Page 1 of Revenge & Ruin

1

TEO

The church bells set my teeth on edge. They shouldn’t. I should be celebrating my best friend’s wedding, but I haven’t been inside a church since my parents died.

I haven’t heard those bells since I buried my eight-year-old sister.

It’s easier to fake a smile once we leave the church, trailing behind Cassandra Moretti’s long, white dress that does nothing to conceal her ever-growing baby bump. Something that her new husband, Rocco, seems unashamedly proud to showcase to the world.

And the world indeed showed up to see. I wasn’t aware that Rocco even knew this many people. But being the don of a prominent Italian mafia family comes with all sorts of perks, and the Guild has everything to celebrate today.

“Teo!”

Someone yanks at my arm as I approach the head table at the reception. It’s resplendent with a display of white opulence with golden detailing, the signature color scheme of the illustrious Plaza Hotel that even extends to my suite’s bathroom.

I look down at the woman clutching at my arm and almost laugh at how she seems to exist in pure defiance of the clean decadence of our surroundings. Her fiery red hair is frazzled from the pressure of her position within the wedding party and her lips are curled into a perpetual grimace.

“Mia,” I reply lightly. Mia Chiavari poured drinks at the Guild's Candelabra like she belonged there, but I knew better—her real work happened in the shadows, just like her father had taught her.

Her grip on my arm does not ease. “Alessandro is fucking drunk already and keeps mouthing off about how Rocco is too distracted to run the Guild anymore.”

I try not to wince. Alessandro, one of Rocco's most trusted men, is an asshole, but he’s not the first person to mention how lax Rocco’s control of the Guild has been as of late. If Rocco had been less adored, someone might have taken advantage of his engagement, wedding, and child in utero to wrestle some of his power away.

I glance over to where Alessandro is tilting back in his chair, shooting greedy looks toward the head table. He makes me think some might try to anyway.

“I don’t see why Alessandro ismyproblem,” I point out.

Mia levels me with a glare that could bring down the entire building. “You are thebest man,Teo. Anything that threatens this wedding is your problem.”

“And if the Maid of Honor is wound up so tight she wants me to cause a scene at said wedding, does that make you a threat, too?”

When I behold her fury, I can’t help but be reminded of our tumultuous teenage years, forced together as the unwilling children of our mafioso parents. Our hatred for one another has never quite managed to mature into anything more than contempt.

This is why I’m not surprised when Mia hisses back: “Listen here,princeling,if anything goes wrong today, I will personally see to it that your balls become permanently detached from your body. Do I make myself clear?”

I do wince this time. Not at her threat, though I don’t doubt she’d make good on it. I wince instead at the nickname she’s been using since she discovered it was a point of irritation for me. It’s a button she likes to press to remind me that I am somehow beneath her.

In many ways, I wish the Prince’s Hand, the organization my parents ran through the backrooms of casinos throughout New York City, had died with them.

Instead, I must live on each day, knowing that their killers have likely warped my inheritance beyond recognition.

I’ve made a point never to cross the Brooklyn Bridge and set foot in New York City while the Natali family remains in control of the Prince’s Hand. Revenge is never too far from my thoughts.

But my fury does not extend to the woman before me, despite her petty attempts to rile me up. “Been thinking about my balls, have you,mio caro?”

I don’t wince when Mia moves, quick as lightning. She presses something cool, hard, andsharpinto my neck. How she kept her knife concealed in her flowing rouge bridesmaid dress, I don’t really want to know.

“Give me one good reason, Teo Vitale.”

Ting, ting, ting.

We simultaneously turn to see Rocco, now standing at the head table, with a glass in hand. He’s directing a very pointed look at the both of us.

He clears his throat, and we scatter to opposite ends of the table, dutifully taking our chairs next to the rest of the wedding party. Around us, the happy chattering of the reception fades to near silence as everyone stares expectantly at the don.

“Friends,” Rocco begins, his voice relentlessly strong and commanding despite the occasion. “Please allow me to introduce, for the first time, Mrs. Cassandra Moretti!”

Beside him, Cas flushes a perfect shade of pink as the room erupts in applause. Rocco adopts the most heart-wrenching look of awe and pride as he gazes lovingly down at his wife. I can feel my smile straining at the sight.

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