Page 160 of Vicious Saint
I’ve spent a lot of this time conjuring up all the possible scenarios, close to every one of them involving the mafia family my father was affiliated with.
Or I guess,isaffiliated with.
Naturally, I asked Archer if he knew anything about what the Royal families could have going on, but he insisted he didn’t have a clue. Not even when I pressed him about Carlo, who did, in fact, come back squeaky clean when I looked his name up.
Archer talks, but never lies, so in the end I let it go and stuck with Google…not getting much out of it other than a vague article about tensions rising between the Salvinis and the Ivanovs.
Which I already expected to find, since the Italians and Russians have been at odds for a while.
What I didn’t expect on my trip down the rabbit hole, is not finding a single picture of the former head of the Salvinis, or one of the current. It made me really pissed at myself for never caring enough about due diligence after finding out about my dad.
I’ve got an elbow on the table, my temple resting against the palm of my hand, when Mom chirps, “So, are you kids excited to start school tomorrow?”
My gaze drifts to Saint, who’s eyes are drilling holes into Vic’s head, then to Theory, who although stays quiet, I can tell is counting down the minutes by her fresh haircut and small tinseled braids.
When it’s clear neither of them will be offering a response, I pick up my fork and twirl spaghetti around it. “Not really.”
“Oh, c’mon. Senior year is exciting.”
“Then you should enroll.”
“I just…” She looks down at her plate. “Forget it.”
I don’t need Auntie Pop’s current scolding to bring forth that guilt again, because it’s already eating away at me like I wish I could eat this damn spaghetti.
I blink Mom’s way. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby. I understand. I know you’ve been through a lot.”
“No, you’vebeen putting me through a lot.”
She gives me a sympathetic nod. “You’re right.”
“So then give her some fucking answers.” Saint spits the words, making his father slam a hand on the table.
“Saint Matthias. You willnotspeak this way to your stepmother.”
Saint looks like he wants to say just as much deplorable shit to his dad as I do my mom, but unlike me doesn’t hold back.
“I don’t give a fuck who she is if she’s lying to Hendrix.”
I freeze, equal parts horrified and appreciative as I watch my mom and aunt’s mouths gape from his harsh words.
His dad on the other hand, there’s rage, and an odd sense of pride in the look on his face. “We will be discussing this later.”
“Better make sure to loosen the nut belts first.”
“That’s it…” Vic stands, but my mother grabs him by the arm to pull him back down.
“I, for one, can’t wait to see my new dorm room!” Theory shouts frantically, as usual, trying to deescalate.
Vic’s eyes…I donotlike the way they’re closing. “Oh, I must’ve forgot to mention…”
No.
No.
Fucking no.
