Page 8 of The Mafia's Bride
“And you’re looking for company?” His voice vibrates over my arms, gooseflesh pebbling and I fight off a shudder. That voice should be illegal.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” I give him my best doe eye impression in my arsenal.
He nods, almost knowingly. “Let’s see how you feel at the end of the night.”
Before I can push the conversation more, a hand clamps onto my shoulder dousing the growing flame of attraction.
“Ace wants to see you.”
Glancing back, I look up to into Haye’s deep blue eyes and frown. The dutiful soldier; he’s been my sister’s only friend for as long as I can remember. The errand boy, he’s never not done something Maeve has asked him to do.
Including wrangling her siblings when she’s too busy to do it herself.
“Of course. We mustn’t keep the Captain waiting,” I mumble sarcastically, sliding off my stool, heels slipping just as I step down. The man shifts, hand catching my elbow almost as a reflex, halting my fall.
At the contact, my body stiffens, the urge to melt at the touch and rip away warring within me. It’s a completely different type of buzz, so different from the one that’s quickly disappearing from my body, that I’m intrigued. And scared.
“Careful,” he murmurs, letting me shift away. “This place would love to see you fall.”
He doesn’t know the half of it. Most of the people are here to see what Maeve will do, but they’re also here to see what the resident screw-up will do now that Pops isn’t here to force me into submission. As much as these people want to lay eyes on Maeve’s first choices as Captain, they want me to make a mess for her to clean up even more.
Saluting slightly, I wink at the stranger, making a mental promise to come back and finish what I started here.
3
SLOANE
My father had various offices located all over the city. Some in warehouses far from the city center and in other smaller businesses, a few bars, one laundromat, and a tiny pub at the edge of Boston. None of them he visited because they were just for show.
This office is no exception with its barren, dusty desk, and cracked walls. A few pictures hang off nails, uneven and covered in cobwebs. There’s a green filing cabinet for show, because my father would never leave real documents where cops could access it, and a broken desk chair that looks as if it’s bent in half. My sister stands behind it, staring down at me.
I shift in the rickety chair, feeling the hinges groan under my weight. It’s rare for us to be alone, to be the only ones in the conversation without Collins to buffer us. Or Pops to dictate.
“What do you know of the decree?”
It’s blunt, direct. The air rushes from my parted lips as my body locks up.The decree.
The decree was a rite of passage within the Irish clan. A time-honored tradition, the Captain would level their decree on to all theclan members who are fully indoctrinated into the organization. Whatever the Captain needed, you would be given a job.
Maeve was given the decree years ago, to be the Captain when Pops died. When Collins was twenty, Pops instructed her to stay in school, finish her medical degree with the intent to be the clan doctor. Being twenty now, just three months short of my twenty-first birthday, it’s about time for me to receive mine.
The fear battles the anger in my gut at my sister’s nearness. The woman who was supposed to protect me, who left me to flounder with our father, and she’s looking down at me like an insect she has to squash.
“Captain’s orders given to those of age,” I shift uncomfortably in the bare chair, my dress riding high. “You can either accept it and do what’s expected or decline it.”
“What happens if you decline?”
I swallow nervously, my sister’s coldness seeping into my veins. “You’re kicked out of the clan.”
“Can’t have people in the clan who aren’t pulling their weight,” she agrees, almost tiredly. Those dark green eyes fasten on to me, so much darker than mine or Collins’.
As far as I’m aware, only the clans do this. Not the Italian families.
“Pops had a plan in place for you. Before he died.” Her wet hair slides along her shoulders, pattering of rain falling to the office. She doesn’t seem bothered by it. “It was written down.”
A chill races down my spine. “What did he want?”
The least she could do was tell me, though I’m sure it was something biting. Send me to a nunnery, forbade me from ever leaving the house. Things he always threatened to do.
