POV: Tempest
Frederick built his kingdom out of favors, leverage, greased palms, and probably some blackmail here and there. He's friends with politicians, union leaders, and yes, the mafia as well. And it's that last one he's about to cement his relationship to, when he marries young Aria off.
To the devil himself.
Matteo Belluci also isn't technically a "made" man in the mafia. But he might as well be, even more so than Frederick. Raised by the very powerful Barone mafia family, Matteo—like Frederick—built himself a nice little empire in the gray area between the dark and the light.Except while my grandfather deals in favors, Matteo deals in hedonism.
Pleasure. Darkness. Depravity.
Matteo owns and runs Club Venom—an exclusive, secret, members-only kink club that caters to the city's most powerful, twisted, and dangerous. Honestly, it's a place someone like me shouldn't even know about.
Except I do.
But that's beside the point. Owning a sex club for mafiosos to get freaky at is not the reason my brothers and I hate Matteo Belluci.It's because of what he did to our sister fifteen years ago.
"Does she know yet?"
Frederick raises a hard glance my way. "Beg pardon?"
"Aria," I hiss. "Does she know you're selling her to a man twice her age for—" My brow furrows. "Sorry, what exactly are you getting out of this, anyway?"
Our grandfather lifts his glass and takes another drink. "Stability, Tempest. We all get—"
"Why don't you just fuck off already with the savior complex bullshit, Frederick," Aiden growls. "Do not include us in this as if you give a fuck about anyone in this room but yourself. You're selling your own flesh and fucking blood to the very monster who had a hand in Kara's death—"
"Oh, step outside your little glass tower and open your goddamn eyes!" Frederick roars, lurching to his feet with surprising agility for a man his age. He levels a withering gaze at my brother, then James, then me.
"The Greeks are in bed with the Irish, who are now also in bed with the Bratva. Meanwhile, the Italians are at each other's throats like—"
"Exactly when," James mutters coldly, "is it going to click with you, Frederick, that none of us is in the business of criminality! Aiden and I run the most prestigious law firm in the goddamn city, and Tempest—"
"And exactly who pulled the strings to get you that law firm, hmm?" our grandfather fires back. "And besides, don't try to look me in the eye and tell me your hands are clean, either of you. I know damn well who you happily represent, legally."
He's not exactly wrong. While my brothers might not be involved in any criminal enterprises themselves, their client roster has definitely started to, shall we say, trend a certain way in the last few years: the Drakos Greek mafia family. The Kildare Irish mafia. Elements of the Russian Bratva, too.
But still, we ourselves are not criminals. Or even criminally adjacent, like our grandfather. That was always the major rift in our family: that our dad went into law, instead of following Frederick into lawlessness.
"This is fucking medieval, Frederick," James says coldly. "She's your daughter, for God's sake. And Matteo is…" His face clouds with rage and he trails off. He doesn't need to finish the thought. We all know what Matteo Belluci is.
A monster.
A purveyor of sex and hedonism.
One of the last people to have seen our sister alive, when he married, out of the blue, on her death bed.
He's the devil that lurks over your shoulder, whispering poison into your ear as he slowly corrupts your soul. Like he did to Kara.
"I know precisely what Matteo is," Frederick tosses back. "He's connected, but not too connected. He's powerful, yet in need of allies, and—"
"For fuck's sake, Frederick!" Aiden roars, cutting our grandfather off. "How in the hell are you overlooking his obvious involvement in Kara's—"
"Well, I don't see him in jail for it,counselor!" Frederick volleys back, jabbing a finger at my brother. "So unless there's a smoking gun you've had up your ass for the last fifteen—"
"Does she know!?"
My shrill scream silences the room for a second. My pulse thuds in my ears, and for a second, as the too-familiar wave of dizziness washes over me, I'm terrified I'm going to faint again. I'm terrified that I'm going to give myself away, and if I do that right here in front of all of them, there'll be no avoiding the question of why.
And right now, I don't have time for the why.
I don't have much time for anything at all, actually.
"Aria is well aware of what her duty to this family entails—Tempest!"
I ignore Frederick' blustering as I storm across the room toward the closed double doors out to the main foyer of the house. One, because I need to talk to Aria, now, and reassure her I'm going to get her out of this,even if I have no idea how.
And two, because there's a solid chance I'm going to faint unless I get the hell out of this room.
"Tempest, this is happening!" Frederick roars at my back as I reach for the doorknobs. "And Aria is—"
" Go to hell, Frederick," I spit over my shoulder as my fingers curl around the brass knobs. "You and that sick psychopath Matteo!"
I fling open the doors and surge through them…
Until I slam directly into something hard, chiseled, and wrapped in three- piece linen and silk. My world goes upside down as I gasp sharply and tumble backward off my heels. Instantly, two strong, powerful, veined hands grab my wrists in their iron grip, yanking me back upright until I crash back into that firm, broad chest again.
My eyes drag up over the crisp, white dress shirt, the faint shine of a black silk tie, the bronzed, Mediterranean skin of a muscular neck and chiseled, perfect cheekbones. The slight cleft in the chin. The insidiously beautiful and kissable lips…
Yet it's the eyes that capture my soul and bind it fast: sharp, icy-blue, and piercingly lethal beneath a shock of perfectly coifed dark hair. "Speak of the devil…" Matteo growls quietly.
My heart lurches into my throat. I flinch as if to move away from him. But Matteo's strong grip only tightens on my thin wrists, sending my pulse skyrocketing and my head swimming. His strong fingers clench even tighter, and those eyes of his don't even blink as they zero in on mine.
"…And he shall appear," he murmurs.
His lips curl dangerously into a darkly unsettling quasi-smile, his eyes glinting as they eviscerate me. 'Now I do hope I haven't missed the surprise?'.