The Enigmatic Mafia Boss

Beatrice’s POVMy phone buzzes in my front pocket, and all I can think about is checking it. I shift in the metal chair, keeping my hands folded on the old aluminum conference table that’s definitely seen better days. The warehouse is empty except for the six of us. It’s a strange situation, but I’ve learned the right questions to ask and which ones to steer clear of. At least we have a table. This is a negotiation, not a fight. The table matters. My heart is racing, but I’ve gotten used to that feeling. The pounding in my chest is my tell, and I’m glad the others can’t hear it, even when it’s thumping in my ears. I’ve trained hard for this double life, at least on the surface. “Listen,” I let a bit of impatience creep into my tone. “Sierra is going to be furious when she finds out you’re messing with her.” The chill in the air should have been my first clue that this meeting wouldn’t go well. It’s so cold that I half-expect to see my breath. Fred’s too stingy to pay for the hea

Beatrice’s POVHot pink isn’t really my go-to color, but it surprisingly complements the darker tones I got from my dad. Sierra was adamant about picking out my dress for this event. Getting her to join me wasn’t the hard part; it was more about steering her away from some of the outrageous outfit ideas she had in mind for me. “So, Native Barbie, are you enjoying the show?” Sierra asks, her champagne flute held delicately in her perfectly manicured hands. I shoot her a sideways look while taking a sip from my own drink. “Only you could pull that off.” I’ve got a bit of that lily-white vibe from my mom, too. People who try to label me often find it tricky because I don’t fit neatly into any box. My gaze wanders around the grand ballroom, landing on the stunning crystal chandelier that brightens our corner. I let my fingers brush against the gun strapped to my thigh. This event was supposed to be low-key, but it’s ballooned into something much larger since my meeting with James.

Beatrice’s POV“I do.” Her expression softens. “You’re not going to fight each other. Flint’s a jerk, but he’s still your brother.” “There are things you can’t possibly understand. People change. Flint’s mom and mine would be turning in their graves.” The hint of an accent returns, making me want to lean in closer to catch more. Despite her words, I think that accent might be genuine. Sierra isn’t a mom, but sometimes she gives off a nurturing vibe around certain people. Like that little hip sway, she doesn’t show that side of herself often. Her bond with Nolan and Flint runs deeper than I ever realized. “Can I help?” she asks. Nolan looks at me before turning to Sierra. “Maybe,” he replies. “I’m not looking for an arms deal, at least not right now. I wanted Flint to see I’m serious—my threats are real—which is why I brought you here.” She shifts in her seat. “I used to babysit you two when our parents were in meetings. I know how tight you and Flint are.” I try to keep my

Beatrice’s POVThe next day, when the door swings open to reveal Flint, I can't help but curse Nolan and his so-called matchmaking skills. I shot Nolan a text as soon as I landed to let him know when I’d be at the house. He definitely knew it would be me at the door. I sidestep Flint, rolling my eyes at the thought that I don’t know how to charm a guy. Nolan and I are going to have a serious talk about this. This isn’t my style at all.“Sierra must be a pretty terrible boss if you think working for Nolan is a better gig,” Flint quips.Instead of turning to him, I keep walking toward the back of the house and Nolan’s office. I give Flint a little wave over my shoulder, not even bothering to respond to him.His hearty laugh trails behind me until I turn the corner. When I reach Nolan’s door, I hit the buzzer like I saw Dalton do yesterday.After a moment, Nolan’s breathless voice comes through the speaker. “Yes?”“Tris.”The door buzzes open, and I step into the spacious room. Nolan is

Beatrice’s POVI spend the next few weeks shadowing Nolan around the city as he makes deals, chats with people, and stacks up cash. I can never quite figure out what Flint does all day. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of him, but most of the time it feels like it’s just Nolan and me in the house. Flint’s like a ghost. One day, while I’m sitting on the edge of my bed thinking about hitting the gym, my phone buzzes with that familiar tone. I grab it from the nightstand and see a simple message. “Lunch is on me today. James.”I check the clock and realize I’ve got two hours to get to a dive bar in R Island. I quickly throw on my go-to outfit of black pants and a shirt, pulling my dark hair into a tight ponytail. Snatching my jacket off the chair where I tossed it last night, I head down the hall to ask for the day off. I ring Nolan’s office, wishing I could just walk in. We go through our usual routine, and he buzzes me into the room. “You should really set up a camera out there so we ca