Page 59 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

I grimace, turning slightly away. “You,” I say, waving a hand in front of my nose. “I want you to take a long look in the mirror, walk into your bathroom, and fix whatever the hell this is.”

Anthony scoffs, his chapped lips curling into something resembling amusement. “I see. Still not done bossing me around, huh?” His voice is laced with bitterness. “You think you have authority here, Ethan? That you call the shots?”

His posture stiffens, and for the first time, his gaze sharpens. “You might be a year older than me. You might own this place. But don’t forget—” he jabs a finger at his chest “—everything was supposed to be mine.”

“I’m not bossing you around,” I say, facing him again squarely. I cut through the sympathy quicker than I expected it would last. “You’re not a child, Anthony. You need to act like a functioning member of the Cross family. Go in there,” I point, “take a fucking shower and come out. I’ll be in your living room.”

“Sure,” he mumbles, then slams the door in my face. Irritation bubbles to my throat, and I reach forward instinctively, but I hold myself back at the last moment.

I could do everything without Anthony’s help, but I don’t want to exclude my family. However, if I’m making an effort to include him, then it’ll be on my terms.

As I sit in the living room… something occurs to me. Something I’ve been thinking andtryingnot to think about for over a week.

Natalie Monroe.

Leaving Anthony’s apartment meant leaving her, but I convinced myself I had more important things to deal with and she was just another distraction.

I tried to keep Natalie from evading every thought. Then I caught a glimpse of someone who looked like her at Luna Royale, and I thought… I thought that if I came by, I could see her.

It’s obvious she’s not here, though.

Did Anthony let her go?

“Don’t assume I’m going to entertain you,” he says as he shuffles into the living room. His hair is dripping onto his shirt, but it’s a change from the disaster of before. “I’m not in the mood to be civil with you, and Natalie quit a couple of days ago.”

My eyes widen slightly. She quit?

“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Why did she quit? I don’t know.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “She said she had other stuff to do, but she also asked me why you hadn’t been around in a while. I should’ve told her the truth—” he says sarcastically. “Told her that my cousin undermined my authority in front of a bunch of stupid people. Maybe she would’ve looked less disappointed.”

She was disappointed?

No. I shake my head. Anthony has a habit of exaggerating things. Why would someone like her—a breath of fresh air—seek out someone like me, a man who would cloud her life and steal every last ray of light?

Still, his words spark something deep in my chest, a warmth I acknowledge.

“Then again,” Anthony throws out casually, “it might’ve been because some of the men were talking about her.”

I sit up abruptly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Anthony shrugs, the kind of nonchalant, childish gesture that only pisses me off further. “I don’t know. I think I heard someone say something about her not putting out, even though she was one of them?”

The heat in my chest turns cold. One of them.

I don’t have to ask further to know he’s talking abouthiswomen. The women Anthony brings home are never for him alone—they goaround willingly. Some asshole must’ve assumed that Natalie was one of them and put their hands on her.

Bastard.

I don’t even realize I’ve clenched my fists until my knuckles ache. “Who said that?”

“Why should I care? It wasn’t my—”

Before I can reason my action, my fist is across Anthony’s jaw, and the brunt sends him sprawling to the floor. I stand over him as the haze clears from my eyes, but I don’t have any regret.

Instead, I’m filled with more rage.

“Who,” I grit my teeth, “the hell, laid a hand on her? You’re going to sober the fuck up and tell me, or I swear, I’ll treat you like you’re not family.”

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