Page 9 of With This Kiss
And there was no one around here who exuded the air of a man set to inherit an entire criminal enterprise.
I hadn’t expected to be able to see Kingston Mahankov so easily. It wasn’t like he was just some random man off the street. Which made it even more surprising that Etta had been able to see him… or even date him in the first place.
I took in a deep breath and rubbed at my chest, trying to will away the crack in my heart that I could feel deepening each and every day. How long would it be until my heart breaks completely?
What would I do then?
What could I do?
What was I even doing here? In this world ruled by strong men with more power in their little pinkies than I would ever have in my entire lifetime, what could I possibly do?
This was stupid.
I should leave.
That would be the smart thing to do.
I turned toward the exit when a large male body moved into my path. I craned my neck back and looked up at him.
He smiled.
It wasn’t a pretty smile. Not at all. Not even a little bit. A slight shiver worked its way up my spine, and without saying a word, I pivoted back around and headed for the bar, ignoring him yelling for me to stop.
I narrowly missed the hand he reached out to me, and I grabbed the only seat available, luckily at the far end of the bar top. I peeked back. The man was already disappearing from my sight as more people crowded in the way.
“What are you having?” the bartender—a man who looked to be about my age, if not a couple of years older—asked.
I froze. “Um… a Long Island iced tea.”
He nodded and walked away from me. I looked around the club. It wasn’t like the kind of clubs that Etta and Preston sometimes managed to drag me out to. It was much quieter, and most of the people here didn’t lookoract too wild.
It mostly catered to rich and powerful men and women looking for other rich and powerful people.
And I happened to look like one of those women, here for that very purpose.
A small blush made its way to my cheeks, and I glanced down.
What was Etta doing here in the first place?
I closed my eyes at the pain pressing down on me in remembrance of my childhood friend. It had been three months since she left me.
Three months of feeling this hole in my chest that I didn’t know how to fill. I took in a deep breath. I was not going to break down in public, especially not at this club.
The Caparelli Famiglia and the Bratva were still the same—still wary of one another, but for the most part, they held up their end of this weak truce they had entered.
Mostly because they didn’t know about Etta’s history with Kingston Mahankov.
While the Caparelli Famiglia wasn’t known for looking out for its women, they took offense to other menencroachingon what they believed belonged to them. And Etta belonged to them, even if we had no skin in the game. Which was why it was so enraging that Dad wouldn’t do anything about this, or let it be known that Kingston was the reason why Etta?—
I cut off that line of thought before it could break me down in public… again.
The Caparelli Famiglia was always looking for an excuse to start a full-blown war with the Bratva.
This could be the reason. And for the first time, I wanted that war. I didn’t fucking care about peace anymore. I wanted blood. I wanted revenge. I wanted Kingston Mahankov’s head.
The only reason there was even peace now was that the last time we went to war with them, both sides lost a lot of men and merchandise, and they weren’t willing to risk it again. And there were too many smaller, less powerful gangs nearby, just waiting for the two organizations to destroy each other so that they could swoop in.
The Bratva and the famiglia weren’t careless.
