Chapter 2

"I figured you'd stay at the safe house with Lilia all night."

I pulled away from him. He smelled of cigar smoke and cheap perfume.

"After all, her father has made so many enemies. Without you there to scare them off, I'm sure it'd be a disaster."

Someone flipped on the study light.

The harsh glare fell across Victor's face.

He yanked his tie loose, and his expression darkened.

"Cecilia, do you have to talk to me in that snide tone?

"I've explained this to you so many times. Lilia's brother died taking a bullet for me. I only see her as a sister. Nothing has ever happened between us."

I didn't say anything.

I picked up the tablet from the table, pulled up the screenshot a dark web informant had just sent me, and held it in front of his face.

It showed the meeting room where we'd been scheduled to sign the blood pact.

Victor's men and Lilia's people were raising their glasses together, looking awfully friendly.

Right in the middle of the photo, Victor was bending down to light Lilia's cigarette.

And she was brazenly stroking the ring on his finger.

The two of them were so close they were practically pressed together.

The caption read, "The Don who's been paying my way for years is about to become my very own guardian angel!"

I held up the tablet and looked him straight in the eye.

"You two certainly found a use for the room.

"I spent a week securing that underground meeting room with my own people. The minute we were done, you two were in there flirting."

Victor's expression shifted.

He snatched the tablet away, his brow furrowing.

"I didn't know she'd posted something that could be taken the wrong way. I'll have the tech guys take it down right now.

"Besides, Lilia probably heard our families were about to seal the marriage pact and got curious. She's just a kid goofing around online.

"She can't even load a gun. What does she know about the mafia? You're the future Donna of the West District. Be the bigger person and stop fixating on little things like this."

I scoffed.

"A 23-year-old kid?

"Why don't you just buy her a pacifier and stick it in her mouth?"

Victor raked a hand through his hair in frustration and tossed the tablet back on the table.

"The pact ceremony is coming up. I don't want to fight with you right now.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room tonight. I won't touch you again until you stop being unreasonable."

The bedroom door slammed. I froze for a second and was about to explode. Then I remembered I was leaving in three days, and none of it mattered anymore.

The loud bang woke my father and brother next door.

They burst out with their guns drawn and anxiously asked what had happened.

I shook my head, reassured them, and sent them back to bed.

The next day, I got up early.

Sure enough, my father was already in the kitchen with a big steaming pot of seafood stew.

It was an authentic Sicilian recipe, a taste I'd loved since I was little.

Victor came out of the guest room.

When my father saw him, he held up a bowl of stew and warmly invited him to try it.

Victor hesitated for a split second and frowned.

"What's that smell?"

He glanced at the deep red stew, disgust written plainly on his face.

"That smell is... hard to get used to.

"I know you miss the food back home, but this is West District headquarters. From now on, don't cook anything that smells this strong. People will laugh."

My father fell silent for a moment, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't know the rules in the West District. Cecilia's loved this since she was little, so I made it for her. I'll get rid of it right away."

He gripped the bowl so tightly the veins stood out on his hand, fighting the urge to dump the stew in Victor's face. But the effort made his hand shake.

With a sharp crack, the bowl fell from his hand and shattered on the floor.

My father lowered his eyes, hiding what he felt.

He didn't call for the staff. Though he'd never bowed to anyone, he now bent down in silence to pick up the broken pieces.

My brother drew his gun on Victor in a rage, but one stern look from my father froze him in place.

In the end, he glanced at me, put the gun away, slammed his fist into the doorframe, and went back to his room.

Tears stung my eyes.

Back in Sicily, my father always stood ramrod straight.

If anyone had shown him an ounce of disrespect, his men would have shot them full of holes on the spot.

But ever since I'd gotten engaged to Victor, he'd been walking on eggshells.

He wouldn't take the arms profits I sent home. He told me to keep them to grease the palms of a few of Victor's capos so they wouldn't look down on me.

When I went back to the island for the holidays, he wouldn't let me buy him anything. When I left, he'd load a whole cargo ship with local specialties for me to bring to Victor.

Even when the West District people stood us up and treated us like nobodies, he didn't dare draw his gun or lose his temper.

All because he was terrified I'd be mistreated in the years to come.

I strode over and helped my father up, my voice hoarse with everything I was holding back.

"Dad, go take care of your injury. I'll clean this up.

"And don't throw out the stew. I like it."

He tried to crouch down and help, but I made him sit in a chair.

Victor met my eyes. He stiffened, then tried to smooth things over. "That wasn't aimed at him. I just can't handle strong fishy smells in the morning. You know that."

I didn't even look at him.

I quietly swept the broken pieces into the trash and carefully cleaned the floor.

Victor followed right behind me.

He opened his mouth to say something several times, but I acted like I didn't notice.

After cleaning up, I'd planned to show my father a few of the old West District outposts.

But then I got an urgent call from the man in charge of the East District docks.

A shipment of heavy artillery I was responsible for had been seized at the port.

For once in his life, Victor offered without being asked, "Go take care of it. I'll send a few men to show the old Don around. I don't have anything pressing today anyway."

I turned and looked at him suspiciously.

Victor awkwardly avoided my eyes.

"I was out of line earlier.

"Once the pact is signed, your father will be family to me too. I'll make sure my people take good care of him and your brother."

I figured my father was flying back to Sicily with me soon anyway, and I couldn't keep him cooped up inside all day.

In the end, I nodded.

By the time I'd made threats, called in favors, and greased the right palms at customs, it was late at night.

I was about to call my father on the encrypted channel to ask how his day had gone when my phone started buzzing.

I answered, and my brother roared, frantic and furious, "Cecilia, get some people down to the black-market clinic now. Dad's been shot. He passed out..."