Page 195 of Rosetti Family New York
“Who’s this bitch?” one of them asks. He’s a slim guy, draped in black and gray, a perfect match for the building. Everything about him screams disinterested, from his flat voice to the laziest kind of sneer on his face.
“You should know. She’s looking for you.”
The guy gets up, and I know he must be Ethan. Maddy’s Ethan. He glides forward with an easy swagger, his dark eyes steady under a buzz cut, with tattoos snaking jagged lines up his arms. He studies me like he’s got all the time in the world. I can feel the heat of his stare boring into me, the room silent except for the low rumble of the music. Something is unsettling in the way he watches me, like a cat watching a mouse.
“Who are you?” he finally asks, his voice smooth and low.
“My na… I’m Sloane Carter,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m Maddy’s friend.” I swallow hard. “Her best friend.”
I stare him down, my heart pounding in my chest.
There’s a pause. Ethan tilts his head like a dog that doesn’t understand a command.
“Maddy who?” he asks, but I catch the twitch in his brow.
My anger rises like a hot tide, damn near volcanic. Madeleine was the best of people, the absolute best, and this jerk, this scumbag who doesn’t even deserve to wipe the mud off her boots, is pretending he doesn’t know who she is?
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my words slow and menacing. “She’s your girlfriend who died last month because of some shit you got her mixed up in. So don’t ask me Maddy goddamn who.”
His eyes narrow. “You got a lotta balls showing here without warning, bitch.”
“I wasn’t planning to wait for an invitation,” I retort.
My voice sounds braver than I feel. I try not to notice how the others, probably more Red Hooks members, get up from the couch and move closer.
“Now that you’re here,” he says slowly, “What do you want?”
“I need to know about Maddy.”
Ethan glances at his crew, a smirk playing on his lips like he’s got secret popcorn for the show.
“This isn’t a good time.”
“It’s the only time I have,” I reply.
The blonde cackles, and Ethan’s smirk slides away, replaced by ice.
“Carter,” he says again, dragging out my name with a slick, mocking smirk, making the syllables sound slimy and making me wish I’d never given him my real one. “You should go. Now.”
He jabs his thumb toward the door, a dismissive move that sets my teeth on edge. This bastard thinks he's in control, that he can just brush me off, pretend Maddy didn't matter. My frustration spikes, sharp and fiery.
“No,” I say, planting my feet like roots in the dirty carpet. “Not until you talk.”
The words come out louder than I intend, echoing across the mess of the room. My voice shakes, but underneath it, my resolve is rock solid. Ethan's eyes flash dark and dangerous, narrowing into a stormy line. He’s not used to people standing up to him. Tough. I’m not leaving until I get answers.
“I don’t think you know how this works,” he says, leaning back, all arrogance and slim muscles.
His voice is low and sinister, like a coiled snake ready to strike. The three guys around us shift, silent and menacing, like they’re waiting for a signal to push me out. I keep my focus on Ethan, refusing to budge an inch.
“Teach me, then,” I snap back, throwing his words back at him.
I need him to slip, to let something out. Maybe if he thinks he can scare me, he’ll get cocky, say more than he means to. The air between us feels electric, like one wrong word could set off a firestorm.
Ethan leans forward, closing the distance between us until his face is so close I can see the hard lines of his jaw. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, as sharp as cut glass. This close, he’s much more intimidating than I'd imagined, but I refuse to let him see me flinch.
“You really think you know what happened that night?” he asks, almost whispering.
His words are a taunt and a challenge.
