By Any Other Name

  "Jesus Christ." Gavin looked at him incredulously. "Some shit's not meant to be had. No matter how pretty it is, you can't try to tame a wild animal and expect to survive."

  Matty shrugged. "I've done pretty good at surviving."

  "You've either got a lot of guts or no brains, and based on the fact that your preppy ass went to Princeton, I'm wondering how the hell you walk around carrying such big balls." Gavin put the lid on his water as he stood up and faced Matty, eyeing him peculiarly. "The Prodigal Son and the Ice Princess, huh? Sounds like a terrible fairy tale. You know, the kind where the big bad wolf eats everybody in the end."

  Despite himself, Matty laughed at that. "It does."

  "So you're in deep and you don't know what to do about it," Gavin continued. "You want my advice? Is that what you want?"

  "Yes."

  "Get the hell out."

  Matty's expression fell. "What?"

  "I don't mean walk away from her. I mean get out of this… the life, everything you came back to but I know you don't want. Walk away from it. Your father will be pissed, but come on… let's be real… when isn't Uncle Bobby pissed at you?"

  Matty couldn't seem to remember a time the man wasn't at least disappointed. He had never lived up to his standards, and even if he stuck around, he knew he never would. His heart wasn’t into it. He couldn't follow in his father's footsteps.

  Gavin lightly punched his shoulder. "Come on, let's go have a drink and commiserate. I'll even let you buy."

  "Thanks." Matty laughed as he pulled out his keys. "Why are we commiserating?"

  "Because of beautiful women and the hell they put us through."

  "Speaking of which, whatever happened to your girl?" Matty asked curiously. "The one you were warned away from?"

  "Ah." Gavin shrugged. "Guess she ended up wherever she was meant to be."

  "How'd you learn how to play?" Matty asked, shifting the cue stick from hand-to-hand, his eyes on Genna and not the pool table. She shrugged, trying to keep her focus on the game, but he wasn't making it easy.

  Fucking attractive man and his goddamn distracting eyes.

  She lined up, gracefully striking the cue ball, the loud crack echoing through the otherwise quiet apartment as the vibrant red ball flew into the side pocket. Her eyes flickered to his, drinking in the genuine curiosity. "Dante taught me."

  "He must be pretty good."

  "The best," she confirmed, knocking the cue ball into the green one. It hit the corner, bouncing right back. Damn.

  Matty scoffed. "I wouldn't go that far. I like to think I'm the best."

  "That's not thinking," she said¸ clutching the cue stick with both hands in front of her as she eyed him. "That's dreaming. And dream on, buddy. My brother is definitely better than you."

  "How do you figure?"

  "I can't beat him, but I can beat you."

  "You've never beat me."

  "But I could."

  "You wanna bet?"

  Genna watched as he hit the black eight ball, knocking it in the corner pocket and ending that game. He was undoubtedly good. In another life, it would've been amazing to watch him and Dante in a match.

  "Okay," she said. "What are we betting?"

  "Whatever you want," he said, smirking. "Except for my car."

  "Ah, man." She dramatically frowned. "What about the watch?"

  He cast a glance at his Rolex. "Fine. But if I win, I want your panties."

  Her eyes widened. "What?"

  He stepped toward her, their toes touching, his nose brushing against hers before he softly pressed his lips to hers. "I want your panties." Another kiss. "In your mouth." Another kiss. "Gagging you." Another kiss. "As I fuck you from behind."

  Oh. My. God. Genna shoved away from him, her cheeks burning at the mental images that flashed through her mind. Matty merely chuckled, studiously racking the balls for the next game.

  "We have a deal?" he asked.

  "Yep." She had no intention of losing, so it didn't matter what he wanted. That watch was about to be hers.

  He motioned toward the table. "Ladies first."

  "You sure?" she asked. "I don't want you crying foul when I win because you let me go first."

  "I won't cry nothing. Go, princess." He winked. "I always heard you were good at breaking balls."

  She rolled her eyes as she took her first try, breaking hard but scoring nothing, the cue ball flying into a side pocket instead. Groaning, she brusquely waved for him to go. She was off to a bad start.

