Page 19 of Souls and Sorrows

A girl.

“You all know the rules,” the announcer says, giving the woman a little shake.

Her eyes widen as hands fly into the air, frantically grasping their tickets, as if afraid they might lose them.

“We’ll start the bidding at five big ones.”

“Five thousand!” one person shouts, almost shooting out of their seat.

“Fifty-five hundred!”

“Six K!”

“Ten grand!”

Clenching my jaw, I slide my gaze to Jay, who watches the bidding with an amused look on his face. I’m not sure why I’m surprised that he’s turned out to be such a slimy bastard. Normally, I’m a much better judge of character, although when it comes to lawyers in general, ascertaining the despicable from the selfish becomes a bit harder.

I’ve always assumed Jay has certain affiliations with organized crime. We all do—wouldn’t be able to have careers without them. But I figured his ran more along the lines of illegal gambling rings and helping criminals get lesser sentences in exchange for kickbacks.

Notthis.

“Going once…” The announcer glides his hand from the woman’s neck and down over her bare shoulder, and then it disappears at her waist, around her back.

Tension floods her round face, and she suddenly seems much younger. Like a girl who agreed to something she didn’t fully comprehend.

“Soldfor ten g’s to Mr. Agosti.”

Stefano Agosti, an older gentleman with a sparse head of hair and a reputation for being a brute in bed, scrambles to his feet, handing his ticket to an usher just offstage. He leers up at the woman, who stares back at him with a fearful expression.

A slow-burning grin works across his lips, and my stomach rolls.

He likes that she’s afraid.

She’s shuffled away, probably to the back, where they can truss her up perfectly to finalize the sale. My eyes narrow at Jay, who rolls his eyes, taking a drink of his cocktail.

“Lighten up, Primrose. You just needed a ticket to stay for the auction. You don’t have to bid.” He props an elbow on the bar. “In fact, I don’t want you to bid. We’re here to observe.”

“Observewhat?”

“There’s a rumor going around that Ricci Inc. didn’t go under six years ago. At least, not the way everyone thinks it did. Supposedly, Vitus Tallerico and his father took over the reins when Rafael went to prison, and the Barbieris are very close cousins to the Tallericos.”

I stare at the dimple in his chin. “So?”

“Well, if it’s true and they’re aligning themselves rather than remaining rivals, the entire state’s ecosystem is at risk of a major imbalance.” Jay levels me with a look. “If that happens and a Barbieri gets his hands on the Ricci throne, we’re pretty much fucked. They’ll bring in their own government officials, their own legal teams, and the fabric of society as we know it will shift completely on its axis. Tonight, we’re just here to watch our possible downfall in real time.”

“Butwhy?” I cross my ankles, using my pinkie to push my glasses higher up on my nose. “I give zero fucks about any of this.”

“You give zero fucks about anything,” Jay corrects, and I hate the way he says it so smoothly, as if he knows me. As if I don’t put up a front every day, just to get through menial tasks. “With one exception—money. You know better than anyone how the almighty dollar runs everything. If the Barbieris gain control of Ricci Inc. or of the back channels, you won’t just walk away and find another firm to work for. They’ll blacklist you on account of who your father was, and you’ll be hard-pressed to find even pro bono cases.”

A pause.

He shifts, clearing his throat. “And they’re liable to come after you, Primrose. Your name still holds enough weight in the state that you pose a direct threat to their culmination of power.”

Annoyance boils just below the surface of my skin, and I stare at the flashing lights until my vision warps, dots splashing across my line of sight.

“How would the Barbieris even take over? If Ricci Inc. really is still around, it’s not going to be as powerful as it once was. Their don is inprison, his wife is MIA, and the daughters…”

Another round of applause fills the room, crackling like thunder as the lights shift again back to their previous red. Strobes flash as the announcer comes back to the stage, this time dragging someone by a prong collar and attached chain.

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