The Truth Hurts: Part Two: The Twisted Betrayal Duet

Precious Legacy

Love doesn’t come easy when your family leads one of the notorious organized crime gangs of New York City. Life isn’t easy when you’re battling morals, jobs, and broken promises. There’s also a razor thin line between love and hate, and I tread so close to it that sometimes I struggle to discern the difference.

I know, because I love hating Roman Genovese. And I hate that once upon a time, I may have loved him. It’s funny what the young mind can perceive as love; how na?ve we can be when we’re too immature to know any better. But I know now. It wasn’t love I felt—it was lust. Obscene lust that blinded me, and Roman took full advantage of that, like the manipulative bastard he is.

That’swhat fuels the burning sense of loathing in the pit of my stomach. Anger is the first emotion I feel when I think of him, quickly followed by the desire to drive a knife through his stupidly pretty face.

I’d never do it. It’d cause a war between families, and the alliance we have forged has done ridiculously well in this city. My father makes up just one of The Notorious Five. Axel Bonanno is the founder of the organization; the one everyone fears, respects, and bows to. He inherited the position from my great uncle, a man who betrayed his family just to gain a sliver of power over the city. It’s one of the reasons my father built his legacy the way he did; not just for the Bonanno name, but for his brother’s bound by loyalty: Colombo, Lucchese, Gambino, and Genovese. Together, they’re the five pillars that became the leading crime syndicate in New York City, and now my father is handing his legacy down to the next heir, my twin brother Alvaro.

Tonight, we’re celebrating his new title as leader of the Bonanno family. A while back, my father decided it was finally time to step down and let my twin take the reins, so he’s been preparing for retirement, making plans with my mom to spend more quality time together. Of course, Alvaro can’t wait to prove himself to Dad. Not that he has to. My dad thinks the sun pretty much shines out of every orifice when it comes to my brother. He can’t do anything wrong in his eyes, even when he fucks up.

Unfortunately, it’s a different story for me entirely. I’m not exactly daughter of the year—or the past five years, for that matter—since I declared that I didn’t want to be a part of the family business. It’s not that I don’t agree with what our families do, it’s just that my passions lie elsewhere. Mom’s totally on my side, and so is my Aunt Lexie, but Dad’s still on the fence about setting me free. Actually, he’s more on the other side of the fence, giving me the evil eye from afar. Even tonight my father stands across the room, seemingly in deep conversation with Uncle Noah, but I know his attention is firmly on me. Too bad the intensity of his glare only encourages me to act out. Nothing I do is ever good enough, so defying him has become a talent I’ve honed.

My gaze bounces through the crowd, taking in the groups of friends and family clinking glasses and laughing over the music. Everyone’s here tonight; the Gambinos, Luccheses… even the O’Sullivans have made an appearance. Roman’s parents are around here somewhere, and I’ve already seen Aunt Lexie—though I don’t want to revisit that memory because I’m almost certain I caught her and Uncle Trigger fucking in the bathroom—and the DJ is in the far corner, blaring the playlist Haldon Gambino curated for his best friend’s ascension to leadership.

The beat travels through the room, the bass thumping through my chest. It’s no surprise that Haldon’s talent is in music, since his father owns half the clubs in Hell’s Kitchen. Haldon follows in his father’s footsteps, the looks, the lines, the leadership. The Five is slowly handing the mantel down to the next generation. We’re all in line to take something from this, but the biggest shoes to fill belong to my father.

I return my attention to my mortal enemy, Roman Genovese, as he makes his rounds through the crowded room. His tattooed hands clutch other people’s, shaking them with graceful conviction, feigning smiles I’m all too familiar with. His entire presence grabs the attention of everyone in the room, even me, and I hate it.

You might think that with our parents being best friends, their kids would follow in their footsteps.

Not. A. Chance.

We’re enemies. Our hatred towards one another is built on the plight of our past. Our history forged our emotions, and now every time I look at the jerk, I want to rip his tongue out and shove it up his ass. The only thing stopping me right now is the room full of people I’m standing in.

I can’t deny that the man is poised to go far in this world. He’s in line to take over for his father, too. Not in the immediate future, but judging by the way he holds himself, it won’t be too long before he’s commanding others to do his dirty work. And I can’t wait for the day. He’ll demolish everything in his wake, just like he did to me, and I’ll revel in that moment. Until then, I’ll just stick to the shadows, keep my distance, and pretend that I actually want to be here.

“If you keep glaring like that, he might combust,” my brother comments from beside me.

“I wish,” I mutter, grabbing an open champagne bottle from the nearest waiter’s tray.

Alvaro chuckles, shaking his head. Despite this being his party, he’s kept me in his line of sight the entire evening—just like our father. Considering he’s the favorite, he spends every moment he can ensuring I’m not left out. It’s been like that since we were kids. It’s what I love about him; his ability to remind me I am a part of this family, even when I don’t feel like I am.

“Just make sure nobody else gets caught up in the fire,” he remarks.

Rolling my eyes, I continue surveying Roman from afar. I haven’t seen him in a year. He spends all his time in California now and it’s evident from the sun-kissed glow that it’s not been strictly business.

Since The Five branched out to the West Coast, Roman has been helping his father and the O’Sullivans out there. The rest of The Five stayed here to run their outfit, which is probably a good thing. It means I don’t have to see the asshole as much.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two?” Alvaro asks, arching an inquisitive brow.

No. Not in a million years.

I could never admit that Roman Genovese, one of my brother’s best friends, stole my heart, and then shattered it into a trillion, irreparable pieces. We were close until we weren’t, and that’s what hurts the most. That’s what I refuse to talk about, refuse to address—because the hatred spurs me on, drives me to never let my guard down for anyone, and pushes me to focus on the more meaningful things in my life.

