Page 62 of Souls and Sorrows

He continues staring, eyes blank. “Why?”

“Because he wants it.”

“Since when do you just give people what they want? I can’t even get you to call your goddamn sister and let her know you’re alive every few days, but a stranger tells you he wants access to your family’s criminal empire, and you’re just willing to hand it over?”

I lift one shoulder, shrugging as I take another drink. My hand shifts, pushing my ring finger to the front of the mug, and Kal glances at it for a millisecond.

Pausing, he looks down at the table, then back up at my finger.

His nostrils flare, and his broad shoulders stiffen. “You didn’t.”

“Marry Vitus?” I grin. “No, I most certainly did not.”

Sighing deeply, Kal leans back in his booth seat, scrubbing his hands over his face. The black band of his own wedding ring is a stark contrast against his tanned skin, and I find it amusing that he’s so distraught over my situation when his and Elena’s didn’t start so differently.

He stole my sister away from her fiancé, married her, and took her from her family, and she used her freedom to turn Papà into the Feds. So, really, the shift of everything in our lives over the last six years can be traced back to the Andersons, and it’s a bit irritating that my actions are being perceived as wild and erratic rather than as a natural chain of events.

What the fuck did everyone think was going to happen? That I’d be okay with continuing business as usual, being my parents’ little gopher and keeping a tenuous grasp on the tattered remains of the Ricci empire?

Elena was supposed to be the one who took over if Papà ever became indisposed. Not me.

All I ever,everwanted was to do ballet, but no one ever gave a shit about that.

Why would I want to keep something that only ever ruined me?

“And what does your father have to say about this?”

I shrug. “Don’t know. Haven’t told him.”

“Well, surely, you don’t think he’ll let it go without a fight? He might be incarcerated, but that doesn’t mean anything for men like him. If he wants to keep ownership, he’ll make it happen.”

My heart squeezes in my chest, and I place my mug on the table, wrapping my palms around the warm ceramic. “He doesn’t get a choice. It’s already done. You and I both know Papà might have some semblance of power still, but he isn’t running the show. The Tallericos and the Barbieris aren’t even as in charge as they believe.”

Kal’s jaw clenches, a dimple forming in his right cheek. “Who is?”

Pain lances my chest, like a spear piercing right through the cavity. I glance down at my mug, toying with my ring, focusing on the shanks as they catch on my knuckle, threatening to break the skin.

When I look up again, he meets my stare head-on, resignation lining his dark eyes.

He knows without me even saying it.

“Ah.” He tugs at the collar of his shirt. “So, sheisaround.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ve been trying that hard to find her.”

“No, because I chose to move on with my life. I want to enjoy the sliver of happiness the universe has finally afforded me and spend time with my wife and daughters while I’m able to. Your mother is of no consequence to me, Ariana.”

“She called you a homewrecker because she wanted to ruin your marriage,” I point out, recalling how Mamma tried to come between him and Elena, spewing her jealous vitriol every chance she got and revealing to my sister the nature of their past relationship.

But she left out the important details, like the fact that Kal was a child when the majority of it occurred.

That he, like me, was a victim.

“And she failed to do so,” he replies. “I’ve made my peace with what happened. What I don’t understand is why you seem to have more of an issue with her than me.”

Sitting here, looking at him all calm and collected, I’m inclined to believe he has moved on. He seems completely unbothered by the fact that the woman who abused him is still breathing on this planet despite the fact that she deserves to be rotting six feet under.

Jealousy skates along the lining of my stomach, poisoning my insides as it passes through. For a second, it’s jealousy over the fact that he’s okay, because I’m clearly not, and I have no idea how to get to that point.

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