He trailed off, and Genna heard the concern in his unspoken words. He was worried who else it might be. Was he on to her? She couldn't even fathom what he would think when he found out. This was the ultimate betrayal. She was consorting with the enemy.
But this was her brother, her best friend…
How could she ever choose between them?
"Fine," she muttered. "You're right."
Dante's expression instantly softened, relief shining through that made guilt nag at her. She hadn't exactly lied to him then… he was right, she was seeing someone… but she had misled him, letting him believe whatever he wanted to believe.
It was the only way.
"Just be careful, okay?" Dante said.
"I will," she replied, smiling softly. He was always concerned about her when there was so much more in life he needed to be worried about. "I promise."
She escaped to her room then, kicking her shoes off and flopping down on the bed as she pulled her phone from her pocket. No new messages. No missed calls. No sign of Matty.
She just hoped he was being careful, wherever he was.
Dark. So fucking dark.
The casket was the color of bitter chocolate, so brown it was almost black, matching the cars aligning the narrow pathway through the small cemetery. The air was dreary, cool and damp, clouds covering every inch of sky, not an ounce of sunshine breaking through anywhere.
Even the earth seemed to be mourning.
Splashes of color dotted the landscape as blood red roses covered the top of the casket. Roberto Barsanti stood front-and-center, Matty and Enzo at his side, all three dressed impeccably in pitch-black three-piece suits, while masses of bodies surrounded them, heads bowed, hands clasped in front of them. Hundreds had come out to pay their respects, so many connected men amassed in one place that it drew the attention of law enforcement.
Local cops were strategically positioned around the cemetery while FBI surveillance parked farther off, watching and waiting. It was probably the only time they appreciated the attention, given they were more vulnerable at that moment than they had ever been before.
Nobody came armed, out of respect for Savina.
She had wanted the violence to end.
It wouldn't, though. Matty could sense the storm brewing, the heaviness in the air about so much more than just one death.
It was about the ones to come.
"Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her," the priest said, making the sign of the cross over the casket. "May she rest in peace."
A chorus of "Amen" flowed through the crowd. Matty lowered his head and closed his eyes as the priest finished.
"May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace."
The crowd dispersed then, scattering in different directions throughout the cemetery as the service ended. Dozens of people lined up, taking the chance to personally address the family. Matty kept his head down and his hands clasped in front of him as he listened to his father acknowledge their condolences. Nobody spoke to him, skipping right past as if he weren't there. He wasn't even sure they saw him.
He felt like a ghost.
When the last one had gone through, Matty turned to walk away when his father grasped his shoulder, squeezing so tightly Matty grimaced. "I expect you at the house, Matteo."
"Of course," Matty muttered. He would go, for his mother, but he had no desire to be around those people, and he ventured to guess most of them didn't care if he showed up anyway. "I'll be there."
He wandered through the graveyard, toward his Lotus parked along the front, the bright red sports car sticking out like a sore thumb surrounded by the masses of dark sedans. He pulled his keys from his pocket, starting the engine from afar, and had almost reached it when someone called his name. "Yo, Matty, wait up!"
He slowed his steps as his brother jogged to catch up to him. He hadn't seen Enzo since that moment in his mother's bedroom when she'd taken her last breath. He had disappeared to handle whatever the family was planning, while Matty merely wandered around in a fog, getting lost in the darkness. "En."
Enzo slapped him on the back, breathing heavily as he said, "Where you been?"
"Around," Matty replied. "Why?"
"No reason." Enzo shook his head, his footsteps stalling. "Just haven't seen you. You haven't come home."
Matty knew he meant the apartment above The Place, but his words were contradictory. That wasn't his home. He didn't have one, not really, not anymore… if he had even ever had one. The closest he got was the house in New Jersey, and that was exactly where he had gone.
At least he could think there.
Sighing, Matty opened the driver's side door of his car and paused, not intending to entertain his brother with an explanation. He turned to Enzo, eyeing him curiously. "You need a ride?"
"I, uh…" Enzo glanced around, shrugging a shoulder. "Yeah, sure."
They didn't speak during the drive, the music so loud it hindered any chance of conversation. Matty struggled to find parking at the Barsanti house, pulling past the waiting sedans, and leaving the Lotus down the block. He expected to slip into the house undetected, to continually fly under the radar, but he was accosted the second he stepped through the door. Someone stepped right in front of him, someone Matty only vaguely recognized as one of his father's associates.
The man, with deep gray hair and leathery skin, immediately grasped Matty's hand and firmly shook it. "Matteo Barsanti, it's an honor to finally meet you."
Matty was taken aback.
"You don't know how long we've waited for you to come back," the man continued, clutching his hand tightly, showing no sign of letting go anytime soon. "How long we waited for you to take your place."
Matty's stomach sunk. "I wouldn't say I—"
Before he could finish his sentence, they were interrupted by a group of men, others butting into the conversation to introduce themselves to him. Matty shook their hands, names evading him, forgotten the second they were given. An overwhelming tension overtook his body, his hair bristling at the attention. He tried to take it in stride, to brush it off and slip away, but it became clear to him quickly that it wasn't fleeting.
