Chapter 1
Mina
Sixteen Years Old
I pull my knees up to my chin, hugging my legs against my chest as I gaze out at the garden, where my father’s latest protégée meanders about, lost in thought.
Jude Romano has been under my father’s tutelage for a little over a month now, and he’s still an enigma to me.
Most of my father’s soldiers carry an air of brutish ignorance about them as if even a menu would be too complex for them to comprehend. Their vocabulary is limited to kill, maim, and torture, so anything beyond that would only confuse them.
But not Jude.
He looks and acts almost… civilized.
Maybe it’s because he’s American.
Perhaps they grow mafiosos differently across the pond.
Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think Jude wasn’t raised in our way of life at all.
“I’m sorry.”
I can count on one hand the times my father has ever uttered those words to me, and I’m the person he loves most in this world. And yet, Jude apologized for his rudeness effortlessly, as if apologizing for bad behavior was second nature to him.
That’s definitely something I’ve never been accustomed to.
Maybe that’s why I’m so fascinated by the new addition to our household.
He’s… different.
Despite my father’s warnings to steer clear of his soldiers and associates, I’ve kept a watchful eye on our new houseguest.
Or at least, I’ve tried to.
Although my father has offered Jude our home in Kent, he only stays with us on the weekends, preferring to remain closer to his university in London during the week. Unsurprisingly, most of the tasks my father has assigned to him are also in the city.
But it’s the way that he chooses to spend his free time that is so fascinating to me.
First of all, I don’t know many soldiers who regularly attend Sunday mass, yet Jude never misses a sermon. Beyond his academic textbooks, he likes to immerse himself in books about history, business economics, political science, and the occasional thriller mystery. When he’s not doing that, I often find him wandering our gardens, lost in deep thought as if the world’s weight rested upon his shoulders.
He’s always so… serious.
The only time that I’ve even heard him laugh is when he’s FaceTiming his family.
Like clockwork, Jude makes a point to call them after dinner, spending at least an hour chatting with his younger siblings.
Nothing about his behavior shouts out heir to the Chicago crime family.
But hey…
Who am I to judge?
It’s not like anyone looks at me and sees the next in line to inherit my father’s empire, either.
I let out a sigh, allowing my eyes to wander a little longer on our houseguest.
In addition to his odd behavior that intrigues me, I must admit that I don’t mind spending my weekends admiring him either. In a world filled with pretty faces, there’s no denying that Jude is in a league of his own. With sharp, symmetrical features, a strong jawline, piercing hazel eyes, and thick, tousled dark hair, there’s no doubt in my mind that Jude Romano leaves one hell of an impression on anyone he meets.
Me included.
“Careful there, cousin. Your drool is showing,” Remus teases as he plops down next to me in the window nook.
“I am not,” I grumble, hiding my face behind my knees to discreetly wipe my chin just in case.
“Missed a spot,” his brother, Romulus—or Rolo as everyone likes to call him—jokes as he playfully points to the corner of my mouth.
I slap his hand away and groan.
“Don’t you two have anything better to do than to bug me? Can’t you see I’m busy… meditating,” I lie with a straight face.
“No, you aren’t. Don’t be mad because we caught you making googly eyes at the American,” Remus taunts playfully.
“I’m not,” I lie again, feeling my cheeks heat up at the insinuation.
“Yeah, you are,” Rolo piles on, tugging on my braid.
Again, I have to slap my unruly cousin’s hand away.
“You two are insufferable, you know that?”
“No, Rolo is insufferable. I’m a delight,” Remus jokes while Rolo pretends to clutch his chest in mock offense.
“I’d be offended if the insult didn’t come from such a handsome face,” Rolo retorts with a smirk, coaxing me to roll my eyes at their playful banter.
Remus and Rolo are identical twins—so identical that even their own mother struggles to tell them apart.
However, I’ve never had any trouble distinguishing between the two.
Although the twins have maintained their identical looks over the years, boasting almost white-blond hair and striking clear blue eyes, there are always clues that set them apart. Dead giveaways, in fact. All you have to do is pay attention.
Remus is more reserved and contained, while Rolo is loud and exuberant. Remus thinks before opening his mouth, while Rolo blurts out whatever dimwitted thing crosses his mind. Remus is almost calculating in his pragmatism, while Rolo is flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants impulsive. The two could not be more different from one another if they tried, no matter how alike their facial features are.
But one thing they do have in common is their undying love and loyalty to each other and to me.
They’re my best friends, even if they are a total pain in my arse sometimes.
“Is this what you’ve been doing all day? Staring at the American?” Rolo asks before taking a peek at Jude in the garden.
“Keep your voice down. I don’t want Daddy to hear you,” I scold while pushing Rolo away from the window in case Jude looks this way and catches us in the act.
