My stomach twists at the mention of Aria. “I guessed as much when I ran into her fiancé outside.”
His jaw tenses as he rolls the tobacco between his fingers. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”
My mouth pops open. “I’m not.”
I am.
“I just…I’m surprised. It’s been what, six years?”
Uncle T nods. “People always come home to their roots. In the end, family’s the only thing that matters.”
Aria is the same age as me and a bona fide daddy’s girl. She’s the princess of the Kingston family and, as a result, the princess of Atlantic Cove.
I think everyone in town expected Uncle T to go to Manhattan himself and drag her back when she ran off, but he never did. Instead, he’d send me to “check up on her.”
Now there’s no need. Not with her engaged to a man like Enzo Marino.
“So why’s she back?” I ask nonchalantly, clicking my nails on the arm of the chair.
“I’m throwing them an engagement party.” He grins widely.
A short huff of breath escapes me. “You can’t be serious.”
“And why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know…”
Idoknow.
Enzo’s reputation precedes him, even all the way down here in South Carolina. He’s the son of Carlos Marino, the man who is rumored to have singlehandedly usurped the Italian American Commission of the Mafia and brought back thecapo di tutti capi, taking on the role of “boss of all bosses” for himself.
The thought of mixing our families makes my gut sour, and knowing Uncle T agreed to this marriage arrangement with Carlos puts me on edge.
Plus, Aria doesn’t even realize itisan arranged marriage.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” I prod.
“I don’t keep you around to question me,” he states plainly.
“I’m only looking out for us,” I continue. “You know how messy this could get if things don’t work out? Enzo’s a powerful man, sure, but do you really want him with yourdaughter? When have our interests ever aligned with the Marinos’?”
Uncle T’s head tilts. “And what wouldyouknow about our interests?”
I think I know a damn well decent amount considering everything he’s had me do, but I swallow the words I really want to say and shake my head instead. “Never mind. I just thought because of our past?—”
“Enough,” he interrupts.
I can tell I’m irritating him because the corner of his mouth twitches in time with the clenching of his jaw. “This isgoodfor the family, for our business. You understand?”
Apparently, I’ve got a death wish today because I can’t help the next words from tumbling out. “I just think it’s risky. Having a Marino around when we have so many secrets is?—”
“Do I not provide for you?” he snips.
Guilt churns in my abdomen. “You do,” I say carefully.
“When your momma died, may she rest in peace, did I not give you the world? Do I not continue to give you what you ask for, despite it not being the best option forme? Bringing you into the fold no matter how much trouble you cause. Buying you shitty Southside bars and letting you run them into the ground.”
Ouch.That one stings. He’s referencing the restaurant I manage: the Lair. It’s dark and seedy and means absolutely everything to me.
