Chapter Forty-Six #2
“Well…” Enzo’s eyes swept over the couple, who sat next to us. Lila was talking to Tiernan animatedly, moving her hands. His gaze was locked squarely on her bouncy breasts. “I can think of at least two reasons.”
I gave his shoulder a push. “Pervert.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched Sofia woodenly taking her place next to Luca.
Jeremie settled on the other side of her, and Katya slipped into the seat next to her brother.
I guess Jeremie was still here for the time being, but not for long.
The tension from that side of the table made invisible spiders crawl along my skin.
Achilles scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on me. I fiddled with my phone, feigning deep fascination with an incoming message some scammer had sent me about getting my roof redone. He stalked toward me like a summoned demon.
“Hey, Enzo?” Achilles drawled.
“Yo.”
“Fuck off.”
“Nuh-uh. You can’t talk to me like that anymore.” Enzo flung his elbow onto the back of his seat. “I’m your superio—”
“If you don’t evacuate your ass from my woman’s vicinity, I’m going to cut out your larynx with a blunt spoon and feed it to my pet snake.”
Enzo flashed Luca a look of disbelief.
Luca shrugged. “His woman, his rules. I’m not interfering in this.”
“I’m not his woman.” I fixed the napkin next to my plate, not bothering to keep the pettiness out of my voice.
“You have a pet snake?” Katya asked excitedly. “That’s so cool.”
Achilles ignored her, taking the now-vacant seat next to me, his eyes hard on my profile. “Hello to you, too.”
“You seemed busy.” I sounded like a jealous teenybopper, and somehow, I couldn’t muster one damn. Between disappearing for a whole week and flirting with Igor’s daughter, he wasn’t winning any points with me tonight.
“It was just small talk.”
I barked out a laugh. “Small talk, huh? Sounds like big bullshit to me.”
“You’re acting like a child.”
“At least I’m not about to marry one.”
Our conversation got cut off by a sea of servers who flooded the table at once, unloading savory Italian dishes and an unholy amount of wine. I tried focusing on the food, too distressed by the realization I was very close to stabbing a fork through Katya from across the table.
I told myself it had something to do with the fact she was the daughter of the dead Russian pakhan who’d abused me, but from what Tiernan had told me, all of Igor’s spawn loathed their slain father with a passion.
Moreover, despite not seeing Alex, the new pakhan, for fifteen years, I had been fond of him growing up.
Fortunately, the food was mouthwatering and the conversation flowed. The women talked shopping, the men soccer. Vello just sat there, drooling as a nurse spoon-fed him a mashed version of our dishes. I had to admit, I liked this new version of him much better.
“Tier, are you okay?” Lila rubbed my back every five minutes, swinging her gaze from me to her father. “You’re feeling comfortable, right?”
“Right,” I muttered. God, I loved her, but she really needed to stop treating me like a baby.
After the entrees and wine were demolished, trays of champagne and dessert flooded the room. Achilles stood and clinked a flute with a fork. “I’d like to make a toast.”
Everyone sat up straighter. My stomach churned, everything inside it threatening to pour back out. This was it. The big announcement. He and Katya were getting married.
He raised the champagne glass in the air. “To my brother Enzo and his new fiancée, Katya Rasputin. May their union bring the two families peace, prosperity, and continue our respective legacies.”
My fork tumbled from between my fingers, clinking noisily on my plate. My gaze skated to Enzo, who sat still, face unreadable, fingers curled around the armrests to the point of white knuckles.
What? I mouthed to him in disbelief. Only I had confirmation of Enzo’s secret—that he had an active profile on an LGBTQ+ hookup app called Queerdr—also known as queer Tinder—a location-based app for casual sex.
One day Enzo got matched with a good friend of mine, Calvin.
And even though they never ended up meeting, it was enough for me to give Enzo a call and yell at him to change his profile picture, username, and other dead giveaways that could reveal his identity.
Enzo swore up and down he wasn’t gay—that he was just, and I quote, conducting important research.
The younger Ferrante brother tossed a careless shoulder in response.
“With this, we bury the Bratva and Camorra’s feud,” Achilles continued.
Katya blushed, still staring at Achilles with big, adoring blue eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out neither the groom nor the bride was happy about this union.
“This also concludes Jeremie’s time with us,” Achilles announced pointedly, staring down the Russian with a glare as deadly as bullets.