There’s also the fact I don’t want to burst my brother’s bubble. Even though we’ve all grown up together, Haldon, Roman and Alvaro have always been inseparable. But my brother is also super protective of me, and I him. If he knew what Roman did, there wouldn’t be a friendship between them anymore, that’s for sure. There’d be bloodied fists, black eyes, and maybe even a gun pulled. What Roman did is between me and him, and I plan to keep it that way.

“Are you ever going to go mingle with your minions?” I retort, just loud enough for my twin to hear. I take a long pull off the champagne bottle, the bubbles fizzing down my throat as my eyes narrow on the tall blonde weaving through the throngs of people. His hair is brushed back, loose strands falling over his eyes and shining every time he passes beneath a strategically placed light. I remember all the times I used to run my fingers through those strands, tug on them while… fuck… I need to stop letting my thoughts run free.

“I came to check up on you,” my brother says sweetly, resting a hand on my arm.

“I’m fine,” I snap.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, but you can’t continue to bottle that shit up.”

Swallowing another mouthful of the bubbly liquid, I slide my anger-filled gaze to my brother, my knuckles whitening as I grip the neck of the bottle. “Some things are better left in the past.”

Alvaro retracts his hand, returning his attention to Roman, who is heading straight towards us. “Keep telling yourself that, sis. Maybe one of these days you’ll believe it.”

“Varo,” Roman nods at my brother as he reaches us. Then he scours those bright blue eyes over my body, and every inch of my skin responds with a betraying burn, a desire that I try to push as far away from my consciousness as possible. “Lani,” he smirks.

My back stiffens. “Alanis,” I correct through gritted teeth.

With an awkward nod, my brother retreats. His expensive shoes clip the hardwood floor as he heads towards the bar, unable to leave the toxic tension quick enough.

I gulp back my vexed frustration. The urge to slam the damn champagne bottle over Roman’s head just so I can get away from him is too strong to ignore. Sure, it’s violent, but the damage it’d inflict would be nothing compared to how he left me.

Roman clearly has other ideas, though. He circles my figure with his own like I’m prey. His vibrant irises darken as they tour my neck, my chest. As his footsteps prowl behind me, I feel his hand drag down my waist, his touch leaving a path of scalding desire burning down my side. “Have I ever told you red looks good on you, Presh?”

I wince at the nickname, closing my eyes as his manly scent surrounds me. “Fuck off, Roman.”

Hot breaths suddenly kiss my ear. Roman’s proximity is deliciously suffocating; a confusing storm of lust and loathing that spins me around until I’m dizzy. It doesn’t help that beneath that cocky, disgustingly confident and nauseating mask, is a man who’s fucking great in bed. I just have to remember why I need to steer clear.

He doesn’t love you.

“You know how much I love it when you talk dirty,” Roman whispers before sliding his hot tongue behind my ear.

I suppress the shiver that crawls up my spine, the hairs on my arms refusing to obey my demand not to react. With my body standing rigid and resolute, I grit my teeth and reply over my shoulder, “Go bother someone else.”

“Why would I do that, Presh?” His fingertips gently caress my bare arm, starting from my shoulder and coaxing every hair to stand to attention as his touch descends to my wrist. When he reaches my palm, his little finger links with mine; a sharp reminder of our past. “You’re the sexiest girl in the room,” he purrs.

I snatch my hand away, feeling the frigid ache of his vanishing touch. I’m not about to let him get close again. I can’t afford to.

Never again.

“Want to know a secret?” Roman rasps against my ear as he leers over my shoulder from behind. His hand squeezes my hip, before dropping down the curve of my ass.

Yes. “No.”

“I enjoy bothering you the most.”

I suck in a breath when his palm tours my thigh, landing on the one thing I never leave home without.

“How the hell did you get this in here?” he tuts, fingers thrumming against the piece holstered to my thigh.

I swing my arm around, hand clutching his wrist as I yank it away and twist it back. He winces slightly, but that’s about as much emotion as this asshole will ever show, so I go for the jugular, reminding him just how much I hate him.

“Call it a present. You can take it and use it on yourself.”

“So hostile,” he breathes out heavily, his other hand planting firmly on my ass and pulling me close to him. “You know I enjoy your fight.”

I do. I also know how much he enjoys fucking everything up, taking whatever he wants and leaving me with nothing. I’m all too familiar with how much enjoyment he takes from obliterating everything good.

“Go fight someone else,” I grit out.

“I don’t want to fight. I want to dance,” he winks.

I shove him away with as much force as I can muster without causing a scene. “In your fucking dreams,” I hiss.

With only two steps, Roman presses his chest flush with mine, his forehead pushing against my own and our lips so close to one another’s that any sudden move could result in catastrophe. A surge of panic blended with excitement pools in my stomach, dropping to the throbbing pulse between my legs.

I hate how responsive I am to him, even after everything he did. It’s like I can’t stay away—no matter how broken he left me, I’m always craving more. My body betrays me, my brain doesn’t know what to do anymore, especially when Roman leans forward to press his lips to my cheek, searing his promise into my skin.

“You’re always in them,” he whispers. Confidence fixes his posture as he moves away from me, and his smile stretches those detestably perfect lips. Another wink makes my heart skip a beat before he glides past me and towards my brother, who’s now throwing back shots with Haldon at the bar.

There is no way I can stand to be here anymore, not while Roman is on the prowl, not while I’m in his line of sight. Not when I know he will make every effort to piss me off tonight, just like he does every time I see him.

“Why is it always the good-looking ones who are assholes?” A head rests on my shoulder as I watch Roman leave. I know it’s Haven Gambino from the signature perfume she always wears, and it makes me smile.

I sigh, spinning around and handing the half-drunk bottle of champagne to my best friend. She takes a swig from the bottle before handing it back to me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Beats me.”

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