Beauty Unbroken (De Salvo Empire #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Bad Day

There was nothing like an old, detested nightmare and the half a night’s missed sleep that always followed to start off a Monday.

Except, apparently, for trudging into work on that same Monday with a belly full of too much caffeine, only to find her personal belongings dumped into an open-faced box and an offensively perky pink slip taped to the outward side.

Her family name was scrawled in hasty Sharpie on the box itself, the last couple of letters obscured by the paper that had been slapped overtop.

I should have seen this coming.

It was all Reiko could think as she took in the sight.

Numbness climbed over her, clawing up her nerves and settling on her skin like paint.

She hadn’t had any reason to expect to find herself jobless that morning.

She wasn’t prepared. Yet there it was. Undeniable proof for the entire office to see.

She felt like a spectacle. Having the literal pink slip and pre-packed box waiting for her so openly made her incredibly self-conscious. It was a glaring beacon of her undesirability.

No wonder it felt like everyone was staring at me when I walked in.

“Looks like you didn’t make the cut, Matsunaga,” a male voice said from the far side of the room.

Reiko pulled in a breath and pushed down the heavy sense of rejection that had begun poking through the numbness.

It would be better if she could stay numb for a bit longer, really.

But she refused to dwell on that and turned a sidelong glance in her former colleague’s direction.

She didn’t bother stopping herself from narrowing her eyes at him.

She’d never cared for his attitude, anyway. “You knew cutbacks were coming?”

Charles smirked at her, the expression smug, and disappeared without another word behind the privacy wall of his cubicle.

She blew out a breath, told herself to let it go, and lifted the paper from the box.

There wasn’t even any sort of personal note from her supervisor, whose signature was scribbled on the crucial line.

It was basically a form letter letting her know she was no longer employed and could expect her final week’s pay to be deposited within forty-eight hours of the written-in date.

A disgruntled sigh threatened, and Reiko swallowed it down before sticking the paper into the haphazardly packed box she found herself having to carry out with her.

She took one more large gulp of the scalding hot coffee she’d brought herself for the day, snapped the lid closed, then shoved the thermos into her bag-style purse and heaved the bag onto her shoulder.

It would be difficult to juggle the too-large box and push her way out, against traffic, down the main hall at the same time as the last-minute employees were rushing into the office. But she had no choice.

So, she locked her jaw, kept her gaze as down as she could afford, and ignored everything other than her destination.

The agitated grunts from her still-employed former colleagues who couldn’t bother angling their slighter forms out of her way landed like boulders on her shoulders.

But Reiko made it to the front desk, set down the box, and coolly handed over her employee ID as she was supposed to.

Then it was over. She was done. She was suddenly, undeniably, unemployed.

I knew today would suck.

She shoved the box into the back seat of her car, as careless with it as her manager had been in packing it, before dropping herself into the driver’s seat. Tears blurred her vision before the engine rolled over. The numbness was gone and she missed it already.

It wasn’t that she’d loved that job. But it was a job she was capable at. She knew what was expected of her, how to meet and sometimes exceed demands. It had been reliable. For four years, that job had paid her rent, her utilities, her groceries—it had funded her freedom. Such as her freedom was.

She was not prepared, emotionally or financially, to be without.

It was all Reiko could do, for the entire drive back to her apartment, not to fall into a panic.

By the time she was home, she had talked herself into a loose concept of a game plan.

As crappy as it was. So, she dumped her box on the sofa, then took her coffee, cell, and laptop into the dining area.

She needed to update her old résumé before she could start searching for new employment.

And, obviously, securing new employment was her paramount objective.

Her head spun with the realization she would also need to research job hunting sites. It had been years since she’d last needed to do any of this and she was horrendously out of touch.

And I’ll need to apply for unemployment, too. At least that will be a little bit of money, hopefully.

Everything seemed so daunting. It was so much that all needed to be done immediately.

Reiko was still rubbing another round of tears from her eyes when her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She couldn’t think of who would be texting her, as her only friends were work associates.