It was just beginning.
Glancing across the room, he saw his father standing along the wall, sipping from a glass of scotch, his lips twitching as he watched them. And he knew it then, taking in his smug expression, the look that spoke of countless expectations.
He'd orchestrated this.
Enzo slipped through the crowd, interrupting to pull a baffled Matty aside.
"The books opened today," Enzo explained quietly, keeping his stance nonchalant but there was a caution to his words. "I wanted to warn you, I was going to tell you on the way here, but…"
But Enzo wasn't supposed to. Matty sighed, running his hand through his hair. "He's using this as a meet-and-greet, isn't he? He's going to try to nominate me."
"Not try," Enzo said. "The old man is going to do it, whether you like it or not."
"And if I decline?"
Enzo shrugged. "Beats me. Nobody's ever refused him before."
Matty glanced around, surveying the crowd. He hadn't thought it possible, but the worst day of his life had suddenly gotten even worse. "I'm gonna need a drink."
Enzo slapped him on the back. "I'll get you one."
"Make it strong," Matty said.
If he had to do it, there was no way he could do it sober.
Rambunctious chatter and loud music trailed Genna as she trudged upstairs, head down, eyes fixed on her pink-polished toes. Her shoes swung in her hand and her shoulders sagged. Relief washed through her as she escaped the festivities, but it wasn't nearly strong enough to overshadow her sorrow. Now that she was alone, away from prying eyes, it shone brightly in her features, worry etched in the too-deep lines on her young face. She was worried.
Really fucking worried.
She hadn't heard from M
atty in days, ever since he had sent the string of desperate text messages.
She strode quietly down the hall and slipped into her back bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She dropped her shoes on the floor and leaned back against the wooden door, closing her eyes. This night had been the longest of her life, the most trying of her patience. So many times she had been close to flipping, to snapping, all of her frustrations and grievances perched on the tip of her tongue, but she continually swallowed them back as she plastered on a smile to save face. So they wouldn't know… so they wouldn't see.
So they wouldn't realize she felt differently.
All night long, over and over, she had heard the name, spat in scathing, disgust-filled voices. Barsanti.
Sighing, she pushed away from the door and glanced around. Her dress was too tight, the air too stifling. She felt like she was suffocating as the sounds from below reached even in here. Frustrated, she walked to the sliding glass door and unlocked it, shoving the curtains aside to open it. A rush of cool, damp air assaulted her. She inhaled deeply, breathing it in, welcoming it as she stepped out onto the small terrace. Her feet seemed to slide against the wood from the drizzling rain. Despite summer being upon them, the nights were still chilly. Not a star could be seen tonight, the moon shrouded in a thick blanket of gray clouds, casting a hazy gloominess upon everything.
She propped herself on the wooden railing as the wind whipped around her, rustling the blooming trees and blowing her long hair into her face. It was such a tumultuous night, her thoughts distracting her so much that she nearly missed the movement in the yard below. The form blended into the shadows around the trees just below the balcony until a blast of silent lightening flashed, illuminating the area. Although it made no sound, Genna jolted as if a crack of thunder had struck right beside her. Startled, she grasped her chest as she stared at the figure.
"Matty?" she gasped.
He stood there in the yard, his fitted black suit somehow looking too big, like he was drowning in the material. The top buttons of the shirt were undone as it hung half-tucked into his pants, the tie knotted loosely around his neck as he tugged on it.
Suffocating. He was suffocating, too.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, heart thumping erratically in her chest. He was there, in her backyard. That was the last place he should ever be.
His words slurred together as he said, "I needed to see you."
"You couldn't have just called?"
"See you," he stressed. "I had to see you, Genna."
"Skype?" she suggested, leaning over the railing as she gaped at him, rain starting to fall harder on them as more lightning flashed. "Facetime? Something?"
"It's not the same."
It wasn't, she knew, but he shouldn't have come there. Her eyes darted around nervously as her stomach clenched. "Jesus, Matty, you can't be here. Someone could see you. It's not safe. You know that."
"It doesn't matter." He stepped forward, staggering as he tugged on his tie some more.
"It does matter! Do you know what they'd do if they saw you here?"
"Kill me." His response was impassive. "I don't care."
"You should."
"Why?" He gazed up at her, raindrops splattering his face and dripping from his washed-out skin. "What do I have to live for?"
"Me," she said right away. "Live for me."
Agony crossed his expression, his eyes leaving hers as his gaze drifted toward the backdoor of the house. Just yards from him, the biggest and most powerful members of the Galante crime family gathered. Every single man down there knew who he was and wanted nothing more than to see him and everyone he loved destroyed. Nothing but wood, and brick, and glass separated him from his demise, yet he just stood there, statuesque, like he wasn't afraid to see his end.
It terrified her, though. God, did it scare her.
"You can't be here," she said in a panicked whisper. "You have to leave, Matty."
"I can't." His voice cracked as his eyes met hers again. "I have nowhere to go."
