Page 1 of Weaponized

Gráinne

Beauty is a burden that can be weaponized. Under its shiny veneer, the core can be sharp, jagged, and ugly. Of course, you’ll only learn this if you get too close, once it’s too late. I know this better than anyone. It’s been the key to my survival.

I study the pictures in front of me. Images that will soon have to be burned in anticipation of my new college apartment eventually being searched. Four different young men look back at me. All are from powerful families and all unknowing that I have been sent here to change one of their lives forever.

“Gráinne,” my father snaps, any semblance of patience long gone. “I will check in this weekend. Do you understand me?”

There is no misunderstanding my father. There never is, and in my world, there never will be. I know what he expects of me. That may be the only good thing I can say about him. He is alwaysveryclear in his intentions. “Yes, Da.”

“You have everything you need to be successful,” he states, looking me over, as if we haven’t been over this more than a dozen times already. “Take this week to decide which one will suit.I prefer the Larozzi boy, but I am being generous in giving you options.”

There are no options and my father is never generous. Not with me. But I don’t argue. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. It will be Matteo Larozzi, the Italian mafia heir, just as he wishes. “Thank you,” I say softly. He nods, satisfied for now.

“Finish getting settled, and don’t keep that file too long. Call Seamus if you need anything.” His tone is bored now that he’s on his way out. He checks the Breguet on his wrist and I know his time with me is done. I don’t bother to tell him I wouldn’t call Seamus if he was the last man on Earth. There’s no point.

“Gráinne, don’t disappoint me. You won’t like the consequences.”

I know this, so I nod. With no further words of wisdom, my father straightens his cuffs and stalks out of my new apartment, closing the door behind him.

I sigh and throw myself on my sofa. My new home is well decorated, yet comfortable. Oversized furniture with soft cushions, uniquely patterned knit throws, fresh flowers on the table. Clothes pressed and hung in the walk-in closet. I even have plenty of health food in the refrigerator and cabinets. My mother’s assistant really did great work. My mom is fixated on ensuring I have the best of everything, whereas my father, well, he’s fixated on something else entirely.

Honestly, that just went pretty well as far as time with my father goes. I serve a purpose for him, as he believes all children should. Cormac O’Toole has a clear plan in life and, like my brother and sister, I am an intricate part of it. I wouldn’t exist otherwise.

My mother once told me that Da is a hard man, but that isn’t a description that I would use.Violent. Disturbed. Evil. These are all better words to give you a more accurate picture of my father, the boss of New York’s Irish Mob. He will stop at no less than world domination, and he will use any means necessary to get there. My siblings and I are all pawns in his master game of chess. And, he has placed me here, at St. Agnes University, as his next move.

St. A’s is well-known for the number of corrupt elites who send their children to school here. It’s a special class of mafia, politicians, crime lords, and billionaires. The powerful who rule the world. It’s almost ridiculous to think that so many of the morally bankrupt would elect the same college for their spawn, but it works well on many different levels. The heads of several different legacy families are on the board of governors here, so it’s a controlled environment that also provides a world-class education. It’s a designated safe space to groom future dons and pakhans, presidents and moguls, and it’s where alliances and boundaries either can be shifted or solidified. It’s a place designed to ensure that our families will rule long into the future. As a result, it’s also where future mafia and society wives can be matched. That’s why I’m assuming no one will be surprised that I’ve transferred, despite my brief reprieve during the last two years I spent at NYU. My older brother is a senior here.

When we were younger, Rowan was my biggest protector, my hero. He has the scars to prove it. I think about Rowan as I delicately run my fingers over the beautiful Celtic knot charm necklace I always wear. It was a gift from him on my sixteenth birthday.

My lot in life is different from his. You see, my father had an obsession with the idea of a femme fatale,and that is what he decided his firstborn daughter should be. He married our mother, a Swedish supermodel, with the intention of breeding beautiful children. Any imperfection was either beaten out of me by my father or sculpted out of me by his plastic surgeon. At the ripe age of twenty, I now glide rather than walk. My smile is dazzling. My lips are just pink and puffy enough. My golden hair is long, thick, and shiny. My ivory complexion is creamy and flawless. My eyes are an almost startling sky blue. This is the veneer.

Underneath, I am not so lustrous. I began training as soon as I could walk, learning different languages as a child because I’d need to know Spanish, Italian, Russian, and Greek if my father were to infiltrate his enemies. I learned combat skills, weaponry, and evasion tactics, all so that I’d be able to serve any purpose my father needed. Simply put, I was literally created to bring a man to his knees, either from my appearance or my assault. Yes, underneath, I am ugly sharp edges, jagged and dangerous, and Matteo Larozzi will soon be my prey.