  Smirking, Matty took a turn, sinking a striped ball. He always went for the stripes, she noticed. Back and forth they went, both intently focused on the game, scoring until all that was left was the black eight ball.

  Matty's turn. Ugh.

  "Eight ball, corner pocket," he declared, self-assured, bordering on cocky, as he motioned toward the pocket diagonal from him. He lined up, taking his time. He struck it, the ball soaring that way, angled slightly too far left. It hit the edge hard, ricocheting back, and rolled straight into the side pocket right in front of Genna.

  His smug expression fell as her lips curved into a grin. Wrong pocket.

  "I won," Genna declared.

  Matty cursed under his breath, tossing his stick aside as he strolled toward her, carefully unfastening his watch. He pulled it off, holding it up by the band and dangling it in front of her. "I guess you did."

  "Don't look so surprised," she said, snatching the Rolex with a laugh and quickly putting it on as she leaned back against the table. The watch was gaudy, heavy and overwhelming on her frail wrist, but she wore it with pride. "This is real, right? It's not, like, gonna turn my wrist green and make my hand fall off, is it?"

  "Of course it's real. It was a graduation present."

  "Well, it's mine now, since I schooled you." She grinned. "Told you I'd beat you."

  "You didn't beat me. I lost. There's a difference."

  She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

  "And I think, since you didn't beat me, I should get what I want, too."

  "You think so?"

  "Mmmm, I do," he declared, pausing right in front of her, pinning her there. His hands stroked her hips before drifting further down and shoving her skirt up toward her waist. He slowly caressed the bare skin as he hooked his fingers on the sides of her black thong. Smirking, he crouched down in front of her, tugging the flimsy material down her thighs. Genna put up no fight, staring down at him as she lifted her feet so he could pull them off, his movements agonizingly slow, fingertips leaving searing trails along her skin. It never failed to mesmerize her how his simple touch ignited fire in her.

  Standing back up, he held the lacy material up in front of her face. "Open wide."

  Her lips parted, a seductive smirk curving her mouth as she leaned closer to him, whispering, "fuck you."

  He didn't balk, mirroring her movement as he replied, "I think the deal was that I fuck you."

  Squealing, Genna shoved away from him to duck out of his reach. Matty grabbed ahold of her, strong hands holding her there, playfully trying to turn her over as she shrieked and wiggled. The two wrestled, their laughter echoing through the apartment as she managed to sneakily slip away. He spun around fast, going after her, as she let out another squeal, her heart racing.

  "Oh no you—"

  Matty didn't have the chance to finish. 'Don't' was halfway from his lips when the front door of the apartment abruptly swung open. Genna stalled, turning that way, her blood running cold. Matty stepped in front of her protectively, his stance suddenly defensive.

  The vaguely familiar voice struck Genna seconds before she saw his face. Enzo.

  "Yo, Matty, I saw your car parked downstairs and thought I'd—" Enzo stepped into the apartment, freezing, his words faltering and tone turning cold. "—say hey."

  Enzo blinked rapidly, staring at her from a mere few feet away. Genna's vision blurred as the blood furiously pumped through her body, scorching her veins. Bile rose up, burning her throat, as
she tried to swallow back the fear. She could only gape at him, wide-eyed, and Enzo stared back, purposely taking a step to the side to look past his brother, dead in her face.

  From the corner of her eye, Genna saw Matty quickly slip her thong in his pocket as he took a proactive step toward his brother. The movement drew Enzo's attention. He forced his gaze away from Genna as he shifted back and forth between anger and disbelief, brow furrowing simultaneously as his nostrils flared.

  "Calm down," Matty said, staring his brother straight in the eyes, before Enzo even said a word. The confusion faded from his expression, the anger winning.

  Oh shit.

  "What the fuck's going on here?" Enzo ground out, pointing at Genna. "Do you know who that girl is? Do you?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Of course you do!" Enzo spat, clearly not interested in his brother's answer. "I remember telling you who she was! So why is she here? Huh? What the hell is that girl doing here?"

  "I brought her here."

