"Technically, you don't know that," I interject before I can stop myself, then immediately regret drawing attention.
Marco's glare could freeze hell itself. He continues as if I hadn't spoken. "We hand her over and the ceasefire is called. Once the wedding happens and we enter negotiations, we can figure out how to clue Sofia in, make her a mole, and stage a coup. We'll take them down from the inside. Hell, we could get Sofia in on the plan now, her cooperation would make things a whole lot smoother."
"Find someone else," Vito orders, his tone final.
"Vito—"
"I said: find someone else! Don't make me repeat myself again."
His tone is final, demanding. Rafa and Marco launch like well-oiled gears in motion, following Vito's order. They know better than to press him when he gets that particular edge to his voice. I've seen what happens to men who don't recognize that tone.
Vito waits for their departure before turning back to me. "Call for Nico. We're meeting Rina for lunch at La Trattoria."
"Yes, boss," I reply, already dialing. As I arrange the details, my mind drifts back to that flicker of movement in the hallway.My gut tells me someone was listening—and there aren't many people with both access to this floor and reason to eavesdrop on this particular conversation.
I just hope for her sake that Sofia wasn't the one playing spy today.
CHAPTER 2
Sofia Gallo
Marco's voiceplays on a loop in my head as I hurry down the hallway away from the conference room. Loathing doesn't even begin to express how I feel about his suggestion. Sure Marco, hand me over to the Costellos. That's totally cool with me. I'll pack my bags right now!
I refuse to be a pawn—some bargaining chip in a game I never agreed to play in the first place. I did not survive abuse—burnings and beatings—at my father's hands just to be married off to someone from the rival family.
Things weren't always this bad between the Rossos and the Costellos. Things were fine for a while; Vito having made an agreement of peace with Mickey Costello—prior head of the Costello Clan. And then behind his father's back, Liam stole a shipment of weapons from Vito and ruined the truce his father had in place, successfully pitting the families against each other.
Ever since, the Costellos have done nothing but create mess after mess for the Rossos. After catching wind of Vito's marriage to my sister, Caterina, two years ago, the attacks only grew worse since Liam claimed Rina was meant to be his. Rina claims she's happy with Vito, but both of us rising through the ranks of oneof the strongest New York mafia families makes me wary. There hasn't been a day in my life I've been allowed to just be. Whether through my father or Vito, everything I've done has always been an order.
I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of being told what to do and when to do it.
I am a person, not some bitch they get to keep on a leash.
After the fiasco leading up to their wedding, Vito presented me with a position at one of the many "businesses" he operates as a peace offering. I can't say I feel all at peace; my father was by no means a good man, but there's nothing like a new job to say, "I'm sorry I murdered your father in front of you and forced your sister to marry me, but I hope this paycheck earned through corruption eases your anguish."
Even with her new title of Donna, I'm not sure Rina has the authority to change her husband's mind. The entire family runs off the patriarchy, and he would never hand over his own sister. Even if he chooses our cousin Elena, it's doubtful she is of high enough status to satisfy the demands—even if she were a virgin.
The elevator chime pulls me out of my thoughts; I'm too distracted to return to my work at RRE—Rosso Real Estate, headquarters of the Rosso group, so I jam my thumb in the button to go all the way down. A few dozen floors later, the doors open to the building's vast, empty lobby. My thoughts continue to race while my feet take me farther away from the bank of elevators and to the street.
I know I need to be careful. If I make any sudden moves now, they'll know I heard something I shouldn't have. Dante almost caught me outside that door—I'd barely ducked around the corner in time. The way his eyes had scanned the hallway, sharp and methodical, told me he suspected something.
It's too soon to run.
If I run now, Vito will know I heard something I shouldn't have. Though he claims to love and care for Rina now, I won't risk him taking out any anger he has toward me on her. If I suddenly go missing and screw over Vito, things probably won't blow over smoothly for her.
Spring melts away the remainder of Winter as the midday sun shines down on the pavement. I hold out my hand and jump into the first cab that pulls over. "Bay Ridge."
I will not let Don Vittore Rosso hand me over to Kieran Costello like a bargaining chip.
I will not be used.
What I need is a plan.
Baby pink shiplap surrounds me, suffocating me in its chipper facade. As my least favorite color, pink is never what I would have chosen, but every time I've asked to redecorate I've been told no. Two years living at the Greenhouse, and it still feels as much a prison as the day Mamma and I moved in. It's never been 'home,' and it never will be.
The Greenhouse is exactly what it sounds like—a sprawling estate on the Hudson River with more windows than walls. Mamma and I moved in here permanently upon Vito's marriage to Rina.
