Page 153 of Inside the Sun

I stop him and ask, "Can you bring two bottles of champagne to my room?"

He raises an eyebrow but nods. No one asks for ID in a fucking mafia fortress.

A few minutes later, the bottles show up. I don’t usually drink. But tonight, I want to. I don’t bother with a glass. I drink straight from the bottle. It’s sweet and bubbly, not disgusting like whiskey or vodka. It’s something I can actually enjoy.

I sip on it for a good half hour, and slowly, I start to feel it. Everything gets a little fuzzier, a little funnier. I guess that’s just how alcohol hits me.

Then there’s a soft knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I bark.

"It’s me, Summer."

"Go away!"

"Sun, please…"

But before I can say anything, another voice cuts in.

"Well, well… who wandered off all alone?"

I freeze. I know that voice.

Fuck, not him! The fucking bastard, Rocco.

My head is still spinning like crazy, but I force myself to stand.

Out in the hallway, I hear him saying,

"Look at you, finally crawled out of your little hole. Not scared to visit these halls, doll? You heard what happened to Sun before, right? Someone tried to make him suck a dick. Nasty, huh?"

The thought occurs to me. Is Rocco drunk too? The servant just passed by with a tray of empty glasses.

Maybe there’s a little party going on somewhere in the house while Anzo’s away?

I have to step in.

Whenever I have doubt about what I should do, whether to intervene, I ask myself: what would my dad do? He’s like my moral compass, my heart and conscience, living inside me, at least from the moment I decided to… let his voice come through. It’s only just begun here, in The Sun.

And it’s loud now.

I know this situation could turn dangerous fast.

I open the door with a slam and step into the hallway, just in time to see Summer pressed against the wall, hunchedover, while Rocco looms above him, eyes bloodshot. Yeah, he’s definitely drunk, and pretty heavily.

He sneers when he sees me.

"Don’t stick your nose in other people’s business, blondie. Unless you’re looking for a repeat performance in the cage?"

"Summer, go back to your room," I say, my voice commanding.

But Rocco slams his hand against the wall, blocking Summer’s path.

"And why the hell should he leave? Sweet little flower… Gonna have his tight virgin ass. ’Cause Anzo’s dildos don’t count, right? So go away, I’m about to claim what’s mine anyway…" he slurs, then grabs a fistful of Summer’s hair and tries to shove him down onto the floor.

That’s whenIshove Rocco. Hard.

He curses and swings at me, but he’s too drunk to land the hit. I grab him by the back of the neck and yank him toward me. His body twists, and Summer slips free.

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