Technically, I have four possible avenues to succeed for my father. Four of my new classmates belong to families whose alliance would benefit him in some way. While my father has deemed it permissible for me to seduce a son from any of these families, the real win is by working my way into the Larozzi household. My father wouldn’t have specified the Italian heir otherwise. If I fail with a Larozzi, I’m certain my sister, Maeve, will be up next, as there is a younger brother close to her age. One way or another, he plans to take what he believes is due to him.He’s a patient man, my father, when he needs to be.

I pull open the file again and look through the photos and notes. Theo Nicopolis is probably the best looking of the bunch. He matches my golden appearance and looks like he should be in a Ralph Lauren ad. He’s polished with a carefree smile and a sparkle in his eyes. He’s typically seen with brunettes, so that would be the challenge with him. It’s one I’m sure I could manage if I needed to. Aligning with the Greeks would win my father some new business lines to add to his empire.

Liam McGuiness is the next photo. He’s also Irish, obviously. His father runs Chicago, so that alliance is the easiest and probably most expected. It would unite the Irish and broaden our reach. Liam is a manwhore from what I can tell. I’d simply have to encourage him to settle down, which, by my estimation, involves playing hard to get, then giving a little at a time until he can’t live without me. It’s a definite possibility, so I decide it’s a solid backup plan.

Finally, the Larozzi brothers. Luca and Matteo are fraternal twins. Luca is a monster. He is an absolute beast of a man, standing at least six foot six inches, and is obscenely muscular. Tattoo sleeves color his arms and more creep up his neck. His nose looks like it’s been broken a time or two and his eyes are a dark, piercing navy. It’s expected that he will eventually be his brother’s enforcer. There are rumors that he put two guys in the hospital for the crime of smoking too close to his car. His photo alone makes me uneasy.

Matteo resembles his brother with thick dark hair and denim blue eyes. He shares the same square jaw and full lips. However, he’s more classically handsome.He is a few inches shorter and not as bulky. He has a leaner muscle that hints of controlled strength. Matteo is the one expected to take over for Victor Larozzi one day. There may still be the five Italian Families of New York, but everyone understands that Victor runs it all. Through marriages and wars, the territory is all his. Technically, either brother would do, but my father would want me to marry the future don. I understand what’s expected.

School starts in two days. I have a little unpacking to finish, but more importantly, I have more research to do on Matteo. He is unreadable from the little information I’ve gleaned. There have been girls, but no one type. The research I was handed shows that he engages in underground fighting. It’s not much to go on. I’m going to need to do some reconnaissance in person, because what I’ve been provided thus far isn’t enough to help me figure out a plan to win his heart.

Gráinne

I sit motionless in the tree above Matteo’s house, looking over a party in full swing. My blond locks are safely tucked away in my black balaclava. Sweat dots my hairline. I’m pleased with how well I blend into the inky sky as I fight the discomfort of the late August humidity. Everyone is in the well-lit backyard, which makes viewing this scene much easier.

The house itself is a large, brick monstrosity. It’s out of place on this tree-lined street. It takes up three lots and has a modern design, causing it to stand out from the other neighborhood colonials that are set closer to the street. I wonder what previous homes were torn down to create the oversized structure. The backyard is also huge and was obviously designed with entertaining in mind, with a large pool, a smaller pool house, and several seating areas. A full kitchen even sits under a covered patio. There must be a hundred people enjoying its offerings tonight.

I can see my brother of all people laughing with a curvy, petite girl who is looking at him with an open, friendly expression. She walks away when her friends beckon her, and he watches her ass as she goes. I file that information away and go back to looking for my target.

Matteo stands next to his bear of a brother and two other guys I don’t yet recognize.He is completely expressionless as he surveys the activity going on around him. A pretty girl with a high blond ponytail, wearing the skimpiest bikini I’ve ever seen, saunters over to him. She hugs herself against his arm and he nods in acknowledgment without backing away or welcoming her. He continues to sip his drink and pays her no more attention, listening to one of his friends tell an animated story.

She tries to get his attention a few more times, brushing her boob against him, giggling too much at the story being told. He gives her the barest of recognition, eyes flitting her way occasionally, almost as if he forgets she’s still there. He laughs at his friend’s story, but there is no warmth in his eyes. I wonder where his mind is as I watch him pour the last of a bottle of bourbon into his cup.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I move as quickly and quietly as possible to check it. I keep it low, hiding it below my hand, to see if it’s my father checking in already. I don’t want anyone to see the light, but a delay in answering Da is never a good idea. It’s a text from Rowan.

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