Chapter 2
MATTEO
A night and half a day of flying, switching out three different planes, but I’m finally here.
In NYC, where it all began. Where my great-grandfather got off the boat at Ellis Island with one dream and one dream only.
Make it. He did. His son did. As for us, we reversed it all.
But now it’s time for me to change it back.
I can’t quite see the Statue of Liberty and adjacent Ellis Island from the large windows of my cousin Niccolo’s penthouse, but over the skyscrapers I can see all the way to the horizon where the sun is setting a violent red and orange.
Rosso di sera, buon tempo si spera. My grandmother used to say that.
Meaning that a red sunset would bring good weather.
Or good times. I hope it holds true for that too.
“You almost ready?” Nico asks from the hallway leading from the open-plan kitchen, dining and living room situation to the bedrooms.
We’re first cousins on my mother’s side and haven’t seen each other in over seven years, but whenever we get together, it’s like no time has passed at all.
We could pass for brothers, since we’re built almost the same, have similar light brown hair and our eyes are the exact same shade of green.
Probably why we click so well. That’s gonna come in handy now.
“I’m gonna need to borrow some clothes,” I say and grin at him. “I brought nothing.”
He rolls his eyes. “What kind of bum are you? Do you think there’s no limit to my hospitality?”
“Just this one more thing,” I say and grin at him. “Then I’m done asking favors.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” he says and points behind him. “Help yourself to anything you need from my closet. Just stay away from the Gucci.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking about the Gucci, but I’m sure he’s joking about everything else.
“Thanks, I owe you,” I say and walk past him, swinging a few mock punches in his direction of his stomach, which he expertly dodges.
“Yeah, you do owe me.”
That’s some more trash talking. But he’s also talking truth.
This is just one more favor in a long line of favors his family have done mine.
From taking in my sister, Isabella, when she was hooked on heroin and had disgraced herself by shunning the man she was engaged to, all the way to stepping in and saving my life when said fiancé decided he was offended enough to demand blood.
Dante Moretti. A name I can’t even think about without fiery black hate washing over me like molten lava.
He killed my brother and father, but spared me at the behest of our extended family here.
He made me his bodyguard and proceeded to treat me like shit for the past seven years.
Now I’ve fucked him over yet again, because my sister needed saving from him before he took his revenge on her too.
And because it’s time I either bring honor back to our family name or let it die out with me.
Everything in Nico’s closet is either black, white or some variation of dark grey. I settle on a pair of black pants and black shirt, since I don’t know where he’s taking me to welcome me home, as he put it, and I figure you can never go wrong with the classics.
Half an hour later, I’m showered, shaved and dressed and the sky outside the penthouse windows is probably as dark as it’s gonna get in this city. Basically a dark purple with pockets of light to brighten it all up.
“So where are we going?” I ask, joining him by the window where he’s texting someone.
“Wow, that took you longer than my girlfriend needs,” he says, pocketing the phone.
“Your girlfriend must be exceptionally fast at getting ready then,” I say, grinning at him. “Lucky you.”
It feels good to joke around like this. I haven’t done much of it in the last seven years since I lost my father, brother and most of my closest cousins and friends out West. And my years at Dante Moretti’s mercy…
those involved no kind of joking or even smiling.
No girlfriends either, so I really don’t know how long one of those takes to get ready. I just hear it’s usually a long time.
“All right, let’s go,” Nico announces. “It’s dinner first because I’m starving, and then we’ll pop into the Sphere. DJ Enzo Vital is playing and I want to see what all the hype is about.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say. “Haven’t been to a concert in ages.”
He gives me a sidelong look that’s filled with all sorts of questions, mostly the kind which would need answers that would make this night a total bummer.
“Will there be women?” I add to prevent him from asking any of those questions.
“Always,” he says with a big old grin, hands me a leather jacket by the door then leads the way into the fancy, brass and red carpet-lined elevator.
The crystal chandelier hanging off the ceiling seems like total overkill for an elevator.
But I’m in old money land now and they do things differently here than out west. Or rather, way more extravagantly. I could get used to it.
A few minutes later, we’re whizzing out of the underground garage in Nico’s brand-new Lamborghini. It’s midnight black and sleek as fuck. Not even available to purchase yet, he told me as I admired it like I’d never seen a car before. I could get used to owning cars like this again too.
But I’m gonna have to earn that.
And I’m not gonna worry about that tonight. I’m just gonna let go for one night before getting to work on resurrecting what was squandered through years of bad choices and bad luck, and the old family curse finally getting its way.
I’m also not gonna worry about whether it can even be done in the first place. Because I mean to die trying and there’s no use worrying beyond that.