“Alright, son? You look so serious.”
Lanton threw himself into the chair opposite me, his muscular thighs spread wide. A welcoming smile broke over my father’s face.
“Actually, perfect timing. Romeo, you can be present for this. I’ve decided we need to do more to make sure we own every market coming in through the bay. Lanton has a connection who can help us move into shipping bodies through the docks. Have you earmarked the location for the dancers? I’d prefer it somewhere on Lapilo Street because there are already a dozen second-rate dance clubs, and the chief isn’t ever going to okay a search, not if it means having to comb through ten of them.”
A gaping pit opened in my stomach. My father was getting us into the flesh trade. He’d always been expressly against the practice, insisting on drugs and guns only. He noticed my stiffness and clenched his jaw. Lanton pushed forward, oblivious.
“Got the perfect one. All it needs is some flashy shit on the walls to cover up the damp creeping in. I don’t think we’ll get any complaints, though.” He reached over and slapped my thigh, and they both burst into obnoxious laughter. I pressed my lips tight to stop from saying something I would regret. The power I thought I held was smoke in my grasping reach. An illusion.
“I’ve got a special dinner waiting for me tonight.” Lanton waggled his eyebrows.
In this moment he seemed so affable, but I knew what he did to those women. To his own wives.
“Is it that girl from the club I saw you with the other day? She was one of the prettiest blondes I’ve ever seen.”
Lanton smirked, and my blood turned to ice. My dad didn’t seem perturbed, curiously waiting for him to respond.
“No, no, Rosetta was the prettiest blonde, let’s be honest. God rest her soul. That other girl, she’s old news. It’s my wife, if you can believe it, trying to kiss my ass. She wants to cook me a three-course meal. I better let her, shouldn’t I, Romeo? Happy wife, happy life.”
My dad stared as I failed to respond. I knew what he was thinking. It was plain on his face. See? Lanton is harmless, and if his wife is cooking him dinner, she can’t be that upset about getting beat to a pulp. The gold ring on his pinkie glinted under the lamplight, and I wondered when everything had lost its sheen. I was a crime lord’s heir, but I felt like a ten-year-old boy again. Who wanted to play with his toys without someone ruining it. The sound of my mom’s name on Lanton’s lips mademy veins flood with liquid fire. It burned everything in its path. Scorching the belief I had about my father most of all.
In the ashes, there was only one thing left. The need for vengeance was glassy, obsidian, and heavy in the pit of my stomach.
I had to kill Lanton Vani. With my bare hands, if necessary.
11
Age 16
“Make sure you try one of these, Richard.” I held out a gilt-edged plate piled with treats. I looked at the entrance, which my mom had left strategically ajar. Enough that she could claim plausible denial but still allow a man to be alone with me. Richard slid down the couch, the insistent press of his thigh sending a roll of revulsion through me.
“I’d rather keep doing what we were before.” His fingers danced up my inner thigh, and I clamped them together. Trapping his hand. His smirk deepened as he wriggled his fingers. His tongue tasted of Earl Grey tea, lingering unwanted from his assault. My skin still crawled with the memory of his roving grasp. Fingers pinching and kneading at places I didn’t want him touching.
“I thought I heard my mom. Let’s finish this plate and maybe…” I ducked my head, hiding a glare. There would be nomaybeas soon as he finished that plate, he would regret evertouching me without asking. Richard leaned in, mistaking my fury for shyness.
“She won’t come back, trust me. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll do it. But this time, kiss me back. You don’t want to be a boring loser, do you?”
Better boring than half-dead.
Richard was about to feel the difference.
Maria handed me the phone, unable to hide her grimace at my soil-stained clothes. It was seven am, and I’d been in the greenhouse for hours already. Unable to sleep, I figured I could channel my energy into work. I’d been re-potting a few of my plants, separating the roots of a few to establish new ones. It was finicky work but satisfying.
“Mrs. Orazio speaking.” I pressed it to my ear, twisting the cord as Maria hovered. I waved her off with a thin-lipped smile. Paolo knew better than to call me, especially this early. I only communicated with him face to face, and I put nothing on paper. One couldn’t be too careful.
“I-I did what you suggested,” a woman sobbed down the line. Her disembodied cries made my nose wrinkle in distaste.
“Who is this?” I asked, letting the phone cord cut into my finger.
“It worked, but it didn’twork.” I almost hung up the phone, the sound of her wretched sobs made my insides twist. Until I recognized who it was, and why they were calling me.
Merissa. I had to cut her off before she said something damning.
“Do nothing. The pastry might need a personal touch. I’ll come and help you, make sure we get it perfect. Ok? Don’t touch a thing until I get there.”
A knot choked my throat as I slammed the phone down, not waiting for a response.
“Maria,” I shouted, knowing the maid was still lurking around. I had no qualms about who her loyalties lay with, and it certainly wasn’t me. I was careful never to mention anything about my true work. I didn’t need her running back to tell Romeo.