Jeremie didn’t balk as their gazes clashed. “I’m staying in New York.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“You have no authority in this decision.” Luca’s rough voice knifed through the tension. My spine snapped to attention, my eyes ping-ponging across the table. “You’re a mere soldier. A Rasputin but a soldier. Alex calls the shots.”
Oh, goodie. I haven’t even touched my champagne and already, they’re serving tea.
“I do, actually. No New York, no Katya; no Katya, no alliance.” Jeremie’s brusque tone raised goose bumps on every arm in the room.
His voice was so monotone, so assured, Satan himself wouldn’t defy him.
“And no alliance means war. Long. Bloody. And one that lacks any rules or regulations. Alex may be the decision-maker, but I can pull a lot of strings and cause a lot of trouble, given the time and inclination.” A wicked glint ignited his sapphire pupils.
“Don’t give me both. It’s either a full-blown war, or we do shit my way.
Now, go call Lyosha and let him know I’m still needed here. ”
Jeremie’s shoulder kissed Sofia’s ever so slightly, and color shot to her tan cheeks. I blinked in disbelief. Fiery tension crackled between the two like live, uncontrollable fire. Even the silverware on the table could tell there was something going on.
Were they in love? If so, it didn’t seem like Luca knew or cared.
Achilles and Luca exchanged frowns. Luca seemed exasperated but hardly bothered.
He sighed, taking out his pistol and kicking back Sofia’s chair in one smooth movement.
She sailed backward, her back crashing against the wall.
Luca now had a clear shot at Jeremie. Sofia yelped, her body jerked forward.
She was itching to throw herself between them but stopped short.
Lila stood and rushed to Sofia to make sure she was okay.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jeremie’s eyes shot fire. “She’s pregnant.”
“My baby, my business.” Luca pointed his .45 at Jeremie. “Now, you’re getting the fuck outta here, either in a body bag or with an arm shot. Choose wisely.”
“Oh, Santo Cielo!” Chiara tossed her napkin on the table. “Of course my children couldn’t give me one decent meal without bullets flying around.”
“How about a cig break?” I turned to Enzo after it was obvious Sofia wasn’t hurt. He took one dispassionate glance at the dessert he knew he wasn’t going to touch in a million years before pocketing his cigarette pack. “Sure.”
We made our exit to the sound of Jeremie and Luca negotiating. I was over that entire screwed-up family. Not that my family was better—far from it. But at least there weren’t so many of us.
When we reached the backyard, we settled on the lounge chairs by the pool. Enzo lit a joint and took a hit, passing it on to me.
“This marriage is not going to bode well for anyone.” I inhaled until the smoke reached the bottom of my lungs, handing the joint back to him. “I’m worried you’re trying to prove something to yourself by going along with it.”
“Jesus, Tier.” He shot me a lower your voice glare, even though we were clearly alone. “I don’t even know if I’m…you know.”
“Enzo…”
I didn’t pretend to know him any more than he knew himself, but I did know that Enzo Ferrante was passionate about all things he did and touched—from killing his enemies, to protecting his family.
Everything he did, he did fiercely. It made no sense at all that he’d be so dim, so disinterested when it came to love.
Unless, of course, he’d been molded and forced to try to love the wrong people.
“It’s true. I’m straight. I am. I’m just…intrigued. Variety is the spice of life, after all.”
I didn’t even bother answering him. Just shot him a really? look.
The tips of his ears, which were oddly perfect, like the rest of him, turned red. “I’ve never even kissed a man, let alone been with one. So far, I’ve only talked with them on the app.”
“Well, what brings you to flirt with men online?”
“Curiosity. Boredom. My inherent tendency to fuck up my life and hurt myself. Exhibit number three thousand.” He took a pull of the joint, jerking his chin toward his bare arms. Corded muscles flexed beneath skin inked to perfection.
But beneath the beautiful art he wore on himself were jagged scars. “You know I like variety.”
But he didn’t. He’d had a steady girlfriend since high school before Achilles pumped and dumped her to prove to him that he wasn’t straight.
Everyone could see Enzo’s blatant disinterest with the fairer sex.
Just because he hadn’t mustered up the courage to explore his sexuality didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
“Maybe I’m asexual,” he mused.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“It’s possible!”
“It’s not.” That man loved getting his dick sucked more than Abraham loved God. Every time I spotted him in an underground club, he seemed to have a head bobbing beneath his waist. It was easier to enjoy blow jobs when you could close your eyes and pretend the person servicing you was someone else.
“Fine.” Enzo rolled his eyes. “I agree. I’m too hot not to fuck. God’s sense of humor can’t be that cruel.”