Page 58 of Wretched Choices

“They work for me, and they are a part of the family. They are not my friends.”

Her nose scrunches and her eyes narrow. I can see the wheels spinning in her head, but I will not tell her what she wants to hear.

“You’re lying. There are things they do for you that only friends do for each other. Why are you lying?”

Instead of answering her, I just stare at her, even if she has a point.

“You can tell me. I will never use it against you.”

I chuckle. “That is doubtable.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” She crosses her fingers together. I shake my head and stand.

Giving her my hand, I stand up. “If you want the story, I need a drink.”

Taking my hand, she says, “Fine. There’s a bar down the street.”

I didn’t realize I was still holding her hand until we reached the bar and I let her go to open the door.

We take a table that’s out of the way. I tell myself it’s because I need to be cautious, not to keep the looks of the men inside away from her.

“I’ll take whiskey, neat.” I give my order to the waitress.

“Margarita.” We stay silent, only exchanging glances while I struggle with where to start with the story and what I want to tell her. Isabella seems more relaxed than me.

“Are we going to keep staring at each other, or are you going to speak?” It’s Isabella who breaks the silence between us.”

I shake my head. “You are infuriating.”

“Nobody has ever told me that.” A devious smile frames her face. “You brought me here for a reason.”

“To answer your question first. The three of them are my family, not friends.” I stop talking as the waitress places drinkson our table. “They are my loyal companions, and as they would do anything for me, I would do the same for them.”

“How long have you known each other?”

I take a sip of my drink, letting it burn down my throat. “Gabriel, since we were kids playing in the mud. Dante saved us from getting killed one night in a dark alley when we were teens. He was living on the streets. He never talked about what happened to him, but I welcomed him, and the rest is history.” She nods her head slightly. I expect questions, but nothing comes, so I continue. “I spent my childhood in Gabriel’s home until there was no playing anymore, and we were officially inducted and became made men.”

“How old were you?”

“I was twelve. My father thought the earlier I started, the better I would get. Gabriel had the privilege of waiting until his sixteenth birthday.”

“What about Marco?”

I chuckle at the memory. “He was a nosy bastard who basically forced his friendship on us in college. He used his skills to impress us, and no matter how I tried to keep him away from this life, he wanted in.”

“Aren’t those good memories? Why drink?”

“The drink is to match the sour taste of the life I lived.”

Her brows scrunch together. “I don’t understand.”

I run a hand over my face. “There are things I don’t like to talk about. Things about my life that I hate.”

Her face softens, but her eyes are asking questions her mouth isn’t. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Maybe.” Before I can spill all my secrets to her, my phone beeps with a message from Dante.

Got him.

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