Page 17 of Dark Prince

“Shut up, Lorenzo, before I decide to kick your ass myself instead of letting Domenico and Sienna do it for me.” Someone crowds my back, towering over me. “Hell, maybe I’ll have Matteo show you why he hasn’t lost a fight in over two years.”

“I don’t waste my time with someone I can take out without breaking a sweat.” I make a humph noise with my throat at Matteo’s jab. Everyone under estimates Lorenzo, which in a way isn’t a bad thing, but it still pisses me off.

“Our time is coming, punchy,” Ren confirms, making me bite back a smile. Every time Krishna refers to Matteo, he always uses that term. It makes me wonder if Ren picked it up from him to get a rise out of the boxing champion. “You don’t get to ignore my sister for years and suddenly you get interested as soon as you find out who she really is. Fuck that noise.”

“At least he knows how to ask for her hand in marriage like a man,” Tony chimes in. “Did you man up and request the same from Mischa Nikolayev? No, you didn’t. Instead, you stole something that wasn’t yours for the taking, Lorenzo.”

Ren’s sneer jerks from where Matteo still stands at my back to his father with his arm lifting. He points in my direction. “I didn’t steal a damn thing. She has been mine since we were fourteen.”

“So now it’s a ten-year lie instead of two. Awesome, Ren. Glad to know just where I stand with my twin brother,” Sienna says with equal amounts of anger and hurt.

“It’s not like that, Si,” he stresses.

“Funny,” Dom finally speaks. “Sure as hell comes across that way.” Setting his mug down, he walks my way, his eyes darkening with something I can’t read. His stare alone makes me want to cower, but I don’t. Instead, I steel my spine and push my shoulders back. I know he and my brother have something going on the same way Sienna wasn’t blind. She knew there was something between Ren and me. She just didn’t want to admit it.

Domenico stops beside where Brooklyn still stands with her arms crossed. I have to hand it to the kid, she has conviction. Her standoff and brooding stare haven’t budged since I was sprawled out on the floor, not even with all the back and forth arguing from the Caputo clan.

“Come on, Brooklyn,” Dom commands. “It’s too early to be dealing with these people. You deserve a reward for that little display. Let’s go watch real scary people in movies, not these jokes.”

“What display?” Matteo questions. “Brooklyn, what did you do?”

“Me?” Her mouth falls open as Dom scoops her up like it’s something he does on the regular, but to me, it seems completely out of character.

“She handled a situation.” Domenico’s black eyes that match his soul flick to me. “Before I did. You should thank her, vor.”

Did he just call me a goddamn thief or enemy, or both in Russian? I’m not well versed in my father’s native tongue, but I know enough to get the gist of a conversation. I can’t speak it for the most part, and I can’t write in Russian, but I know specific terms from being around my father and his business associates for far too long in my soon to be twenty-four years. Ren and Sienna are older than me by two months.

“If you aren’t going to address me by my God-given name, then at least call me by my stage name. You know it, right? You’ve been to the club a time or two.”

“Nah, it’s either vor or suka.” A sinister smile creeps up his lips. “Those are the only fitting terms I can come up with.”

A bitch-ass traitor is far worse than being deemed a thief. At least a thief has a chance at redemption. A turncoat does not, which I am not. I’ve done nothing to lead anyone to believe that. I may hate my father and could literally turn over evidence to the authorities that would put him away for the rest of his life, but I would never do it.

If there is one lesson I took away from Mischa Nikolayev, it’s that loyalty is everything and the only thing you should ever seek. Love? I scoff. Love will get you motherfucking killed in my world. As much as I despise my father for running my mother out of New York—away from her kids, except the few times a year we see her—it probably saved her life in the long run. There is still a part of me that’s surprised he didn’t kill her instead of divorcing her when he was done with her. That’s what my people do, and that’s a fate I never want for myself.

I could say I married Lorenzo to ensure that wouldn’t happen, but that claim would be a lie. Deep down, I know exactly why I said those two little words. I do. I just can’t allow anyone else to know that reason, and for that, I can’t let it show on my face, roll off my tongue, or shine through my eyes.

“Call me a traitor or a thief again and we’re going to have a problem, brother,” I sneer, purposely reminding him that I’m more family than the girl he’s holding in his arm or the beast at my back. The ink has been dry on my marriage license for years. Sienna hasn’t been wearing her ring for even twenty-four hours.

Hell, when that girl’s gold-digging mother finds out about Matteo and Sienna’s engagement, there is no telling what that bitch will do to ensure no one takes her pot of gold from her. Ha. She probably already knows if my social media stunt turned out anything like Tony claimed. I may even have to pay her a little visit to make sure she keeps her crazy in check. Now that I’m in the middle of this bullshit, I’m not dealing with more than I have to.

“Make no mistake about it, vor, your initiation into this family is coming. You have to earn your place here—something you’ve yet to do—and I intend to pave your way myself.”

“Watch it, Dom,” Ren warns.

Domenico glances over his shoulder as he switches Brooklyn to his other side. “I’m not the one that will be watching anything, little brother. You’ll have a front-row seat to the event. That I fucking promise.”

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