Page 16 of Souls and Sorrows

Mamma destroyed everyone she came into contact with, including him, and I’ve always held on to the shred of hope that Papà and I silently bonded over that. The stolen pats on the shoulder in passing and new leotards every time Mamma had “lost” one made me think he cared more than he could let on.

Even if he couldn’t do anything to stop her, at least there was a little solace, knowing I wasn’t the only one she tormented.

Wasn’t the only one she fucked up.

Tapping his fingers on the edge of the table, Papà lets out a long sigh. “Ariana, it’s just how men are—”

Everything inside of me deflates, like the air being released from a tire. It leaks out the sides, my hope spilling with it.

An incredulous laugh tumbles out of my mouth, and I shove back my chair to get to my feet. “Oh Jesus, not theboys will be boysspeech. I’ve heard that one plenty, thanks.”

The metal door swings open, and a redheaded guard enters, hanging off to the side. Papà clears his throat, lifting his hands, as if to show he’s still cuffed and nottechnicallydangerous. Even though we both know violence isn’t the only way to hurt others.

“Cucciolotta.”

I pause, recognizing one of the few Italian words I picked up from my parents, since they didn’t teach us any outright.

“Your… indiscretion doesn’t absolve you from your commitment. Vitus will still expect you to marry him, and if you don’t, he’ll look for you. That man has no intention of giving you or his proximity to the Ricci fortune up.”

My mouth parts to tell him where to shove his fortune—especially since the money is all tied up in legal crosshairs now anyway—but he gives me a tired almost half-smile.

“If I’d been given an out when I was paired with your mother, things might have been different. They certainly would’ve been for you.” He folds his hands together on top of the table. “You want out? You’ll need to find an excuse. A reason for visiting his parents, and a reason why you couldn’t possibly have… taken care of them, like he thinks. Otherwise, Tallerico will still claim you, but he’ll end up killing you.” One long finger points in my direction. “I willnothave that happen.”

I snort. As if that hasn’t been Vitus’s plan all along. Marry me, gain access to the business, and murder me before I can complain. “Aw, it’s almost like you care about me.”

“Vitus marrying into this family and becoming the face of Ricci Inc. doesn’t mean he’ll be itsbrains. That stays in the bloodline.” He licks his lips, glancing at the guard, who narrows her eyes at him. “The Barbieris are hosting a party tonight at some club outside of town. Get your ass there, and I’ll have one of my contacts fix you up with an airtight alibi.”

“I don’t need one—”

“Okay,” the guard snaps, rounding the table to roughly grasp my father’s bicep, “that’s enough. Do we need to add conspiratorial solicitation to your list of charges, Ricci?”

“I was only offering my daughter some advice—”

She ignores him, unlocking the silver cuffs around his ankles from where they’re linked to the floor, then hauls him to his feet. He stumbles as she shoves him out, and she kicks the back of his calf to get him to move again.

Another officer comes into the room to escort me from the facility, and I go slowly, trying to process the visual of my father being manhandled. He was once the most powerful and feared criminal in the city, but now, it honestly feels as though he’s just… given up.

Whether that’s because of his conviction or the fact that he hasn’t been in charge in years, I don’t know.

And I don’t really care.

Coming here didn’t solve my problems, so I’m not going to make more for myself by giving a shit about his feelings.

He never has cared much about mine.

Bright sunlight impedes my vision as I step out of the correctional facility, and I slide my Gucci sunglasses down over my nose to block it out. The building itself is just outside of Boston in some little no-name town, and I take a deep breath, inhaling the semi-fresh air that seems less polluted outside city limits.

The bottoms of my red Prada heels grind against the sidewalk pavement as I slow to an immediate stop, nearly running into the human storm cloud waiting at the top of the stairs, just outside the security gate.

A silent growl escapes me as I shuffle back a step.

My sister’s husband stares down at me, though he hardly towers over me the way he does Elena, especially since I’m in heels. If he notices the light bruising across my jaw and cheekbones and the scab at the top of my lip from my run-in with Vitus, he doesn’t mention them.

Still, his presence feels no less formidable. A single tendril of inky-black hair swoops down over his forehead, just long enough to brush against his harsh brows. His strong jaw shifts as he takes me in, running his nearly-black eyes over my form with a slow, clinical assessment.

Cold seeps into my pores as he studies me, and I almost avert my gaze out of sheer discomfort. There’s no doubt in my mind why my father used to employ this man to torture adversaries and rats. I think most people would shit their pants after a single terse glance from him.

I don’t get the appeal of Kal Anderson, to be honest. He’s attractive, sure, but I’ve never really wanted to be afraid of my lovers. Evidently, my sister sees no issue with his severity.

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