Page 60 of Bitter Prince
“Evans.”
“Our favorite subject,” Phoenix signed, continuing the interrogation.
There were a few snickers passing around but we kept our focus on him. “That’s easy. None.”
“Damn, he’s good,” Raven muttered.
“Our favorite color,” I asked.
This time, Papà rolled his eyes. “Reina’s is pink. Phoenix’s is blue.”
I grumbled under my breath, causing a round of laughter. “You’re always in pink, woman,” Athena scoffed. “Try changing it up a bit.”
I shrugged. “Phoenix isn’t always in blue.”
“But she always has blue accessories.”
“True,” I admitted begrudgingly.
“Favorite book?”
“Anything with fashion for you, Reina,” Papà answered. “Anything to do with music for Phoenix.”
The table went quiet while Phoenix and I stared at our father, deep in thought. He might have been absent these past twelve years, but maybe—just maybe—he’d kept us in his heart all along.
27
REINA
Ilooked up from the floor where I was stretching my legs to find my sister’s gaze on me. I was warming up before starting my yoga practice. The familiar tightness in my chest and the dread creeping up my spine was usually the first sign of an impending panic attack.
So, naturally, I tried to get ahead of it. I had no time to waste on panic attacks, hence why I was working to get that shit under control.
“The girls are by the pool. I thought I could keep you company. You okay?” she asked.
Her cheeks were flushed as she sat down and stretched her own legs. I let my eyes travel over her attire—yoga pants and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her dark brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. Just like me, she had curls. Growing up, people always confused us for twins with different hair colors. Being twenty months apart and having the same light skin, facial structure, and blue eyes would do that, I imagined. Although, she had darker blue eyes. We were similar in a lot of ways, from our build and height to our similar personalities. People thought I was more outgoing than her, but it was actually the other way around. She was the only reason I had a social life and friends. People just assumed the alternative because of her deafness.
I raised my eyebrow. “Why?”
“You’re doing yoga and stretching. You only do that when you’re fighting anxiety.”
She knew me too well.
“Just thinking, that’s all.”
“What about?”
I shrugged. “Papà. Mamma.”
She watched me inquisitively. “Are you sure it’s not about Amon Leone?”
I shook my head. “Yes, I’m sure.” Although, I had been wondering what Dante and Amon Leone had to talk about with Papà. I knew they weren’t planning to share the event that happened a week ago—or was it two now?—in their club. They would have already if that were the case.
“Don’t let memories consume you,” Phoenix warned. “Leave them in the past.”
It wasn’t hard for our family to connect my anxiety and panic to Mamma’s death. They simply attributed it to the loss of our mother at such a young age. But the truth was that those last words Mamma spoke as she lay in the tub full of blood haunted me. They left an invisible scar that refused to heal.
“Does it ever bother you that Papà is involved with organized crime?” I asked her.
