1. Chapter One
1
Sofia - One Year Later
"What do you mean, you're firing me?" I stood in the doorway to the manager's office with my purse in hand. The crowd at the bar roared behind me as the Sox scored another run.
"Look, Sofia,” Davey sat with his feet kicked up on the desk, his shaved head reflecting the overhead lights. "We’ve got to downsize, and you're the newest server."
"If you’re downsizing, why did you promote Kimberly last week?" I shot back.
I already knew why he’d promoted her. Kimberly was blond, pert, and petite, and she looked better in the uniform than I did. I'd gained 20 pounds since graduation, and this uniform was designed for someone a size or two smaller than me. I tugged up the painfully tight Hooters-knockoff tank and shorts I was practically spilling out of. Well, at least I'd never have to squeeze myself into this damned thing again. So long, Tipsy’s Sports Bar.
Davey just shrugged and adjusted his crotch.
"Fine. You know what? Fine." I put my hands on my hips, impatient to get out of there now that I knew the real story. "Cash me out and I'm gone."
"You'll get your final paycheck in two weeks," Davey grunted, but I cut him off.
"What about my tips?" It was an hour before closing, and I had a sinking feeling that I knew what the answer was.
"We already took you out of the system, so—"
"You mean you took my share of the tips, and you're not giving them to me."
Davey shook his head and gave me a shit eating grin. "It’s already done, Sofia."
Mother. Fucker . "So, you made me come in for a full shift--"
"Half a shift."
"It's an hour ‘til closing!" I crossed my arms. "I worked two sections all by myself, and I had that table of twelve. This is bullshit!"
"What's going on, guys? Why's everyone yelling?"
I looked over my shoulder to see Kimberly standing there, all five foot two inches of her. She was a tiny thing, with her blond hair pulled into a ponytail, a little face and small, perky tits. Obviously, Davey had a type. I, on the other hand, looked like a stuffed sausage next to her. Humidity had turned my naturally curly hair frizzy and dull, straining the limits of my hair tie. Dark olive complexion, dark eyes, full lips, wide hips—I was the antithesis of girls like Kimberly.
"None of your business, Kimberly," I said through gritted teeth, looking back at Davey. She was the last person I wanted to see. We had done nothing but butt heads since day one, and the fact that she was screwing the dirtbag of an owner, Davey—who also happened to have a girlfriend—only added to her sense of entitlement. Kimberly had constantly tried to undermine and humiliate me, but I never let my irritation show. I needed this job too much.
"I think it is my business, Sofia, especially since they can hear you bellowing all the way to the bar," she said cheerfully, and I rolled my eyes.
"I didn't bellow," I corrected her. “Italians don't bellow. We explain. Loudly. "But Davey here just told me he’s firing me and stealing my tips, so yeah, I'm a little upset."
Kimberly made a pouty face. "Oh, boo hoo. You'll get over it. Just get out of here already and stop being such a drama queen. That's why you never fit in around here, Sofia. Too much Italian drama. You can't even make it through a shift without throwing a tantrum. You're lucky we gave you a job."
I opened my mouth to tell her exactly where she could put her job when Davey intervened. "Enough, Kimberly. Sofia, just go."
Out on the main floor, the Sox scored again, and the patrons cheered. I clenched my jaw, wanting to argue, but I had nothing to gain. They'd already taken my tips and fired me.
What did I have to lose?
Not breaking eye contact with Davey, I leaned my head out the door and hollered in my best Italian bellow, "Free drinks on the house!"
Davey swore viciously and scrambled to his feet, Kimberly on his heels. I waited a few seconds, enjoying the chaos as Davey tried to wrestle back control of the bar, then I calmly walked over to the petty cash box on the desk and picked the lock with a bobby pin from my hair.
I'm not a thief by nature. I worked hard to get good grades, and I paid my own way through college. Partied, yes, but always under the radar. Growing up in the mafia taught me that. I've never gotten so much as a parking ticket. But I was not about to walk out of there without the tips I had earned.
Besides—you don't mess with a Moretti.