“Don’t worry about that. Uncle Victor is too busy listening to our mum yammer on about her new philanthropic venture.” Rolo yawns.
“She’s asking Daddy for money again? That’s the third time this month,” I grumble, hating that my Aunt Pippa’s hand can’t seem to spend more than a couple of days away from slithering into my father’s pocket. “Your mum should get herself a real job instead of asking Daddy for money all the time.”
Remus and Rolo look at each other for a split second before bursting into laughter.
“That will be the day. Mum doesn’t believe in hard work, only in charity. And we all know she’s the biggest charity case there is.” Remus scoffs.
I would never talk about my father the way my cousins talk about their mother.
But then again, I have no reason to.
Yes, my father dabbles in less savory ventures, but at least he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to support his family.
Aunt Pippa is still trapped in the dark ages. She believes that a man should be the sole breadwinner in the household, while a woman’s role is simply to look beautiful by his side. She isn’t concerned about how a man earns his living either, as long as he is successful in what he does to maintain a certain type of lifestyle.
However, when it comes to a woman’s behavior, she holds a more stringent view. A woman should never work unless it’s for charity purposes, and even then, it’s only to elevate the prestige of her husband. A woman should never speak her mind freely unless she’s in the presence of family. In other words, a woman should be a pretty, silent doll with no true thoughts of her own.
She’s made it very clear to me that I, too, will be a pretty ornament in some man’s arms when the time comes.
Thankfully, Daddy is of a different mindset.
He’s raised me to be my own woman—independent and free from such outdated conformities. In fact, I know that his biggest dream is for me to lead The Firm when the day comes for him to step down. However, I’m not sure if The Firm is ready to be given orders by a woman. Crime syndicates aren’t exactly known for being open-minded or progressive.
Fortunately, I have plenty of time to think about that since Daddy isn’t retiring anytime soon.
All I know is that I won’t be taking Aunt Pippa’s advice, no matter how many times she shovels her misogynistic ideologies down my throat.
I bet if Jude asked you to be his eye candy, you wouldn’t say no.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I glance out the window and spot Jude sitting on the grass, relishing the cool autumn breeze on his face.
He really is something.
“You’re drooling again,” Remus taunts, pulling my focus back to the room.
“Mina has a crush. Mina has a crush,” Rolo starts to sing like a damned first-grader.
“Will you quit it?!”
“You know he’ll only stop once you admit you got the hots for pretty boy over there,” Remus says, pointing out the window towards Jude.
“I do not,” I reply adamantly, my voice firm.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Rolo chimes in, his laughter ringing out like a hyena’s cackle.
“I’m not lying!” I protest, feeling the flush creeping further into my cheeks. “If you must know, he intrigues me. That is all,” I finally concede, anxiously glancing around, hoping my cousins lower their voices before someone overhears us.
“Oh, he intrigues me,” Rolo continues to joke, saying the word as if I were some posh spinster.
“Will you please act your age?!” I reprimand.
“You first.” Rolo laughs before imitating me again. “Look at me. I’m Lady Mina Crane, and I get off acting like I’m an old woman.”
“It’s called having decorum, asshole. You should try it sometime.”
“No, it’s called being boooooooring.”
“God, I hate you.” I jump up from the nook and walk to the other side of the room just to get away from the pest.
Remus is quick to do damage control by walking over to me, wrapping his arms around me from behind, and resting his chin gently on my shoulder.
“Don’t be angry at him. You know Rolo’s just teasing. We both are.”
“Well, I don’t find it funny.”
“You really should,” Rolo goads from the other side of the room, making it clear he’s eavesdropping on us. “All that scowling is going to give you frown lines. It’s one thing to sound like a hag. It’s another to look like one.”
I turn around to see my annoying cousin sprawled out in my reading nook, his hands resting behind his head, with a Cheshire cat smile stitched to his lips.
“You really are nothing but trouble,” I scold, only for his smile to widen.
“You call it trouble. I call it having fun. Who’s to say who’s right and who’s wrong.”
“Enough, Rolo,” Remus reprimands with a stern tone.
Rolo opens his mouth, ready to say something, but when his twin gives him a death glare, he wisely decides to keep whatever new taunt he came up with to himself.
Figures.
There’s only one person in this world who has the power to bring Rolo to heel, and that’s Remus.
“Are you still mad?” Remus asks after a while.
“Furious,” I retort, though I don’t actually mean it.
I could never truly be mad at my cousins.
Although they sometimes test my patience, I love them dearly.
“How about we make it up to you,” Remus offers with an earnest grin.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“We can start by helping you learn more about the American.”
“How?”
“Have you checked his room yet?”
I widen my eyes at Remus’s suggestion.
“That would be an invasion of privacy.”
“This is your house, so technically, everything in it belongs to you. A little peek wouldn’t hurt.”