  "You brought her here? Her? Why would you do that? What the fuck's wrong with you? Why would you even...? How would you...? When did you...?" Enzo's anger was overtaken by shock as his posture stiffened, his large hands grasping the side of his head, like the reality was dangerously close to blowing his mind. "Her? She's the one? God, please fucking tell me the girl you've been going on about isn't her!"

  "Calm down."

  That seemed to be answer enough for Enzo. All at once, he shifted his body toward Genna, taking a hasty step toward her, accusingly pointing. "You. I don't know what game you're playing here, but you've fucked up. Big time. Because I swear to Christ, Galante, I will—"

  Genna's stomach lurched. This had been her worst fear. Seeing the revulsion in Enzo's eyes, hearing the threatening tone to his words, his voice so enraged it quivered... Genna wanted to evaporate from the room, out of sight. Fear like no other coated her insides. She felt like a wounded animal. Fight or flight. Her father always taught her to stand up for herself, but when it came to the Barsantis? Motherfucking run.

  Before she could figure out a way out of the apartment—running past him and out the door, or a flying leap straight out of the closest window—Matty intervened, cutting Enzo off, an authoritative edge to his words as he snatched ahold of his brother's shirt collar and viciously yanked him toward him, pulling his attention momentarily away.

  "Calm down." Matty's jaw clenched as he ground out the words. "Or get the hell out."

  "Get out?" Enzo forced Matty's hands off his shirt and shoved him. "I live here. And you brought her here, to my home!"

  "Our home," Matty corrected him. "I live here, too."

  "Like that makes it any better!" Enzo threw his hands up in disbelief. "She's one of them!"

  Matty sighed exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair. "Look, just… calm down, okay?"

  "Calm down?" Enzo repeated. "Stop telling me to calm down! I'm fucking calm!"

  He was the furthest thing from calm Genna had ever seen, his movements jerky as he waved all around, like he wasn't sure what the hell to focus on. His cheeks were growing red from agitation as sweat formed along his brow.

  Carefully, Matty reached out toward Genna, and she didn't resist when he pulled her to him. His arms wrapped tightly around her as she stood in front of him, grasping his inked forearms so hard her nails dug into his skin, her knuckles bright white from the strain. Enzo's disapproving gaze burned through her.

  "I told her she couldn't judge you because she'd never met you," Matty said evenly. "I told her you weren't the asshole she was raised to believe you were. Don't prove me wrong, En. Don't make her believe I lied."

  Enzo closed his eyes briefly as he blew out a deep breath. Irritation still skirted his expression when he reopened his eyes, but his posture relaxed, his fists unclenching. "She should."

  "Should what?" Matty asked.

  "Should believe you lied. She should think I'm that asshole. She should judge me, because it's better that way. She ought to be afraid of me, ought to be scared of what I could do to her, what looking at her pretty little face makes me want to do." Enzo's gaze shifted to Genna, calmer, but there was no warmth in his expression. Genna shivered at the coldness of his words. "Because if she doesn't fear me, then she's a threat… to me, to you, to all of us. If she's not terrified, then she's the dangerous one."

  "She's not a threat."

  "How do you know?"

  "I just do. Do you think I'd bring her here if she was?"

  Enzo shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know why you brought her here. Maybe you forgot how things worked. Maybe you forgot what happened."

  Matty's grip on Genna tightened, his muscles rigid. She winced at the pressure in her chest, her ribs pressing upon her lungs, constricting the flow of air. "You think I forgot? That I could just forget?"

  "She's here, isn't she?"

  "I'll never forget what happened," Matty spat, his voice with a hard edge Genna had never heard from him before. The menacing tone sent a chill down her spine. "I remember it better than anyone. I know what that family is capable of."

  "Then why is she here?"

  "Because I know what ours is capable of, too. I was fucked from both sides, Enzo, but maybe you forgot that. I can't blame her any more than I can blame you. Less, even, considering she has nothing to do with her father's dealings, but you?" Matty scoffed. "You're so far in the shit I'm surprised you don't stink."

  He did, Genna thought. His cologne made her nose twitch.

  The brothers stared at each other, locked in a mutual irate glare, the air around them as silent as a graveyard. Genna remained still, her heart racing so hard she would be surprised if they couldn't hear it. She could, thump-thump-thumping away in her strained chest, echoing in her ears.

