Page 2 of The Fall of a Promise

Yeah, that’sexactlywhat we’ll do, I almost tell her, but I bite my tongue.

“She had to run. Back-to-back meetings,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “But I’ll let her know.”

Ma nods in satisfaction as I run up to my childhood bedroom. Anya’s changed from the sweater dress into a casual lavender two-piece and white platform Adidas, packing up as I enter the room. She doesn’t look up as she organizes her bag. Much like myself, she avoids business attire if she can help it.

“Anya.” I lean against my old dresser.

Pausing, she takes a deep breath before turning around. “Nico.” She crosses her arms.

“Come here.”

She stalls, eyes narrowing before walking toward me.

I pull her into my arms, enjoying the sweet smell of her hair as she lays her head on my chest. “I have a lot that needs to get done, and it can’t wait until I get back.”

“How long are you going to be mad at me?”

Her head shoots up so fast I have to rear mine back to avoid a bloody nose. That earns me a glare. Anya and I haven’t been able to see eye to eye lately—and it’s not because of our height difference.

Actually, that’s an understatement. We can’t seem to stop fighting.

“Howlong?” she asks exasperatedly, putting her hands on her hips. “You continue to go against my wishes, Nico. Your family completely ignores my feelings, and you don’t even care.” She shrugs on a Sherpa trench coat and adjusts her long, dark hair.

“Of course I care, amore,love. How can you say that, I—”

“Don’t! It took me over an hour to get here. The interview that was also only supposed to last an hour lasted two, and now it’s going to take the same amount of time to get back. More than half my day is gone.”

“Look, I know you aren’t thrilled about the interviews, but—”

“Not thrilled? Nico, Ihatethese interviews andwe”—she rapidly points between us—“agreed to three interviews beforethe big day. Why was this the fifth?” I open my mouth to reply, but she cuts me off. “Don’t you dare say this is the last one, Nico. You said the same thing last time.”

“This is just what we have to do, Anya.”

Her eye roll could win awards, and the disappointment and dismay in her eyes guts me.

“We’ve discussed this as well. I don’t want a public image, Nico.”

“Thisisthe last one,” I tell her, grabbing her arms.

“Until when? Your mother springs another one on us with a list of reasons why we need to make an exception?”

“She won’t.”

“The point is, we had an agreement, andyoubroke it.” She points into my chest.

“It wasn’t me, babe. It was Ma—and don’t forget she didn’t discuss it with me, either.”

While my father has spent the last three decades cleaning up our businesses so that they are mostly legal, she’s been sculpting our public persona after the arrests and takedowns of prominent families during the nineties.

Once upon a time, made men were weak. They slept with too many whores, had too many children they didn’t know about, did too many drugs. They got sloppy and lazy, which cost them everything. When the five families dismantled, the Deluccis remained standing. Because we were smart. Those who didn’t go to prison or wanted to lose their lifestyle swore fealty to the Cosa Nostra, and now, we operate as one.

Giuseppe ruled with an iron fist, as Bash does now. The clubs and casinos keep our money clean. Our shipping company, Omni-Trade Logistics, keeps the products moving and our alliances compliant.

The rules are simple. The Omertà is our oath of silence. You must be willing to die before you trade the secrets of the CosaNostra. Our men are banned from doing drugs, and we monitor their gambling habits. While we don’t control their sex lives, discretion is advised if they want promotions.

“I don’t recall you being in the press this much before we met.”

“That’s because you didn’t pay attention to it. The wedding—”

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