Chapter 8
Present
Upper East Side, New York City
THERE WAS NOTHING I ENJOYED more than a good party. After everything I’d done and been through in my life, I deserved this. The late summer breeze brushed past my white shirt, the orange sun behind the skyscrapers warming my tan skin.
I wanted to do nothing for the rest of my life other than relax, travel, spend my hard-earned money, eat good food I didn’t have the luxury of a long time ago, take my yacht out into the Mediterranean sea where not a soul would bother me, gamble in Vegas if I wanted to, and fuck models.
Speaking of sex, if only I could get out of my dry spell. I’d been walking around with blue balls and a hard dick for over a month, thinking about how that Donna gripped me by the collar and threatened me with those red lips right in my face.
The way she looked at me with those big, doe eyes… Fuck, she got me hard.
I knew I’d never fuck her. Starting a war with the Italians for one fuck with one of their women was the last thing I’d waste my time doing.
Still, the moment I tried to switch my built-up tension and desire towards another blonde with legs for days, my entire mood was already gone.
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought she did brujeria on me. Though I wouldn’t be surprised, considering she was friends with that hechicera that had my brother’s mind all fucked up.
A fucking fed too. Some ex-government assassin that turned dirty.
She’d almost gotten him killed last month and now she was just laughing with her friends across the rooftop.
Zach stood next to me, glancing at her, smitten as ever, proud of the scars he carried for saving the life of the woman he loved.
He was twenty-four. She was twenty-one. They had no fucking idea what love was.
I mean what kind of idiots decide to go into an abandoned subway station – an enclosed space – to capture an enemy. The other team might as well have written ‘trap’ with their coordinates.
That was the problem with his generation. They believed they were invincible. Like gods. And this incident sure as fuck wouldn’t convince him otherwise.
I hated her.
I hated her for almost taking away the only other person in this world who meant something to me.
He’d been nothing but lucky to survive four bullet shots in the chest. The doctor had called it a miracle, that not one single bullet hit an organ, but instead exactly between them.
And all because he’d given her his bulletproof vest. Maybe she was a bruja after all.
Because it was a goddamn miracle my baby brother was still alive.
No one other than the Donna stood next to her. In a skintight, white dress that almost matched the color of her hair. Silver heels with that red bottom. Long, sharp red nails. Bold, red lips. Platinum hair to her waist. And those evil eyes…
As if she heard me read her unlike everyone around her, her eyes came up to mine without hesitation.
I smirked. She’d known where I was.
Her doe eyes became slits, sending all the evil eye my way, before turning back to her friends.
“So,” Zach cleared his throat next to me, bringing me back. “What do you think?”
His voice was tight. Irritated. He thought I hadn’t been listening. He’d been daydreaming about Maria just moments before.
I turned back to the Made man across from us, a soldier of the DeMones, on theme with a white suit, who’d been talking my ear off for the past twenty minutes about some new drug on the market.
“I’ll look into it. But I’m not selling anything experimental.”
He nodded. “I’ll let my Boss know.”
For a moment I wondered if he was talking about Don DeMone or Francesca.
Zach walked away without another word. I watched after him for a while as he met Maria half-way by the bar.
He was still angry. I understood why. I hadn’t been around for him after our parents passed. He was six at the time; I was sixteen. I sent him to New York to keep him safe, while I stayed behind in Tijuana to rebuild our father’s empire.
I hadn’t meant to make him feel abandoned, though now, at thirty-four, I knew I’d made a mistake. Still, it’d been the best choice for him that I could make at the time.
My eyes scanned the rooftop and everyone’s matching outfits. The DeMone’s annual end-of-summer-white-party or some shit had the underworld and the socialites together.
My gaze landed on Zach again, only to find him making out with Maria by the bar. I rolled my eyes, turning back to the party.
I paused when I saw Francesca was walking toward me with a determination in her eyes that made my chest growl. My brow raised as my gaze unwillingly dropped, giving her a one-over.
Goddamn, she looked criminal in that dress…
There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t curated, from the top of her perfectly styled hair to her crimson pedicure poking out of her open heeled sandals.
She stopped in front of me, crossing her arms and flipping her hair to make a point and bring my attention back to her face.
“Princesa…” I smirked at the way she tried to intimidate me with her proximity – the way the wind was fluttering the hem of my shirt, and grazing her with it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“This new drug,” – She ignored me – “I don’t like it.”