Her heart constricted with the thought. Does that mean I don’t have friends anymore?

She did her best to shake that crushing understanding from her head and reached for her phone.

The better question, honestly, was whether or not she’d ever had friends to start.

She dropped her gaze to the screen and it was like a slap to the face, reminding her firmly that the answer was ‘no,’ and she’d been a fool for thinking otherwise.

A pit formed in her stomach at the sight of her brother’s name staring back at her.

Of course. The whole reason she’d been dreading the day to begin with.

Today was one of the few days she should have expected to hear from one of them—from him, specifically.

The drama of losing her job had distracted her for a moment, but she knew what Hiroto’s text would say.

She knew how she’d feel when she read it.

She opened it anyway.

You should visit Mom today.

Hiroto’s simple sentence came with a picture, and Reiko didn’t need to ask to know he’d taken the photo that morning. That was the habit he’d developed.

She stared at the screen, at the photo of her late mother’s tombstone and the portion of the fresh bouquet Hiroto hadn’t quite cropped out, until the screen went dark.

A wayward tear rolled down Reiko’s cheek and she finally set her phone back on the table.

It wasn’t like Hiroto expected a reply right away.

If he found out she’d lost her job—on the anniversary of their mother’s death, of all days—she’d surely receive some sort of berating message for it. She would contact him later.

Reiko let her gaze roll up, toward the ceiling, and one more tear slipped free. Of all the days.

She drew a deep breath, held it, then pushed to her feet.

As if on autopilot, she made a cup of her favorite calming tea, breathed it in, and forced herself to resettle at the table.

There was still work to do, no matter what day it was.

No matter what expectations others held over her head. No matter how much it hurt.

“Seems poetic if you ask me.”

Santino tapped his fingers on his desktop and let both brows arch up his forehead as he shifted his stare to his cousin. “Poetic.”

Danilo grunted, never one to catch onto Santino’s darker moods, and sat back in his chosen seat the way a man might when he was settling in.

He swept one arm out. “You ran wild barely a week ago. Between the men who died and the ones who haven’t finished recovering, the family’s out five good soldiers.

” He gestured with his other arm. “Now your managers are running amok, firing employees and shuffling the fucking board without your sign-off.” He dropped his arms to his lap and leaned forward, glaring as his tone darkened. “Poetic.”

Santino didn’t flinch. He didn’t curl his fingers into a fist, or bury that fist into his arrogant, stupid cousin’s face. He didn’t up-end the desk that held between them. He didn’t draw his nearest gun.

He thought about doing all of those things.

He envisioned each scenario, the rush, the immediate gratification the moments of impact and resulting silence might bring.

He let himself imagine the relief and the fucking joy of shutting his jealous cousin up before the dumb shit could get them all killed.

Then he exhaled, and followed those scenarios through to the moments when he had to explain the outburst to the rest of the family. To Nonno, and Zia.

And so, Danilo lived another day.

“Since we’re being frank, Cousin,” Santino said, pulling his arm from the desk and leaning back in his chair to let his hands fold in his lap, “I’ll remind you that you should always modulate your tone when speaking to me.”

Danilo’s brow dipped and his lips thinned.

Santino didn’t let him respond. “More importantly, just because you’re too ignorant to understand my decisions does not mean I’ve ‘run wild’.

” He threaded his fingers together and narrowed his eyes at his cousin as Danilo’s agitation rose in nearly palpable waves.

“I am in charge of the Guerra family. If I tell a man to jump, he doesn’t fucking hesitate.

He doesn’t ask how fucking high. He just jumps, as high and far as his goddamn legs can handle. ”

Danilo shoved to his feet and slammed a fist onto Santino’s desk. “That wasn’t even our fight!”

Santino let his scowl deepen. “What is an allegiance if we don’t occasionally show up for the other side?”

Danilo’s lips curled. “I will never understand why you’ve entangled us with those Jersey—”