“I don’t know about you, dear brother,” Marcus mutters, his tone filled with something sinister that has a shiver sailing right down my spine. “But my patience is wearing thin. We need to do this now before she ends up like Flick.”
My brows furrow. Who is the ‘she’ he’s referring to and who the hell is Flick? Is that the pregnant chick who was killed by their father? Am I the ‘she’ he doesn’t want that to happen to?
“Leave Felicity out of this,” Roman says darkly. “You’re getting too attached to this girl.”
“Right,” Marcus laughs. “I’m the one who has attachment issues. All I’m doing is enjoying what’s on offer. Do I need to remind you about the ring you had stashed away for Flick? The ring that our father found which prompted him to slaughter her before our fucking eyes? Yeah, don’t fucking preach to me about getting attached.”
What the ever-loving fuck? My mouth drops as I try to unload the bomb that Marcus just dropped. Ring? What ring? That couldn’t be right. In order to have a ring for someone, you have to first be in love, and Roman DeAngelis is simply not capable. But then … if it’s true, if that really did happen, how callous and cruel must one man be to take his eldest son’s pregnant girlfriend’s life in front of his eyes.
What the hell have I got myself involved in?
“Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand, Marc. Felicity meant something to you too. Pretending that she didn’t is a fucking insult. You and I were just as attached as he was,” Levi says. “But Roman is right. You are getting attached to Shayne, and it’s a dangerous little game you’re playing, one that won’t end well. You know what father says about attachments to women. It makes you weak, and the moment they start playing a role in the decisions you make, you’re as good as dead. You need to watch yourself around her.”
A low grumble sounds through the room. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Marcus says. “She means nothing to me. So can we please just focus on the real issue at hand? We need to overthrow father before it’s too fucking late.”
An irritated scoff sounds through the room and I’m pretty sure it comes from Roman before Levi’s curt tone steals my attention. “We can’t,” Levi snaps back. “It’s too soon. He’s got too many players on his side.”
“We have Ariana.”
“What good is she going to do?” Roman grunts, the words almost sounding somewhat pained as they’re forced from between his lips. “She’s a whore. She only comes to us because she doesn’t get good dick at home. Don’t be fooled by those blood-red lips. She’s not on our side.”
There’s a low murmur that I can’t understand but I find myself zoning out. Are the brothers really talking about overthrowing their father and using his new wife to do it? That’s insane. It’s a suicide mission. But I mean, damnnnnn. I am so here for that showdown, but on the other hand, a game like that could only result in countless lives lost. It’s not something I want to be anywhere near. Not if I value my life.
If Giovanni DeAngelis and the rest of the DeAngelis family got wind of this, the brothers would be slaughtered. It would mean war. But it leaves me with one hell of a decision. Do I go running my mouth to their father and have them killed for my freedom, or will it backfire on me and I’ll just end up as one of the many casualties?
A loud bang comes from inside the dining room and I jump at the sound. “Where the fuck is this girl? I thought she was told ten minutes?” Roman growls.
Well, fuck.
17
I reach forward and push my way through the massive double doors of the dining room only to have all three of the famous fucklords staring back at me.
Just great. This is going to be a shit storm.
Roman stands, his tight fists pressing against the dining table. “Where the fuck have you been?” he demands. “You were given ten minutes to get yourself presentable and you show up looking like this?”
I swallow hard and drop my gaze down my body. My hair is definitely a mess and slightly frizzy from the half-assed dry that I just put it through, while my dress is crooked and twisted at my waist. My makeup seems alright, at least, I thought it did.
“I—”
“No,” Roman says, holding up a hand and cutting off my argument. “I don’t want to hear it. Just go and stand in the corner of the room and try not to make a fucking sound. He’ll be here any minute, and if you insist on making it through the next hour, you’ll keep your damn mouth shut. Don’t say a fucking word about what went down last night, and don’t even think about acting like a brat.”