Page 89 of Thorns of Silence
Goddammit. I almost had her. If only this fucking idiot hadn’t been intent on ruining my rehearsal dinner kiss—albeit with the wrong sister.
With her taste on my lips, I made my way back and found a quiet corner. Amon was tasked with taking Reina home before she could embarrass herself further, so I had free rein to watch Nix. Good luck to my brother handling the other Romero girl.
I’d need luck myself too, judging by Phoenix’s cheerful welcome. My balls still ached from when she’d kneed me.
Relations had been tentative with Romero, and I didn’t intend to alarm him before I could get my hands on his oldest daughter. So, I forced my aggravation aside, focusing on what I came here to do. Surviving this clusterfuck.
Removing my suit jacket, I rolled the sleeves of my shirt up past my forearms, forcing myself to relax.
Music was a steady hum in the background and my eyes locked on Phoenix who was surrounded by her friends.
“I’m surprised Luca DiMauro isn’t here,” Enrico Marchetti said, probably trying to distract me with conversation before I blew a gasket. He’d witnessed Nix kneeing me in my balls and he knew it didn’t take much to push me over the edge. The reputation preceded me.
Marchetti ran a tight ship with his businesses. He had his own set of rules, his own way of doing things, which weren’t always aligned with mine.
It was the reason we had the Omertà table. There, we were free to discuss and vote for important and often delicate matters.
“Why?” I drawled. “It’s not like I talk to him much.”
Luca DiMauro ran Sicily. He and Marchetti had a falling out a few years back, and I suspected he probably wanted to find a way to bury the hatchet. He leaned back in his chair as he flicked me a look.
His dark gaze put the fear of God in his enemies, but it’d take a lot more than that to scare me. I’d lived a hell of my own, even if I didn’t remember it.
“You invited all the Omertà members, right?” Manuel, Enrico’s uncle, asked. “You know those men are worse than scorned women. They’ll moan and groan, then they’ll bitch until they’re blue in the face for not being invited.”
I shrugged. “I gave the invitation list to Romero.”
“Reina didn’t handle it?” Manuel asked surprised, flicking a look at the girls minus Reina, who were doing yet another round of shots.
“Does it seem to you like she handled it?” I muttered under my breath. “My ears still hurt from her drunken words.”
A few of Marchetti’s loyalsoldatiroamed around, ensuring the safety of Enrico’s sons and his new wife, Isla. Not that he needed them when he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. The woman couldn’t even sneeze without him noticing.
“No, I guess not,” Manuel responded. “Should have known it when she showed up late.” More thanlate, they’d almost missed the whole thing. I wouldn’t have given two shits about it, except that it meant less time with Phoenix. “Where is she anyhow?”
“Romero asked Amon to take her home. Phoenix and the girls would go home with you and Marchetti.”
Almost as though her ears were burning, Nix looked up and met my eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, but that icy glare still lingered. And then she added the finishing touch by promptly flipping me off.
“Your future sister-in-law isn’t your biggest fan,” Enrico remarked dryly. “In fact, it’s almost as if she wants to kill you.”
Manuel chuckled. “Judging by the way she kneed him in the balls, shewillkill him.”
“Fucking funny.”
“Yeah, that looked like it hurt.”
Lovely, now Illias was inserting himself.
“If you’re going to be a smart-ass, keep walking, Konstantin,” I said matter-of-factly. “Or maybe I’ll entertain you with stories of your little sister.” It was only recently that Isla’s connection to the Pakhan had been revealed. Right around the time that she married Enrico Marchetti. “How much trouble do you think those five got into?”
A muscle flexed in his and Enrico’s jaws, and I let a chuckle loose. Truthfully, none of them knew the shit those girls got into when they decided to party.
“Watch yourself, Leone,” Konstantin said, his voice lethally calm and his face devoid of any emotion. The atmosphere took a distinct nosedive, and that was saying something considering it wasn’t cheerful to begin with.
“If Amon wasn’t so fond of you, I’d smash your face.” Obviously, Marchetti wasn’t my biggest fan either. Cry me a fucking river.
They all wanted the connection to the Yakuza, and my brother, being the prince of one of the most dangerous organizations in the world, helped. The relations between the Yakuza and the Omertà had always been strained at best. Amon’s heritage provided an edge over other organizations in the underworld.
