Page 18 of Shadows of Steel
The question hits like a blow, his tone cold and ruthless. A million emotions flit across his face, anger, disbelief, confusion, and something softer, something almost vulnerable. As if he’s replaying every interaction we’ve ever had in his mind, trying to reconcile the woman standing before him with the one he thought he knew.
“If you’re insinuating that I knew who you were to me, let me correct you, I didn’t,” I reply coolly. “And let’s get one thing straight, Enzo, I never begged you for a job. You offered. The fact that your gym was the closest to my apartment, or that I chose Palermo at all was purely happenstance.”
His gaze sharpens, suspicion carved into every hard line of his expression.
“Still,” I continue, lifting my chin just slightly, refusing to let his scrutiny unsettle me. “The moment you said your name, I knew exactly who you were—who your father is, the power behind it. Your family is no mystery to me, just as countless others aren’t. I was raised in this world too.”
Enzo doesn’t look convinced. His jaw tenses, his sharp eyes locked onto mine with a calculating intensity. “Convenient.” Hemurmurs darkly, scepticism lacing his tone. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Harlow.”
Michael steps forward, his posture rigid, his cold, unrelenting gaze boring into Enzo. “What the fuck are you implying? That I sent my cousin to spy on you?” His voice drops to a dangerous growl, each word laced with venom. “Be very fucking careful about the next words out of your mouth. You don’t get to throw around accusations like that, not unless you’re ready to deal with the kind of hell I’ll bring down on you.”
The men in the room shift uneasily, the atmosphere thickening further. I catch the movement of hands drifting closer to weapons, shoulders squaring as if ready for a fight.
“Enough,” Giovanni says sharply, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade. He steps between them, his commanding presence halting the spiral before it gets out of control.
“We are not implying anything.” Giovanni says firmly, casting a pointed look in Enzo’s direction. His tone is steady, but there’s no mistaking the warning in his gaze.
Enzo’s jaw clenches, but he steps back.
“Fuck this.” He says bitterly, his tone biting. “I just find out my employee, my coworker, the woman I’ve spent months training, is my fucking sister.” He spits the word like it burns. Then turns and leaves the room, the door snaps closed behind him with a thud that almost makes me flinch of how loud it is.
Before either of us can say a word, Giovanni clears his throat. “Harlow, meet Darion and Niccolò, your other brothers.”
The eldest, Darion, steps forward first. I already know exactly who he is, who all of them are. It’s a lesson my grandfather instilled in us from a young age, always be prepared. He made sure we memorized every face in our world, ingraining them in our minds until recognition became second nature.
Darion’s presence is commanding, his stance cold. His dark brown hair is neatly combed back, and his deep brown eyes are sharp, intense, demanding respect with a single look. Tall and powerfully built, his imposing frame is accentuated by a tailored suit that fits him with absolute precision, undoubtedly made just for him. He studies me for a moment, his gaze narrowing as if trying to see straight through me. When he extends his hand, his grip is firm, almost testing.
“So,” he says, his voice smooth yet sceptical, “you’ve been working with Enzo. Now, that’s an interesting alignment of circumstances.”
I exhale slowly, weary of the constant accusations. “It wasn’t intentional,” I reply evenly, holding his piercing gaze. “I had no idea your family had any connection to mine.”
Darion leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a quiet menace. “I don’t believe in chance, Harlow. Not in our world. Everyone has motives, whether they choose to admit them or not.”
I feel Michael stiffen behind me, his presence radiating barely contained rage, ready to rip my now brother’s head clean off. But Darion doesn’t flinch. Instead, he meets Michael’s murderous stare head-on, his lips curling into the faintest shadow of a taunt.
“Maybe you don’t believe in coincidences.” I reply, lifting my chin. “But they do happen. I didn’t choose to leave Chicago, that decision was forced on me by the circumstances.”
For a moment, his eyes search mine, as if looking for cracks in my resolve. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, until he finally straightens, giving a curt nod. “Very well.”
Niccolò steps forward next, his presence a stark contrast to the strain hanging in the air. Like Darion, his dark brown hair is similar in shade, but his is tousled, falling into his eyes with a carelessness that gives him a deceptively unkempt look. Thoughslightly shorter than his brothers, he still towers over most, his presence commanding in a way that is uniquely his own.
The resemblance between him and Darion is undeniable, there’s no mistaking their shared blood, but Niccolò’s striking light green eyes set him apart. His boyish charm and easy smile might seem disarming at first glance, but there’s a dangerous glint behind his gaze, a silent warning of the sharp edges honed by the world we were born into. Out of all of them, he is the closest to me in age.
“So, here’s dad’s long-lost daughter,” Niccolò remarks, his voice smooth yet edged with something sharper. He takes my hand, his grip firm though not as harsh as Darion’s. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much.”
A faint smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flickers over me, his words laced with a subtle challenge. “I’d say welcome to the family, but I think we’re all still trying to figure out what that even means.”
“Likewise.” I reply. “Your reputation precedes you.”
His brow lifts, amusement glinting in his eyes as his smirk deepens. “Is that so? And what, pray tell, have you heard?”
“You know,” I say, a touch of humour slipping into my voice. “Just the usual gossip that floats around about Niccolò Ricci. Nothing good.”
He chuckles, low and quiet. “Ah. Well, don’t believe everything you hear.”
As Niccolò steps aside, my gaze collides with Dante’s, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades into insignificance. I’d almost forgotten he was here, standing like he doesn’t have a single care in the world, a smirk tugging lazily at the corner of his mouth.
He’s enjoying this.
