When the attendant spins around to face us, his eyes widen comically.

“M— M—Mr.St.James,” he stutters.Feeling at a disadvantage my eyes dart to his name tag.

Jon.

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