The torment in his voice struck deep inside of her, squeezing her heart and making her chest ache. Stupid, stupid boy. Her eyes darted around again in shock that he hadn't yet been discovered. It was only a matter of time, though. She had to do something—fast.
"The shed," she said, motioning toward the small building along the back of the property.
His eyes darted that way, his brow furrowing. "You want me to hide in your shed?"
"No, you fool," she hissed. "There's a ladder in the shed."
It seemed to dawn on him what she was getting at. He started that way as she called out to him. "Make it fast! And for God's sake, be quiet!"
Her words fell on deaf ears... or maybe just drunk ones. His steps were slow and awkward, and Genna's heart viciously pounded as he made a ruckus dragging the ladder away. It clanked and clattered as he heaved it toward her, and Genna grimaced when it thumped against the side of the house.
He climbed it, his shiny black dress shoes sliding on the slippery metal rungs. As soon as he was close enough for Genna to reach, she grasped his arm and helped yank him over the railing. She stared at the ladder, contemplating.
Ugh. Hadn't really thought that through.
She considered lugging it up with them, but instead just gave it a push and knocked it into the backyard. Maybe nobody will notice.
Matty stared down as it landed in the grass. "Guess I'm staying."
Sighing dramatically, Genna tugged him into her bedroom and out of the rain. She left the sliding glass door open, the cool breeze following them as Matty pulled her into his arms. An odor clung to him, an echo of a bottle of liquor, slightly overshadowed by the strong peppermint melting on his tongue.
"You're drunk," she said, her earlier worries not at all eased with him there. If anything, it confirmed her suspicions. He was a wreck. "Please tell me you didn't drive like this."
"I didn't," he said. "I'm not stupid, Genna."
"Not stupid?" She scoffed. "You couldn't be more stupid! You showed up at my house while they're all--"
"Celebrating." His voice shook as he bitterly forced out the word. "I'm grieving, and these people—they're celebrating."
"They're… not," she said, knowing it was a lie the moment she said it. They certainly weren't distraught about the turn of events. They would never tell her any of their plans, would never bring her into the business, but she heard the whisperings and insinuations all night long. Now that the Barsantis were distracted, the perfect moment to make a move was upon them. They were going to eliminate the enemy before the enemy even knew war had been declared. If Genna's father had his way, this was only the beginning of the desolation for Matty. They were going to take down his entire family, pick them off one-by-one.
She ran her hand along his jawline, feeling the scruff scratching at her palm. His eyes looked so hollow, red-rimmed and glossed over with unshed tears. Seeing him in so much agony stirred up the same feelings within her. She felt betrayed… but not by him. Not by them. Not the Barsantis. Her own father, her own family, caused this anguish, and she wasn't sure there was any way to cure that pain. The sense of loyalty that had been embedded in her since birth sealed her lips and silenced her tongue from spilling the things she knew.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, brushing her fingers across his chapped lips, wondering what sort of secrets he, too, swallowed back. "So, so sorry. I wish I could've been there for you. I wanted to be there for you. I tried."
He grabbed her hand, holding it there as he kissed her fingertips. "You're here now."
"I am," she said. "Whatever you need."
"I need you." He pulled her hand away from his mouth, no hesitation as his lips met hers in a fiery kiss. She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands drifted to her hips. He shoved her dress up, hands slipping beneath the fabric as he cupped her ass, squeezing the cheeks and pressing her flush against him. She moaned into his mouth, heat igniting in her gut when
she felt his erection straining the fabric of his pants.
He walked her over to her unmade bed as he fumbled with their clothes, breaking the kiss long enough to pull her dress off and toss it away. She gazed at him in the darkness, biting down on her bottom lip, watching as he made work of his clothes.
"Now?" she asked as he unbuckled his pants and let them drop to the floor, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. "My dad's here... and my brother..."
"So?"
"They could hear."
"Not if you're quiet… if that's possible for you."
She dramatically rolled her eyes, unable to keep the blush from staining her cheeks. Quiet? With him? Unlikely. Matty pulled her down on her bed. She lay back on it, her heart feverishly pounding in her chest as he hovered over her, kissing her deeply. Her lips tingled from the force of his, the taste of peppermint coating her tongue as she, too, grew intoxicated, but from lust. He awakened every part of her, igniting every nerve ending, as her body instinctively welcomed him in.
He kissed and caressed her exposed skin as she closed her eyes, relaxing into the soft satin sheets. His hands explored before he roughly grasped her side, startling her as he pushed her over onto her stomach. Her eyes opened, questions on the tip of her tongue, but they were halted the moment she felt him settle between her legs. He stroked her thighs, parting her legs and raising her bottom half off the bed just enough for him to thrust inside of her from behind. She cried out, fisting the bed sheets as he filled her. He trailed kisses along her spine before lying down on top of her, his warm chest flat against her back, covering her, enveloping her in his embrace. One arm snaked around her chest as he held her tightly, his hand resting at the base of her throat, as his other hand rubbed her hip before slipping beneath. His fingertips stroked her clit, eliciting a loud gasp from her lips.
"Shhhh," he whispered as he kissed the shell of her ear, covering her body completely with his own. "Quiet, remember?"