Page 3 of Reckless Hearts

“What’s, the, ahh, state of your personal finances?”

I raise my eyes questioningly to Raph, who clears his throat.

“What I mean is, are you okay for money right now?”

I smile. “Oh, yeah, no, I’m totally fine.”

I’m totallyfuckedis what I am. Attending business school in New York takes up an enormous amount of my time. Which means I don’t have a job, at least not until I can secure an internship, which is part of my school program. Even if it’s paid—and that’s a big if—it will only pay peanuts anyway. So for now, my money for food, the nice clothes, my fancy apartment, and everything else, comes out of an allowance doled out by the trust that holds my mother’s and my money.

A trust that, as of five days ago, has been frozen, thanks to Gerard’s legal motions. Andthatmeans I’m going to be living off a credit card until, well, fuck knows when.

So. No, I’m not fine at all. And if Gerard manages to succeed in robbing us blind—and the prognosis on that isn’t great—I have less than zero idea how I’ll pay for school, or any of the rest of it.

Raph gives me a look. “Just ask.”

“For?”

“Money, my dear.”

I wave him off. “Raph, I’m totally fine, but thank—”

“My God, you’re as stubborn as you are proud, aren’t you?”

Yes.

“Raph, I don’t need your charity.”

“Oh, it’s not a gift, honey,” he grins. “It’d be a loan. And I charge a steep interest rate.”

I smile as I pat his hand. “I’m good. Really. But thank you. I appreciate the gesture so much. You have no idea.”

He lifts his shoulders and hands elegantly in surrender as I glance at my watch.

“Shit, I’ve gotta run,” I hiss before downing the rest of my wine in one gulp.

“Ahh, yes, to your mafioso friends,” Raph sighs.

I give him a look. “Really? As if your dad isn’t good buddies with Andre LeBlanc, not to mention the rest of the French mafia.”

“Yes, dear, but I don’t get invited to their twenty-first birthday parties, now do I?”

Touche.

Raph grins. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Dahlia. I’m happy that you’ve found this little tribe of yours. You deserve it: I hope you know that.”

I smile as I pat his hand. “Thanks, Raph.”

I haven’t historically done the most spectacular job of making friends. When I was a kid, it was mostly just my mom and I, and of course Aunt Celeste and Uncle Adrian. School wasn’t usually a barrel of laughs, either. When everyone knows the sordid tale of your conception, not to mention your family ties to British mafia legend Adrian Cross, they’re not exactly lining up to make friends with you.

When mom met Gerard, his connections and her money got me into the infamous Knightsblood University here in the US, which Raph attended a year ahead of me. But even there, in a schoolnotoriousfor its student body full of mafia heirs, I was the weird one, an outcast.

And then I was literally cast out.

Byhim.

But then, a year ago, I found real friendship with an awesome girl in my program—Eilish Kildare, an Irish mafia princess and all-around incredible friend. We clicked immediately, and she and her older sister Neve and I have been close ever since. And through them, I also became great friends with their sister-in-law, theGreekmafia princess whose twenty-first birthday party I’m on my way to tonight.

That’s where things get complicated.

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