Donna it is…
I ran a hand over my jaw to hide my smirk.
I’d recently come to learn not a lot of people liked Francesca DeMone.
She shared the same qualities most Dons I’d come across. Direct. Violent. No bullshit.
But she was also intelligent, beautiful and unapologetic.
And that was what actually pissed people off. That she was breaking boundaries and challenging stereotypes.
A Donna wasn’t as common to come across in our world, but not unheard of. I actually preferred doing business with women more. I founded they tended to make better leaders, respect deadlines and be better strategists.
She stood there, fire in her eyes, her arms crossed like she owned the room.
Like she owned me.
I let my gaze linger on her mouth, the way her lipstick caught the golden light spilling from the chandeliers overhead. The bass from the party thumped faintly through the walls, laughter and conversation layering behind us, but she commanded my full attention.
“Princesa,” I drawled, leaning just a little closer, enough for her perfume – dark jasmine, smoke, something sinful – to reach me. “If you start a sentence that way, I might think you’re worried about me.”
“I’m worried about my business. Not you.”
I traced my bottom lip with my thumb, enjoying the way her glare deepened when I smiled. “So fierce and passionate… You’d make a man think you were married to your empire instead of… Single.”
My eyes dragged lazily over her, deliberate, lingering on the delicate line of her throat before returning to those fire-lit eyes.
A faint blush touched her cheeks, quick, almost invisible – but I saw it. I always saw it.
She masked it with a scoff. “You think you’re so charming–”
“No, princesa.” I smirked. “I know.”
She laughed sardonically, shaking her head and letting her hair fall over one shoulder instead. She thought she could hide her reaction in irritation, bury it beneath that iron spine of hers.
Her blush betrayed her again, no matter how hard she bit her cheek.
God, I loved watching Francesca DeMone try not to fall apart for me…
“You’re not listening,” she said, her voice low but steady, careful to keep her words precise even over the hum of music from the ballroom. “This is a big deal, Matteo.”
God I loved my name on her lips…
I swirled the liquor in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light before bringing my eyes back to her. “Funny,” I murmured, “I don’t see your father here making this speech. Just you.”
“He doesn’t need to be here. I speak for him.”
God, that pride.
That fire.
It was enough to make a lesser man retreat.
I stepped forward, slow, deliberate. She held her ground.
Now, we were close. Too close. The party carried on around us, blurred and irrelevant. All I saw was Francesca DeMone, chin tipped up at me like she refused to admit I could unsettle her.
I tilted my head, letting the shadows cut across my face as I studied her. “It’s almost like you were looking for my attention tonight.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I leaned close enough for my words to brush her ear, low and teasing, “You came to find me this time.”
Her glare sharpened instantly. “You’re nothing more than a business associate.”
I smirked, straightened, and let the moment stretch.
“Sure I am, Francesca.”
Without another word, I set my glass on a passing tray and walked away, leaving my little Donna standing there, furious – and thinking about me.
I was on the other side of the bar, laughing with Gìo and Zane, when it happened.
A glass shattered.
A gasp from a couple of our friends.
Zach was squeezing his eyes closed, a hand pressed to his chest. Slightly slouching forward, his hand gripping the bar counter.
I rushed over, pushing through the small crowd. “You good, man?”
“I’m fine…” He groaned, rubbing a hand across his chest.
I placed my hand on his back, trying to guide him towards the couches. “Let’s sit down for a moment–”
“Get off me.” Zach pushed me away, making me take a couple steps back. His chest was raising with heavy breaths, anger in his eyes. “I’m good.”
My eyes dropped to the small stain of blood on his white shirt.
Maria stepped between us, trying her best to hide her concern. “Baby, you’re bleeding…”
Zach’s eyes stayed on mine for another moment before lowering to his girlfriend, all anger and frustration disappearing. Then his eyes dropped to his chest and the small patch of red from his undone stich.
Her hand came up to his jaw. “Sit with me?”
“Yeah.”
I watched Maria convince my brother to sit down, before subtly turning to me and speaking when he was out of earshot. “Sorry, Matteo. He just needs a minute. I’ll make sure he’s okay.”
I would’ve liked her, had she not been the reason he was bleeding in the first place.
To avoid any further arguments, I simply nodded.
Turning to walk away, Zane settled his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go check on both of them. Give it ten minutes.”