I pulled out the stack of twenty-dollar bills, counted out 200 even, and tucked them into the back of my skimpy shorts. Davey had been skimming from the top for weeks; everybody knew it. The cash probably wouldn’t even be missed.
With a satisfied smirk, I collected my purse and walked out of the front door, past the chaos I'd created with my head held high.
“Hey, Sofia!”
I turned as a willow thin bottle-blond trotted out and caught up to me under the overhang. Beth was another junior server and—unfortunately for her—Davey’s long-suffering girlfriend. I liked her, though. Taste in men aside, we got along well, and her dry humor and don’t-give-a-flying-fuck attitude made the stench of fried foods, stale beer, and the leers from dirty pigs with a serious case of the grabby-hands not seem quite so bad.
Beth blinked her doe eyes up at me and offered me a cigarette from a crushed pack, but I shook my head.
“Sucks about the job. I just heard.” She lit her cigarette and blew two dragon-like streams of smoke from her nostrils. “Davey’s a fucking idiot.”
“That’s stating the obvious, don’t you think?”
Beth’s painted lips quirked up in a smile, but then flattened. “No, I mean he’s literally an idiot. Yeah, Kimberly never liked you—I think she felt threatened, honestly, and you probably would’ve been a goner anyway, but the real reason Davey fired you? He’s strapped for cash. You know he owes money all over town, right? Some pretty big names, too. These guys are connected.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I mean, connected , connected.”
I pretended to be shocked. Davey was just the kind of idiot to get wrapped up in that kind of thing. “Do you have any idea who?”
“Some Italian guy. I saw him once when Davey was late with a payment. Big scary fucker, threatened to break both Davey’s hands if he was late again.” Beth shrugged and tapped the end of her cigarette with nails that were bitten down to the quick. “That was three months ago. Asshole better come up with the money quick, or they’re going to do a lot worse.”
Great. Davey owed money to my family. Just one more reason getting fired from Tipsy’s might have been for the best.
After the fallout from the war with the Irish, I had taken great pains to distance myself from that life, for better or for worse. My life wasn’t the greatest, but at least I didn’t have to worry about getting shot or kidnapped anymore. If making the rent was my biggest problem, I’d take it.
Beth put her hand on my arm, and I caught a glimpse of the butterfly tattoo on the inside of her wrist. I’d noticed it before, the way the colors were strangely muted like they’d been leached from her skin, unfinished. Kind of like her, I guess.
“I just wanted to tell you that getting fired wasn’t your fault,” she said. “Davey’s panicking, which is why he cut you. Another dumb move in my opinion, because you’re one of the best servers we have.”
“Had,” I corrected.
“Had. I’m going to miss you,” Beth’s smile turned wry. “Especially now that I’m stuck with that bitch Kimberly.”
I made a face. Working with Kimberly was bad enough, let alone when she was screwing your boyfriend. I honestly didn’t know what Beth saw in Davey. Kimberly wasn’t the first girl he had cheated on Beth with, and she wouldn’t be the last.
I looked at Beth. She was vain and a little flighty, but she had been a solid friend and an ally working at Tipsy’s. She deserved better than Davey, especially if he was in deep with the mafia.
“I have to ask, Beth, why Davey?” I shook my head. “You could do so much better than him.”
Beth leaned against the brick wall. “Maybe, but…we’ve been together for so long, it’s like…a constant, you know? A known factor. I don’t have to worry about Davey, because I already know the worst he could do to me.”
That was a terrible reason for staying with somebody. “He cheats on you.”
“So do a lot of men. At least Davey doesn’t try to hide it from me. He’s not a bad guy, really.”
“No, he just owes a lot of money to the type of people you don’t want to be owing money too.”
Beth shrugged again. “He’ll come up with it one way or another. Davey told me he’s going to take me and my Mom on a cruise when all this blows over. Kind of sweet, right?”
Yeah. Kind of sweet, except apparently Davey was still having enough of a cash flow problem that he felt the need to fire me. That didn’t bode well for their relationship, as it was. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he skipped town.