  Enzo broke first, a fact that surprised Genna. He let out an exaggerated groan as he looked away, shaking his head. "You're playing with fire, Matty."

  "Let me worry about that," Matty said, his hold on her loosening as he relaxed. He kept her close to him, never letting go, but she felt like she could finally breathe again at the casual tone of his voice. "If I get burned, I get burned."

  "You'll get burned, alright," Enzo muttered, strolling right past them and plopping down on the couch. Matty spun them around to face him. "Pops finds out, he might burn you himself."

  "He won't find out," Matty said. "Right?"

  Enzo raised his hands defensively. "I'm certainly not going to tell him, if that's what you're worried about. But I don't see how you can keep it from him."

  "He hasn't found out yet," Matty said. "And if he does, we'll deal with it then."

  "When," Enzo corrected him. "When he finds out. Because he will. It's only a matter of time. And her father? When he finds out? That cold bastard is going to have your head chopped off. Probably display it on his fucking mantle like a trophy."

  Genna's voice was meek as she instinctively spoke out. "He wouldn't."

  Both boys laughed dryly as Enzo cast her an incredulous look. He clearly didn't like her. At all.

  "He wouldn't," she said again, more insistent as she glared at him. "He's, well… he's not—"

  "Don't," Matty said, the lips near her ear as he spoke the single word, brusque and firm, startling her into silence. "Just… don't."

  "Nah, let her talk," Enzo said, his expression softening with amusement as he lounged back on the couch, stretching his arms out as he regarded her. "Come on, sweetheart. Tell us all about Primo and what he would or wouldn't do."

  Genna tensed at those words.

  Letting go of her, Matty sighed, slipping his arms from her grasp. He left her standing there, coldness washing through her without the comfort of his embrace. She remained in spot, stoic, as he strode toward the open kitchen. Without speaking, he grabbed a bottle of liquor, drinking straight from the bottle when he returned. He held it out to Genna, who took it without even looking, the bitter burn of alcohol scorching her throat.

  She couldn't figh
t off the shudder.

  "Genna, this is Enzo," Matty said, taking the bottle back from her and pointing it at his brother. "Enzo, this is Genna."

  Neither one said anything. No warm greetings. No 'nice to meet you'. Nothing. Genna glowered at him for a moment before turning to Matty. "I've met him now."

  Matty nodded. "And?"

  "And he's even more of an asshole than I thought."

  Matty just stared at her, but Enzo, surprisingly, burst into laughter, the animated sound drawing Genna's attention to him. He looked genuinely entertained by her assessment as he reached out, motioning for Matty to give him the bottle of liquor. Grasping it, he took a swig, trying to contain his amusement. "The feeling is mutual, sweetheart."

  Genna grimaced at his condescending tone. That was the second time he'd called her that. "I'm not your sweetheart."

  "I've got some other names I could call you, if you'd rather."

  "What, like Medusa?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him. "Ice Princess?"

  Enzo's eyes flickered to Matty before focusing on her again. "I was thinking more like bitch, but whatever tickles your fancy, sweetheart."

  Before she could bite back, Matty wrapped an arm around her again, tugging her toward him. "I should get you home."

  "Don’t leave on my account," Enzo said, standing up and thrusting the bottle of liquor right at Matty's chest as he strode toward the door. "Like I said, I just dropped in to say hey. I have work to do."

  Matty sighed when Enzo left, the door slamming behind him. Leaning down, he pressed a light kiss on Genna's neck. "I'm sorry about him."

  He was apologizing for his brother. A Barsanti, apologizing because another Barsanti was doing typical Barsanti things? Genna nearly laughed, but the reality of the situation kept her amusement at bay. "He took it all cooler than I expected."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," Genna mumbled, leaning her head to the side as he kissed up toward her jawline. "Hell of a lot better than Dante would take it."

  Enzo sat in the passenger seat of the Lotus, scowling as he stared out the side window, watching the darkness whiz by. Matty sped through the Manhattan streets, heading southeast toward Little Italy. His skin felt too tight for his body, itching as if stretched too far, discomfort crawling across his flesh.