Zane Takashi was an ex-assassin from Tokyo and an old friend. One who’d helped me get revenge on the man who took my parents off this Earth.
I nodded, appreciating the help as always, and headed off toward the bathroom to cool down. Once inside, I threw water on my face to cool down.
“Fuck you! You’re not my father!”
“No. I am your older brother. And you will respect me,” I spoke low, barely managing to control my anger, the only thought calming me knowing that I was talking to him.
“Really? I couldn’t tell. Haven’t seen you in three years! Now you want to be in my life?”
“I’ve been busy with–”
“Yeah, I know. You’re always busy. That’s fine but don’t come back here and pretend you give a shit about me!”
I stared at fifteen-year-old Zach. For the first time, completely speechless. Surely, he had to know I cared about him – more than anyone. “C’mon. I just wanted to see my little brother, Rafe.”
“Don’t call me that!” His fist hit the wall, leaving behind a huge dent. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” He walked away, running a hand through his hair and refusing to meet my eyes.
Rafael, his middle name, was what mom used to call him.
“Look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I won’t tell you what to do. Let’s just start over, alright?”
“I have somewhere to be.”
I took a careful step forward, not wanting to scare him off now that he was calming down. “Basketball game, right?” He looked up, finally meeting me in the eye properly. “I’ll come too. Watch you play. That’s our thing.”
“Whatever. I don’t care.”
I knew he cared.
“Let’s go. I want to get a good seat.” I threw my arm around his shoulder, and for the first time he didn’t push me off. “How many three-pointers do you think you’ll shoot tonight?”
I stared into my eyes in the mirror.
No matter how much I tried, I could never get it right with Zach. I always said the wrong thing. Made the wrong decision. To say we’d grown apart, was a nice way to put it.
With my hands resting on the counter, I let my head hang low as I breathed deep to calm myself down.
The sound of the door opening made me aware.
But the heels hitting the marble floor – along with their depth and pattern I’d grown to know too well – made my shoulders relax.
She stopped the moment she saw me. “Oh, I didn’t realize–”
I pushed off, standing back to my full height of six-foot-five. My eyes found Francesca’s in the mirror.
Fuck, she was pretty.
Her features were striking. Bold, yet went so good together, it made me remember all the unholy thoughts I’d had of her these past few weeks. I had to look away before turning to face her just to get my shit together.
“I was just leaving,” I spoke, my mind distant as I headed out.
To my surprise, Francesca stepped in front of me. “What happened to the life of the party?”
I only glanced at her for a split of a second, frowning at her teasing smirk, not sure if she was being genuine. “I’m not in the mood.”
I tried to walk around but her hand clutched onto my bicep, stopping me.
“He just needs time.” Her voice came soft and genuine. She’d never spoken to me like that before. Never smiled at me before either, but she did a moment ago.
I turned my head, looking down at the woman who’d almost cut off my fingers last month, willingly touching me. Her black, doe eyes stayed on me, warm like that, for the first time.
I smirked. “Thank you for the kind words, princesa.”
Her hand dropped and she took a step back, scoffing at me. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I’ll cherish this memory,” I teased her, bringing my palm to my heart.
“You just looked so depressed, I had to say something.” She crossed her arms, leaning her weight on one hip. “You were ruining my mood.”
“Ah, my mistake.” I smiled, my own mood much lighter than before.
Her eyes came up to mine. In the dim, gold lighting of the bathroom, she looked almost ethereal. With her blonde hair, white dress against that smooth, glowing, olive skin, and that unguarded look in her eyes.
I looked away, clearing my throat. She took another step back, dropping her hands to her side.
“If you’re done filling the bathroom with your tears, please get out.” She tilted her head, a sweet-poison smile on her lips.
“Alright, alright,” I chuckled, heading out.
Who knew the little Donna was the comforting type?
I stopped before closing the door behind me, giving her one last look over my shoulder. She was already watching me, her eyes anything but indifferent. “Don’t worry, princesa. I won’t tell anyone your secret.”
“And what’s that?”
I smirked, my eyes dropping to her red toes peeking out of her thousand-dollar heels, then back up her toned legs and the white dress that hugged her in all the right places, before I felt it heat on her face.
She bit her cheek, in annoyance or maybe something else, I didn’t know. But what I did know, was that bad, scary Francesca DeMone blushed for me.