“I don’t know…” I chew on my bottom lip, not entirely comfortable with Remus’s plan.
“Don’t you want to know if he has a special someone back home? Or do you intend to pine for a guy who’s already taken?” Remus whispers in my ear as unexpected jealousy begins to seep through my pores, my hands balling into fists.
“What are you two waiting around for? Let’s go already,” I command.
“There she is! Now, that’s the cousin we love. Come on, Mina. Let’s do some snooping,” Rolo says enthusiastically, quickly jumping out of his seat, excited about his new-found way of getting himself into trouble.
I never even considered sneaking into Jude’s room and invading his privacy until Remus suggested it. Not once. But it’s only fair that I know a bit more about who my father decided to bring into our home. For all I know, he could be some psychopath.
If that were the case and you were truly scared of psychopaths, you wouldn’t spend so much time with the twins.
You can tell yourself whatever lies you want, but the truth of the matter is that the twins were right—you do have a little crush on him.
“Wait! What if he catches us?” I ask, halting my step.
“He won’t. He’s too busy daydreaming,” Remus answers, disgust evident in his voice as he watches Jude sitting on the grass, gazing up at the sky.
Again. What kind of mafioso does that?
“Okay, let’s go,” I say before I lose my nerve.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Rolo shouts excitedly.
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the living room before I have time to change my mind. Remus runs behind us as we race up the stairs and head to the west wing of the manor, where Jude’s room is located.
I know we shouldn’t be doing this, but my curiosity takes over.
Daddy always says that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission anyway.
“Rolo, stay out here and be the lookout,” Remus orders once we reach Jude’s bedroom door.
“Why me? Why do I have to miss out on all the fun?” Rolo grumbles, folding his arms across his chest.
“Because someone has to do it, and it can’t be Mina. We’re doing this for her, remember?” Remus hikes up his brow.
“Then you be the lookout,” Rolo counters like an errant child.
“Will you two just make up your minds already before someone catches us?!” I half whisper, half yell.
“Fine. I’ll stay out here. But you owe me one.” Remus points a finger at his brother.
“Don’t I always?” Rolo winks.
“Enough chit-chat, and let’s do this,” I command with my hand already firmly gripped around the doorknob.
Without a moment to waste, I swing open the door and quickly enter the room, pulling Rolo inside before sealing it shut. I then turn around, only to discover an impeccably clean and organized room for a nineteen-year-old.
“I thought today was the maids’ day off?” Rolo asks in confusion, eyeing the neatly made bed.
“It is. Jude must have tidied it himself.” I smile, pleased to know that Jude can take care of himself without having to rely on the help.
Lord knows Rolo’s room is a dumpster fire at times. I pity whoever has to clean up after him.
“Whatever. You take that side. I’ll take this side,” he orders, far too invested in scouring the place for my liking.
Hmm.
Maybe I’m not the only one who wants to learn more about our houseguest.
While Rolo rummages through the drawers of Jude’s dresser, I make my way over to his desk. The first thing that catches my eye is his university textbooks, most of which are filled with notes and highlighted passages. The second thing that captures my interest is a large, silver frame that encases a collage of photographs, each with what I can only assume is Jude’s most cherished memories.
One of the photographs features Jude with his arm around a blond boy half his age, whose ocean-blue eyes and shy smile are just as endearing as the proud smile on Jude’s face. Next to it is a picture of a red-haired girl, no more than five by my estimate, gazing lovingly at the baby nestled in young Jude’s arms. My lips curve into a smile as I glance at the next photo, discovering Jude laughing joyfully, surrounded by two boys—twins, no less—pelting him with snowballs.
I then come across pictures of an even younger Jude. The first image shows him eating ice cream while sitting atop the shoulders of a grinning giant. Right beside the behemoth stands another man, one that gazes up at Jude with nothing but love in his eyes, letting his own ice cream melt away in his hand.
The next photo was taken in front of a charming little house with a white picket fence, where a young Jude and another sturdy man are playing catch with baseball mitts and a ball in the front yard.
The picture below that one is different than the others, though. You can tell that it was taken by a real photographer, and not some family member or friend, like the others must have been. It features a man with a blank expression on his face, lowering himself to Jude’s eye level as he attempts to fix his tie. Dressed as if for his wedding day, the man’s expression remains stoic and unreadable. When I look more closely into the hazel of his eyes and see the way they shine with pure, unadulterated happiness, I realize that this man must be Jude’s father—the infamous Vincent Romano.
However, it’s the image at the very center of the collage that truly draws me in. It features a young, beautiful woman gazing down at a sleeping baby in her arms, her expression filled with such love and adoration that you can almost feel the warmth radiating from the photograph.
This must be Selene Romano, Jude’s mother.
The Red Queen.
Hmm.
Jude has surrounded himself with family, yet he flew an entire ocean to live away from them.
