Page 9 of Wicked Sinner
“Him?” I can’t stop the incredulity in my voice. “What the fuck has he done to earn my father’s empire? Who the fuck is he?”
“He’s the man I entrusted with Don Russo’s empire after Giovanni Russo betrayed me and his legacy,” Konstantin says coldly. “The man who married Simone Russo and ensured that the empire that Russo built would live on. Someone who could be trusted to maintain the balance of peace that has kept the Miami underworld moving smoothly, without war, for decades now. Giovanni Russo prioritized quick money and outsideconnections over alliances that are built on loyalty and trust.” His ice blue gaze holds mine, flinty and unrelenting. “I have no idea if I can trust you, Caesar Genovese. You’ve been gone a long time. Things have changed. Others have not. And you chose a different life.”
The words hit me like a slap. I feel my jaw tighten, my hands curling into fists on the arms of the chair. "I was seventeen years old when I left. I was a pissed off, idiot fucking kid who made a mistake.”
"A mistake that lasted twenty years," Tristan interjects. His voice is calm, even, but there’s a cutting edge to it that I can’t fail to miss. "You didn't just leave, Caesar. You abandoned everything. Your family, your responsibilities, your birthright. You walked away from all of it, to go do god knows what god knows where for the last twenty years, and now you want to waltz back in here and claim what you gave up?" He shrugs casually, as if he’s not talking about a legacy that my father built that he wants to claim. To swallow whole and make his like a hungry fucking snake, as if he has any right to anything in this city.
I twist around to face him fully, anger flaring in my chest. "I didn't give up anything. I was young and stupid, and I made a choice I regretted later. When I tried to come back, my father refused to see me. He's the one who turned me away."
"Because you'd already proven you couldn't be trusted," Tristan replies coolly, his green eyes hard as chips of emerald. "You ran when the responsibility and pressure got to be too much. What's to say you won't do it again?"
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to punch him in his smug fucking face where he sits. In the life I’ve been living for the last twenty years, that would be the appropriate response, but it isn’t here. I’m reminded of that by the weight of Konstantin’s gaze on me, watching to see what I’ll do. This is a test, I know. Even ifhe’s telling the truth and would give Tristan my father’s legacy if I hadn’t come home, I can’t help but think that he’s put me in this room with Tristan and that information to see how I’ll handle it.
If I lash out like a young man, or handle it with wisdom.
Unfortunately, I feel more angry than wise in this particular moment.
“I’m not seventeen anymore." My voice is low, dangerous. "I've learned from my mistakes. I realized too late that it was wrong to turn my back on my family, to leave my father without an heir, because the responsibility felt so heavy. I won't make that mistake again. I’ve come back to make itright."
Konstantin leans back in his chair, studying me with those cold blue eyes. "Perhaps. But trust isn't something that can be rebuilt overnight, Caesar. It takes time. It takes proof."
"What kind of proof?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
"The kind that shows you're committed to this life. To this family— the greater Family of all those assembled here in Miami. To the stability of Miami's underworld." Konstantin's fingers drum against the mahogany desk. "Your father's death has created a power vacuum. Tristan has been managing some of the Genovese interests since he took over the Russo empire, keeping things stable, but that's a temporary solution. There are other, smaller families watching, waiting to see what happens next. They fall in line behind Tristan and me, but that could change if things are mismanaged."
The thought of Tristan—this newcomer with no ties to Miami who somehow curried Konstantin’s favor and has usurped the second-highest power in the city—handlinganythingto do with my father’s legacy makes me see red. But I force the anger down, letting it burn hotly in my chest as I respond as calmly as I can manage.
"So give me what's mine," I reply curtly. "Let me prove myself."
"It's not that simple." Konstantin stands, moving to the window that overlooks the bay. "The other bosses need to see that you're serious.Ineed to see that you’re serious. As does Tristan. That you're not going to disappear again the moment things get complicated.”
A feeling of dread roots itself in my stomach. "And how do I prove that?"
Konstantin turns back to me, his expression calculated, and I can see that the conversation has been leading to this since it began. He’s already planned all this out. "Marriage."
The word falls like a gavel between us. I stare at him, that feeling of dread spreading. "What?"
“Your father is gone. You have no family here any longer. No ties to keep you grounded. What’s to stop you from liquidating all that your father left behind, taking your business connections elsewhere, and leaving Miami? No.” Konstantin shakes his head. "You need a wife, Caesar. Someone who can help secure your claim. Someone the other bosses will see as a solid choice for a mafia bride."
Konstantin returns to his seat, his movements deliberate and controlled as he continues. "A woman with the right connections, the right background. Someone who understands this life and can help you navigate it."
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The curse flies out before I can stop it, and I see Konstantin’s expression harden. “Understands this life? Help me navigate it?I wasbornin this fucking life, Abramov?—”
“Watch your mouth,” Tristan snaps, and I whip my head around, glaring at him.
“Are you going to get under that desk and suck his fucking cock, too? Is that the deal you made when you got an entirefamily’s worth of money and power, and connections, even though I’ve never seen or heard of you before?”
“Caesar,” Konstantin says my name with a finality that brings me up short, though I wish I could continue tearing both Tristan and him down. But it won’t get me what I want. “We’re talking about your future.”
"You're talking about an arranged marriage." The words taste bitter in my mouth.
“Correct.” Konstantin doesn’t flinch. “The right bride will add to your legitimacy. It will prove that you’re committed to putting down roots, to continuing your father’s legacy, to building on what he began. It will solidify your position, add to your power, and convince both me, Tristan, and the other bosses that you are, in fact, focused on stability in this new era.”
I feel my head spin, dizzy for a moment, as if I have a hangover. The office suddenly feels far too small. This isn't what I wanted. I came back to claim my birthright, not to be married off like some medieval prince. "And if I refuse?"
"Then Tristan takes over the Genovese interests permanently," Konstantin says simply. "And you walk away with the money and assets your father willed directly to you and nothing else."
I look at Tristan, who is doing a fine job of keeping his expression unreadable, but I can see the smug glint in his green eyes. I’d like to dig in with both thumbs and turn them to jelly, but I sit stock-still, evaluating my choices.