I waved Beth off before she could start listing more of Davey’s “attributes.” Pulling out my phone, I typed my address into a text message and sent it to her. “Well, if things get hairy and you need a place to crash, this is my address.”
“Davey’s harmless.” Beth looked down as her phone chimed with my text. “Thanks, though.”
“Just be safe, okay?”
“I always am.” Beth squinted out at the rain coming down past the overhang that sheltered us. “You’ve got a ride, right? It’s cats and dogs out there.”
“Of course.” I gave her a hug. “I’ll see you around.”
“See you.”
The rain was a warm, heavy summer downpour that turned the gutters into mini rivers that poured over the tops of my shoes. I walked to the T, glad I had brought my umbrella. Last month I’d sold my car to pay for rent, a decision I bitterly regretted at the moment, but one that I was going to be thankful for in the morning when I woke up and the fact that I'd been fired finally sank in.
If I didn't find a job by the end of the month, I was going to have to give up my apartment.
I felt the hot prick of tears and wiped them away angrily. I wasn't going to cry, I decided, squaring my shoulders. I was going to fix this.
The T wasn’t busy this time of night, but I still took a seat near the doors with my back to the wall, once hand in my purse around the little pistol I kept in there. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but the past year had taught me that money and connections won’t protect you from a bullet. In fact, they might actually attract them, especially if you’re a single woman riding the T home by herself. And being a Moretti, even by blood rather than by name, meant that I would always have a target on my back.
I took the T home, then walked the ten minutes to my apartment in Charlestown with my umbrella braced against the rain, for all the good it did me. By the time I reached my front door, my hair was plastered to my head, my shirt was sticking to me, and my shorts were riding up my ass. I pulled the keys from my purse and let myself in to my apartment.
A two-bedroom, corner suite in a renovated brick building overlooking the park, my apartment had been a graduation present from my brother, Julian. Or, at least, the nest egg I'd used for the rent was. Julian had been so proud of me, the former party girl buckling down and graduating from Boston College with a political science degree and a GPA of 3.6. He'd gifted me a hefty nest egg, and I told myself a little splurging on a place of my own wouldn't hurt after what I'd been through.
That had been one year ago, though, and the nest egg was gone.
I thought I would be able to get a job quickly. That's what they always tell you in college, but it's a lie. One month turned into two, and as my nest egg dwindled, I realized I'd have to suck it up and lower my expectations.
As it turns out, a poli sci degree doesn't amount for shit in the real world. My primary job as a cashier at Shaws Supermarket required zero brain cells and a level of humility I hadn't yet experienced, but it still wouldn't cover the rent. Up until today, working at Tipsy's barely earned me enough to cover the rest of my bills, but now that was gone.
I was screwed.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Not really in the mood for conversation but worried it was Beth second-guessing herself, I checked it, but nope. It was Aria.
Aria Moretti was Dante’s kid sister, a glamorous mafia princess still proudly shoring up the cliché that organized crime was a man’s world, and women were best served a glitzy window dressing on the arm of some mafioso thug. Husband hunting was a sport to her.
But Aria was a friend and the last tie I had to my old life. Sometimes I cringed when I thought back to how na?ve that Sofia had been; a spoiled, entitled little rich girl more concerned with boys and partying than what was paying the bills.
I sighed and took off my wet clothes in the bathroom, leaving them on the floor to deal with later. I pulled on my robe and went to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of wine on the way. Stepping out onto the covered balcony, I wrapped my hands around the wine glass and closed my eyes, listening to the rain as it came down. The rain felt good, and scent of it washed away the heavy smell of stale beer and fried food that hung around my hair after a shift at Tipsy's.
I was going to lose everything.
At least I had tomorrow off to think about a solution. I took a long sip of wine and weighed my options.
Telling my brother the truth was not an option; Julian would mask his disappointment with worry and try to ride in on his white steed to save the day. I didn't think I could handle either the humiliation of admitting my failure to him or the lecture that would follow.
Aria might understand, but she couldn't help; she still lived in the sheltered, soap-bubble of a world at the family compound. She would be a shoulder to cry on, but that was about it.