Why?
An enigma. Just as I thought.
“Jackpot!” I hear Rolo shout behind me.
“What is it? What did you find?” I ask after carefully placing the frame back in its spot.
He waves a book at me as if it has all the answers I’m looking for.
“Looks like the Yank likes to journal. What a pussy.”
“Hey!” I punch him on the shoulder. “Loads of people have journals nowadays.”
“Not ones that spend their nights killing people.”
I swallow dryly since I never even considered that Jude might have to do that.
But then again, if he works for my father, it’s only a matter of time before he has to.
“It’s called being emotionally evolved,” I reply instead, needing to push that thought out of my mind. “You should try it sometime.”
“Pass. It will be a cold day in hell before you catch me writing down my feelings and shit. Especially since that’s a good way to get caught by The Yard . Your father won’t be happy about this when we tell him.”
“Who says we are?”
When Rolo turns his gaze away from mine, I give him another punch.
“Is that why we really stormed Jude’s room? For you and Remus to find dirt on him? I thought you were here to help me.”
“Both things can be true,” he retorts with a shrug.
“Get out! You had your fun.”
“Not before I read what Shakespeare has written down.”
But before Rolo has time to crack Jude’s journal open, I snatch it away from his hands and hide it behind my back.
“Give it here, Mina. I’m not messing around.”
“You want it? Come and get it. I dare you.”
He gazes at me with steely eyes, yet he doesn’t dare put his hands on me in the end.
“Fine. Keep the damn journal. Just know that I’m going to tell Uncle Victor about it either way.”
“You will do no such thing.”
“Oh yeah? Who’s going to stop me?”
I eat the distance between us and look him dead in the eye.
“You won’t say anything because I’m asking you not to. That should suffice. I would do it for you.”
“Fuck. You don’t play fair, Mina.”
“Like any of us do?” I chuckle.
“Fair point. Fine. Keep the fucking journal. It was the only good thing in here, anyway. Aside from that, Pretty Boy is as clean-cut as they come. Boring. Just like you. Now I see why you like him so much.”
“Hardy har har,” I joke sarcastically.
Rolo walks out of the room to join his twin while I put Jude’s journal back on top of his nightstand.
But before I can take a step away from it, my curiosity starts to take over once more.
“Don’t do it, Mina. Don’t do it,” I tell myself while I stare at the black leather journal, taunting me to read its pages.
I wouldn’t like it if someone read my diary—if I had one, that is. Growing up with those two little renegade monsters, I quickly learned never to pen down my inner thoughts at the risk of having them used against me.
I should probably tell Jude that he can’t keep something so personal like that lying around. But if I did that, then I’d have to admit to snooping in his room.
And there is no way I’m telling him that. He already acts like I’m a child. I refuse to give him the ammo to prove that I am one.
Problems… problems… problems.
Okay.
I’ll read just one passage.
One passage can’t hurt.
Right?
And before I can talk myself out of it, I open the journal to his last entry and, to my shame, start to read.
A good son shouldn’t harbor ill feelings toward his parents the way I do toward mine.
It feels wrong.
Like I’m doing something that I shouldn’t.
They think I hate them.
I don’t.
I could never.
But I let them think that anyway.
What kind of son does that?
Truth be told, I miss my parents. My mom, especially.
God, I miss my mom.
She used to be the one person I could always rely on. The one I sought refuge in when I was scared or felt alone. My mother was everything to me. Since the day I came into this world, she made sure to always protect me.
But somewhere along the line, that became her default setting.
A habit she can’t quite break.
Whereas before, her protection was needed, now it feels like a noose around my neck.
I hate that we’re like this now.
That I can’t tell her what I’ve been up to or the things that I have seen.
It feels wrong not to share these new experiences with her.
But if I told her the truth, she would never forgive me.
Worse … she would probably be on the first plane here to bring me back stateside.
Part of me actually wonders if she is in the right and I’m the one who’s in the wrong.
But how could she ever expect me to be normal when my whole life was anything but?
If James were here, he’d know what to do.
He would know exactly what words to use to talk some sense into my mother.
My father, on the other hand, just does whatever she wants, with no regard for what I want.
It’s as if my needs aren’t a match to my mother’s.
It breaks my heart that she is so disappointed in me, especially considering that she was the one who brought us to this point.
From the very beginning, my mother was the one who sowed the seed of what it meant to be Romano. Perhaps if she had lied to me—if she had shared the harsh realities and ugliness of life as a made man early on—I might not have romanticized it the way I did.
But she didn’t.
She talked about family, honor, and duty.
Values written in ink beneath my skin and that I will always live by—made man or not.
Maybe one day, she will see that this was never a choice for me—but my destiny.
Maybe then she’ll understand.
Maybe then … we will stop wasting precious time being hateful to each other.