Page 32 of Betrayed By Sin
Axle reappears and flops at my feet with a dramatic sigh. “We will be going to see the Caputo family when your brother returns.”
I’m still not used to the way this world moves, how effortlessly powerful people can smile while fencing with words sharp enough to slice the air.
We pull into the Caputo’s gated drive, our car creeping over pale gravel as the mansion unfolds like something out of a movie where people drink wine they can’t pronounce and say things like“Ah, yes, the '83 vintage was bold, but the '78 had more integrity.”
“Smile,” my mother says, peeking at me through the car mirror. She’s been fixing her lipstick for the past ten minutes like we’re about to walk into an audition for sainthood. “You look like someone just asked you to file taxes for fun.”
I playfully roll my eyes, “Every time I have met Zeik with Sin,” they both flinch at his name, and I don’t miss it. That’s the thing that’s weird about Zeik Caputo’s relationship with every rival family, he is safe with all of them. Free to roam around the different factions. I could be that for our family, but what kind of danger does that role bring with it? “He was rude to me the first time.”
“That’s because you weren’t in the circle.” Cameron tells me with air quotes. “Did he treat you nice after getting to know you?”
I say his name again, not caring. “After Sin threatened him.”
Cameron smirks approvingly but quickly mask it with a smug. “I have known Zeik since I was five. He is annoying,”
Mom cuts in, “You two stop it, they are our biggest ally.”
Cameron chucks my arm, “They’re everyone’s ally, and that’s why visits like this are important.”
“I just don’t get why this couldn’t be a phone call” I mutter, tugging at the hem of my form fitted dress. “You said it’s just to say thank you, but this feels more like a strategy meeting than a social call.”
Cameron chuckles from the other side of me. “Maybe we’re sayingthank youvery seriously.”
My eyes narrow. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
He grins. “Because I just got back from a glorious vacation in Italy, alone. No one to bother me.” He stretches his arms out, tugging a piece of my hair. It makes me reminiscence on a childhood I didn’t get with him. We would have annoyed our mother to death, I’m sure.
Before I can stab him in the thigh with my heel, the car rolls to a smooth stop. A butler opens our door with a smile.
“Be nice,” my mother says, exiting first. “And say nothing weird.” She looks pointedly at Cameron.
“You’re literally asking the impossible,” He says.
We’re escorted through high-ceilinged halls, past oil paintings of the striking blonde Caputo legacies. The smell here is citrusy and ancient, like polished wood and lemon zest.
This is the kind of place where youfeelthe money. It’s not loud or flashy, but quiet and refined. Intimidating in a “don’t touch anything unless you’re ready to replace it with your soul” kind of way.
The sitting room is awash in golden light. A fire burns low in a marble hearth, the long table set with wine and enough charcuterie to feed an elite secret society.
And waiting for us? The Caputo’s.
Leon Caputo rises first, tall and dignified with a salt-and-pepper beard and a watch that probably has more diplomatic clearances than the United Nations.
“Maria,” he greets, extending both hands. “It’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is ours,” my mother replies, kissing each cheek like she’s known him since preschool. “We’re deeply grateful for your negotiations to keep Magnolia safe past any lines.”
Leon waves a hand. “Please, your family has been through enough. We had no complaints from any family for the new law.”
So, I’m a part of a law now?
Then, Amelia Caputo rises, her silk blouse barely rustling as she moves. She’s beautiful in that crisp, editorial way. Cheekbones that look sculpted, golden hair swept back like she’s about to give an icy monologue in a political thriller.
“Magnolia,” she says, her voice smooth like chamomile tea. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you again, properly this time. You were a tiny little newborn the last...” She looks at my mother with a sharp frown.
“Thank you for having us,” I say, voice smooth but not too soft. They may be smiling, but I have hardened my walls, not wanting anyone in.
And then there’s Zeik.