My thoughts drifted to Luca.
Luca and I had a complicated history. He had been a part of my life ever since I could remember, even before he'd become an official part of the family. Luca had been living in the same group home as Emilia after his parents' death. Emilia hadn't been there long before Lorenzo came to scoop her up, but she had already become best friends with Luca. He was her protector, of sorts, and as the years wore on and Luca grew from a boy into a man, Lorenzo collected him, too.
Lorenzo Moretti had a habit of finding broken boys and giving them a family, a purpose. He was a hard man to get to get close to, but once you were in, he would never let you go. He'd brought Luca into his home when he was fifteen and given him a job as a runner. By eighteen, Luca was a soldier for the family, and a few years after that, Lorenzo made him a capo. Luca was a natural, easygoing and intelligent with a charm that would have put him right in the thick of things had he only been born a Moretti. But he wasn't, and that was something Lorenzo's sons could never forgive.
Dominic and Angel Moretti were born with all the entitled arrogance of mafia princes, and they looked at Luca as nothing more than an outside interloper. They had been jealous of his accomplishments and favor with Lorenzo, and they'd made his life hell. It had been water off a duck's back to Luca, though, who dealt with the two princes with his usual good-natured tolerance.
It wasn't until Angel set his sights on Emilia that everything changed.
Emilia became embroiled in a violent love triangle that nearly tore our family apart, and I watched Luca's heart break as she ultimately chose Alfie Doyle, a soldier with the Irish mob. Despite the fact that he was still in love with Emilia, Luca risked his life to help her and Alfie escape, and it had cost him dearly—Luca was shot in a gunfight between the Italians and the Irish and nearly died.
That was almost two years ago, now. Sometimes, I think back on those days and wish I could go back and shake myself, tell myself to stop being such an idiot. If I had known what the future held, I would have done things differently. I was so naive, so sheltered. A spoiled little party girl. I took my family's love and protection for granted, and I never thought that anything bad could happen.
Now, Emilia and Alfie were in hiding and the family was hanging onto North Boston by our fingernails. Luca woke from his coma after two excruciating months, but he still paid for the past every single day. Julian was desperately trying to piece it all back together, and I was living a lie in Charlestown.
I set down my phone. I couldn't call Luca. I couldn't call any of my friends or family. Aria had her head in the clouds and Julian still thought of me as a child. Sometimes, I even wondered if Luca saw me the same way; after all, he was eight years older than me, and he’d only ever known me as a bratty little kid.
No, If I wanted a way out of this, I was going to have to figure it out myself.
I took another sip of wine and stared out at the park, watching the water drip off the trees. The rain made me want to curl up in a blanket on the couch and read a book, but I had to figure out how to make rent first. #adulting.
So I went back inside, grabbed my laptop from its perch on the coffee table, and booted it up.
***
Knocking at the door woke me up. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. My half-empty wine glass was still sitting on the coffee table and my laptop was still open; I must have fallen asleep. Classy. The knock came again, so I dragged myself up off the couch, shuffled to the door, and looked through the peephole.
Julian.
Shit . I glanced down at myself. I was wearing my robe and nothing else.
"Just a sec!" I called, shuffling to my bedroom and fumbling for a tee shirt and sweatpants.
He knocked again, and I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and opened the door. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" I asked as I stepped aside to let him in.
Julian paused and looked at his wristwatch. "Eleven thirty. AM."
Blearily, I looked out the window. It was still raining, a mealy drizzle of water falling from the sky. The street was wet, and the cars hissed through puddles as they went by.
Julian was still standing in my doorway. His eyes flicked from my mismatched outfit to the coffee table and its half-empty wineglass, missing nothing. "It's also Wednesday. Shouldn't you be at work?"
"I worked late last night," I said quickly, shutting my laptop and its traitorous display of job postings. Well, at least that wasn't a total lie. "Mr. Hastings said I could take the morning off."
