Page 59 of Double Standards
She flinches—not away from me, but from herself, like she hates that she wants to lean in. Like she’s fighting it as hard as I am.
I could give her a thousand reasons to stay. I could promise her a thousand things if it meant she wouldn’t leave. But we both know it’d be a lie.
So I just hold her gaze, letting the silence say everything I can’t.Please don’t go. Please don’t make me watch you walk away.
She steps back. One step. Two. And I let her. Because if I don’t, I’ll drag her so deep into my world she’ll never claw her way out.
When the door clicks shut behind her, I stay exactly where I am—fist clenched around nothing but air, her ghost warm on my skin. I turn away, putting as much distance between me and that door so I don’t go running after her. I pace the bathroom like a caged animal, trying to get a grip on the storm twisting in my gut. Disappointment, irritation… humiliation.
After last night, I thought we’d broken through something real. But now? Now I know her head’s back on that idiot she calls a boyfriend, and I’m nothing more than a temporary escape.
I'm the head of the Bonanno family. I don’t take second place. I don’t play safe. I take what I want—and I don’t make room for regret. I grit my teeth and move on, letting the scalding shower burn away whatever frustration’s still clinging to me. By the time I’m done, there’s no sign of Cassie—no note, no goodbye—and I’m already regretting how I handled things.
But I barely make it down the stairs before I hear her laugh—light, musical, like it belongs to another world. It stops me in my tracks.
I follow the sound into the living room, where I find her perched on the edge of the couch, coffee in hand, laughing at something Hunter just said. They look like a pair of gossiping teenagers. Cozy and far too comfortable.
“What the fuck?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Cassie jolts upright, her coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Hunter just leans back, smirking like he’s been waitingfor this exact reaction. There's a pause—sharp, tense, vibrating with the kind of silence that speaks volumes.
Cassie won’t look at me. She’s fidgeting, guilty as hell, trying to shrink out of the moment. Meanwhile, Hunter’s doing everything he can to stir the pot, even wiggling his brows like a smug bastard.
“I gotta go,” Cassie says quickly, grabbing her things and bolting, leaving me standing there, jaw tight, eyes locked on Hunter.
“Chill out,” Hunter says, finally breaking the silent standoff. He rolls his eyes and straightens, casually brushing off his suit jacket like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “I was just keeping her company.”
“Whatever,” I mutter.
“I convinced her to stay,” he adds, more seriously now. “But you just scared her off.”
That stalls me. My steps falter mid-stride, and I turn back, narrowing my eyes at him.
“So what gives?” he asks, tone edging toward concern beneath the sarcasm.
“Like I’d fucking tell you,” I grunt, brushing past him and retreating into my office.
It’s a joke—mostly. But I’m not about to open up, not even to Hunter. The truth is, I don’t fully understand what the hell I’m feeling. Everything’s a mess. Cassie’s in the middle of it, and her dipshit of a boyfriend just blew the whole situation wide open.
Still... I’m glad she told me. Even if it took a push from her friend, the honesty matters. It’s the only thing that feels real in the middle of all this chaos.
When I step into my office, Trigger and Max are already in place, lounging in their usual spots like the kings of familiar territory. Trigger leans back, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, fingers drumming against the armrest with that barely-contained energy he always carries. Max is the opposite—stone-still, composed, scanning the room like he’s analyzing every inchfor potential threat. Always the quiet one, but never not watching.
Hunter strolls in behind me, all swagger and ease, and takes the opposite end of the couch from Trigger, stretching out like he owns the place. He’s smirking like he knows something we don’t, like every meeting is just another game to play. I don’t bother telling him to take this seriously—he’ll show up when it counts. That’s always been his way.
We’re still one short. Ryder hasn’t shown yet. No surprise there. If I know him—and I do—he’s either brooding over a text from his old man or rehearsing how to tell us bad news. Probably both. Either way, the tension in the room is already building, and the longer we wait, the worse it’s going to get.
I slouch into my chair behind my desk, already dreading the morning. It started off bad and it’s only going to get worse. I should’ve forced Cassie to stay—maybe she could’ve helped—but this is Five business. I can’t afford distractions.
Right on cue, Ryder storms in, his footsteps heavy with frustration. He slams the door, arms crossed and scowl deep—like a kid told no one’s coming to his birthday party.
I see too much of myself in Ryder. The pushy family, the rules, the expectations shoved down his throat since birth. He’s the heir to an empire his father refuses to relinquish. Just like mine. Trained from day one to rule—but only after bleeding for it. No wonder the guy’s always pissed.
With a brief nod in his direction, I start the meeting. The guys give their usual updates. Trigger’s talking about the Santos Gang down in Brooklyn. NYPD’s sniffing around, so he’s keeping his head down. That means we all need to stay sharp.
We’ve had a few scraps with Santos’ Gang—Colombian cartel. It’s nothing worth losing sleep over, but something in Trigger’s voice tells me this time might be different.
Hunter shifts the subject to another club opening. Max just shrugs when I glance his way. That’s as good as a green light from him, so I let it go.
