She huffs, crossing her arms and shifting to look out the window. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"So, it wasn't you I heard sneaking through the hallway?" I'm playing a dangerous game, potentially giving her information that's meant to remain in the room. If I'm right though, she already knows. Her reaction to my next words will tell me as much. If I'm wrong, we're both going to get our asses handed to us by Vito. "You weren't listening in when Vito read the latest settlement offer?"
The muscle in her jaw pulls taut, and the glower she turns on Marco is answer enough seeing as he's the one who threw her name into the running.
"I am so sick of my fate being decided by someone else," she spits. "I don't care what any of you have planned. I will not be used as a goddamn bargaining chip just because my brother-in-law is pissed that another powerful family wants to launder money in the same state."
"The Costellos aren't into money laundering," Marco points out, deadpanning as if it's a widely known fact. "They're more into drug trafficking and contract killing." I hit the back of his seat, signaling for him to shut up. Now is not the time for a Crime Family 101 lesson.
"Whatever, I don't care. I don't want to be part of it for Vito, and I certainly don't want to be married off to some Costello asshole to end up with the same fate as my sister. Not everyone wants to be associated with the Mafia, you know."
Her ferocity takes me aback. Up until now, Sofia has flown under everyone's radar as the new mafia princess—the quiet, shy younger sister of our new Donna. Seeing her now—angry, upset, and acting on what she wants—is something I never thought any of us would see. Much like her refusing my demand at the club, her behavior is refreshing and exasperating all within the same breath. I don't know if I love it or hate it, but either way she's making my job tonight very difficult.
Nico makes the final turn into the parking garage. There is no doubt Vito is going to be pissed Sofia tried to take matters into her own hands once he receives the full explanation. My only hope is he doesn't act out of anger and hand her over to the Costellos by dawn.
I steal one last glance at Sofia's profile against the window. The streetlights outside cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting the defiant set of her jaw. Despite everything, I can't help but admire her nerve. Most people in this city would rather jump off the Brooklyn Bridge than defy the Rosso family.
But not Sofia Gallo. No, this princess has claws.
CHAPTER 5
Sofia
Ninety-six floors later,Dante and Marco escort me to the dining room of Vito and Rina's penthouse. Dante's fingers are wrapped tightly around my right elbow while Marco is on my left. They don't drag me like they would anyone else, but they are rather heavy handed when pulling me out of the elevator to the long table where Vito sits at the head, already waiting.
Shit.
My sister sits on his left, a mix of exhaustion and concern tugging at her eyebrows. "What the hell, Sof?—"
Vito raises two fingers, cutting Rina off with a mere flick of his wrist. Clenching my teeth, my fingers curl into tight fists, causing my nails to dig mercilessly into my palm. Thank you Vito, for giving me another example of what I don't want my life to turn into. I won't be silenced by a dismissive wave.
Letting go of my arm, Marco moves to take the seat to the right of Vito. Vito has yet to speak, but he nods at Dante before gesturing to the seat directly across from him. With his free hand, Dante pulls out the chair and loosens his grip to give me the chance to sit on my own. I don't move. Standing, I hold Vito's stare, making it clear I will not be following his orders.
"Sofia," Rina hisses. "Sit."
Keeping my silence, my eyes remain locked on my dear brother-in-law. A muscle in his jaw goes taut and he gives Dante another nod. Despite the controlled frustration in his movements, Dante's hands are otherwise gentle when he moves from the crook of my elbow to the top of my shoulder and pushes me down into the chair. Whether it's protocol or an intimidation tactic, Dante remains standing behind my seat.
Vito scratches his chin, thrumming his fingers on the table with his other hand. Despite his stoic expression, his fury is visible in his reddening ears. If he's waiting for me to be the one to break our silence, we are going to be here all night. If he's wanting an apology, we'll be here even longer. Don Vito may be willing to go low, but I'm willing to go to hell.
He lets out a long sigh before putting his hands together and resting them on the table. "Sofia."
"Vito." His name is like venom on my tongue, souring my entire mouth when I speak.
"Please enlighten me as to what the fuck is going through your head tonight?"
My sister mumbles something to her husband before placing a hand on his. He takes a deep breath, looking away from me momentarily to keep himself in check. Not going to lie, getting Vito to listen to someone else is a refreshing change of pace. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking.
"What do you know?" He asks, remaining on topic but nonetheless changing his question.
"Enough," I answer, wanting to get a little more under his skin before I start cooperating. He may not have all the power with this interaction, but there's only so much my sister can do to keep him under control before he snaps. I repress another smirk at the twitching muscle in his jaw from across the table.
His next words are spoken through clenched teeth. "Believe it or not Sofia, I am trying to protect you."
"By marrying me off to one of the Costello cunts," I hiss, using the same term he used when reading their demands, letting him know I'm not naïve to the current situation. "Yeah, I'm sure that's the exact protection detail I need, thank you so much."
Vito clenches his fists and closes his eyes, turning his head toward the table while working to maintain his composure. "I see. Well, I suppose if you're in the know, there's no point in dancing around the problem. Yes, Kieran Costello is demanding a virgin bride; and yes, you were brought into the conversation as a proposed solution?—"
I scoff. Proposed solution. Like I'm some bargaining chip they can throw on the table.