Alexander Hastings was the lynch pin on my elaborately concocted web of lies that only seemed to grow more tangled with each passing month. My brother believed that my internship at the City Councilor's office had turned into a secretarial position on an upward trajectory that paid more than enough to cover the insane rent on a two-bedroom park view apartment in Charlestown, and Julian, bless his heart, never questioned it.
"How are things down at the Councilor's office? I saw Hastings announced his bid for re-election; he's got some stiff competition with Alvarez. What's his platform? I hope he's not sticking with the usual rhetoric, he's going to need something new if he wants to pull this one through. We need new ideas, something that will put Boston on the map and pull the young crowd back into politics."
I mumbled something non-committal and moved into the kitchen to make us both some coffee. I didn't want to discuss my non-existent career with Julian; I just wanted him to leave so I could get on with my day. My brother had lofty ambitions to catapult organized crime out of the stone age by using the Moretti empire as a springboard into politics. The problem was, Julian was an idealist who didn't always have the stomach for what it would take to get him there. That was where Luca and Dante came in.
Or, at least, it had been until Luca was shot.
Julian accepted his coffee with a nod of thanks. "I hate to jump straight to business, Sofia, but this isn't a social visit. I need your help."
Like Julian had ever visited me just to chat. My brother was rarely concerned with anything other than business, and I wasn’t an exception; I wasn’t sure he knew the meaning of the term ‘social visit’. Still, whatever had prompted this visit was important enough for Julian to seek me out, so I nodded and sat down on the couch. "Whatever you need."
Julian took a seat across from me in a chair by the window and rubbed his chin. He was clean shaven and meticulously dressed as usual, but I could tell he hadn't slept much. He looked tired, worn out. "I need you to do something for me. It's important, and I need you to keep it between us for now. Can you do that?"
"Of course."
Julian nodded. "We're in trouble, Sofia. The family is in trouble. We can't hold on to North Boston much longer. There's too much unrest, too many factions fighting for power. The Irish are growing in power, the Russians are making inroads, and our own ranks are weak and divided. Sal is running us into the ground. We need to do something before we’re plowed under."
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. This was the most he'd ever told me about what was really going on in the family. That alone told me just how dire the situation had become. "What do you need me to do?"
"I need Luca," he said. "He's always been a part of the inner circle, Sofia, despite what Dominic and Angel said, and the guys respect him. Luca has this way of cutting through the bullshit and calming the masses, and I need that right now."
I frowned. Luca had always been a part of the family, true, but since his recovery he had fallen away, withdrawing and shutting everyone out. Including me. It had been months since Luca had been involved with the business in any capacity, and I wasn't sure how he'd react to being called back in. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to do it.
"Why don't you ask him yourself? Or get Dante to do it. Why do you need me?" I asked.
"That's the problem. I tried. Dante has tried. Luca isn't answering our calls, and I don't want to go barging into his personal space. We're not close like that; we haven't been since..."
Julian drifted off, but I knew what he meant. My brother was too uptight to really get close to anyone. His relationship with Luca was more of a work acquaintance than anything else, but it surprised me to hear that even Dante was getting the brush off from Luca. Not that I really blamed him. Everyone had just about written Luca off under the guise of 'giving him some space,' except for me. Even then, I was embarrassed to admit my weekly visits with Luca were barely more than a check in the box, but I had been too absorbed with my own problems to give it too much thought.
"I need him back at the compound," he continued, "but I don’t want to force him. He's been through so much. I can't put him through anymore. If he comes back, it has to be his choice."
"So you want me to talk to him.”
Julian nodded. "If anyone can convince him, it's you. I'm about to make some waves in the family, and I need him by my side."
I let out a long breath and looked out at the rain. What Julian was asking me to do wasn't impossible, but the fact that Luca wasn't answering anyone’s calls wasn't a good sign. I had no idea if Luca would even see me, let alone humor returning to the compound; I'd had to all but drag him out of his apartment for our weekly coffee dates. And it wasn't like I had anything better to do today.
Like finding another job so I could make rent next month. Yay.
But Julian needed me to do this, and he never asked me for anything. Especially when it came to the family.
I sighed. Family could be such a pain in the ass. "Okay. I'll talk to him."