"Nope. Some politician? I don’t give a crap about politics, it’s all garbage." I shrug and stab a shrimp with my fork.
"First off, that chubby dude is my uncle Carl. He’s a lawyer, like half my family. And that group?" He leans in and drops his voice to a dramatic, conspiratorial whisper. "That’s the Ferros."
My eyebrows go up.
Who hasn’t heard of the Ferros?
The biggest mafia family in the city. They’ve already wiped out two rival gangs, and now it’s just them versus the Russians. Their boss has a reputation. Cautious but ruthless. He took the family to the top. The previous capos were a mess, constantly fighting other mobsters and never getting anywhere.
"Well damn, look at you taking me to the mob’s favorite lunch spot," I snort, but I’m not even mad. Finally, something interesting in this boring-ass day.
"Sorry, I didn’t know the fucking mafia comes here," Martin hunches over his plate like he’s trying to disappear.
"So what now? Should we go say hi to your uncle?" I smirk, mostly just to annoy him.
"Have you lost your damn mind?!" he explodes. "I’m not saying hi to my uncle while he’s talking to the freakingcapo di tutti capi!"
But I’m already standing. Why the hell not? I’ve always been chasing something to fill this empty pit inside me. Maybe it’s time to stir things up a little.
I yank him by the arm, and even though his whole body screamswhat the fuck is happening, he follows, reluctantly, swearing under his breath.
We stop at the table, and all the men look up at us.
My boyfriend gulps and mutters, "Oh, hey Uncle, just wanted to say hi. Everything good with you?" His voice is all apologetic. Chicken.
Martin’s uncle just stares at him and blinks, shocked that his nephew’s walking up to him at a table full of mobsters like it’s a backyard barbecue.
Meanwhile, my gaze lands on the black-haired beta’s face. Now that I know who he is, I take a good look. Gotta admit, he’s holding up pretty well for someone well into his forties.
Anzo’s dark eyes meet mine. They lock onto my face, totally still, unreadable. But wait, there it is. A flicker. Just a shadow of curiosity hiding in that cold stare. I can always recognize it, with sharp precision.
I give him a smile…the smile. The one I’ve perfected. The one that works every damn time. All those guys who claim they’re only into omegas? One look paired with that smile, and suddenly they’re into me too. A ‘pretty’ alpha. I’m famous for it on Insta. Not much competition in my subgender. I fight omega models for views and followers.
The capo keeps that unfazed face, but I know fake indifference when I see it. And I know what’s underneath it.
So, as always, I don’t break eye contact. I just keep looking, lids half-lowered like a promise of bliss.
In the background, Martin’s uncle finally says,
"I’m fine, fine. But Martin, you need to let us get back to our business. This is an important meeting."
His voice is tense, and the look he throws Anzo is submissive, practically begging for forgiveness.
The two younger guys at the table glance at me too. The alpha with the scar has the same intensity in his gaze as Anzo, maybe even more forceful. But the giant? Nothing. Zero. He looks right through me like I’m just another piece of furniture. Then he glances at Martin. It’s obvious, he’s just taking mentalattendance. No spark. No reaction. Huh. Interesting. Maybe he’s taken? But that usually doesn’t matter.
"Sorry, Uncle, but Sun insisted," Martin mutters, throwing me under the bus with a glare sharp enough to kill.
Like I care. Let him toss me to the wolves. Anyway, I’m so over him.
"We’re leaving now. Sorry for the interruption," Martin adds, practically bowing like one of the waiters earlier, his head almost slamming into the damn table. Pathetic little bug.
But just as we’re turning away, a voice stops us.
"You’re pretty, Sun."
Whoa. A compliment from the mob boss himself. Anzo’s eyes are still locked on my face.
"Thanks," I say, throwing him a wink. "You’re kinda hot too. And cold at the same time."
