“Delivery?” Roman grunts, before turning a glaring gaze on Marcus. “What the fuck did you order?”
Marcus’ hands fly up, his instincts to defend himself freeing me from being pushed into some small, dirty hallway cupboard. “I didn’t order anything,” he shoots back at Roman, his tone filled with offense at being blamed for whatever the fuck is going on here. “It was probably Ariana weeks ago before she got ran out. You know how she liked to indulge in her credit cards.”
Roman watches Marcus for a long moment before finally glancing back at Levi. “What is it?”
Levi’s stare remains out the window, his brows furrowing further by the second. “I … I think they’re decorations.”
“Decorations?” Marcus questions, his hand curling around mine and keeping me close as he trails closer to the nearest window to get a quick look. We peer out into the driveway to find the back of all three vans wide open and a total of six men in matching uniforms hauling shit out of the vans. “The fuck is going on?”
Roman creeps in closer, moving in behind me and peering out over my head, his brows drawn with a fierce suspicion as he shoves the gun in his hand back into the waistband of his jeans. “I have no fucking idea.”
Marcus turns to glance at his brothers, a stupid grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “Not it,” he says in a chirpy singsong tone making Levi rush in just a moment later. “Yeah, I’m out too,” he says, meeting Roman’s hard stare. “This one is all yours, brother.”
Roman sighs and takes another look out the window. “As if I’d trust you assholes to take care of this in the first place.” And with that, he walks across the foyer and tears open the front door, his back taut and still prepared for a threat.
I find myself creeping closer and closer to the door until I eventually stand right at Roman’s side, all to his dismay. He subtly reaches out and pushes my body half behind his before shooting me an irritated glare, but hell, after I allowed him to use and abuse my body like his own personal play toy the other day, I have got a newfound ability to get away with whatever the hell I want. Though, I don’t doubt it comes with an expiration date.
Realizing that I’m not about to scurry away, Roman turns his attention back to the six men at the bottom of the stairs. “Can I help you?” he says, his tone sailing right down to them as clearly as if he’d been standing right behind them.
One guy stops what he’s doing and turns to glance up at Roman, shielding his eyes from the hot afternoon sun. “Where do you want this stuff?”
“I don’t fucking want it,” Roman shoots back. “What’s going on here? We didn’t order any of this.”
The guy stares at him blankly, his brows drawing down before he glances at some other dude stacking a bunch of chairs onto a wide trolley. “Aye, he says he didn’t order this shit.”
The trolley guy pauses and glances up at Roman before letting out a frustrated sigh and digging papers out of his pocket. He glances over them. “Are you Giovanni DeAngelis?” he questions, blocking out the sun just as his colleague had. “It says something about an annual party. We have ongoing instructions to be here on this date every year.”
A moment passes before Roman’s murmured “Ah, fuck,” fills the airs around us.
Marcus and Levi appear in the doorway as the delivery guys stare up at us, impatiently waiting to be told what to do. “The fuck is going on?” Marcus questions as Roman turns to meet his brother’s confused stare.
“It’s that stupid DeAngelis annual ball Ariana had Father start a few years back. That was supposed to be tonight,” he says, clearly having figured out what the fuck this is all about.
Marcus scoffs. “Like fuck we’re going ahead with that shit,” he says, looking down at the delivery men and indicating to the piles of shit they’ve started unloading. “Pack it all up. We don’t need it. The only balls I’ll be showing up for are the ones between my legs.”
A laugh catches in my throat and I immediately choke on my own air while Marcus slaps a helpful hand into the center of my back. “You good, babe?”
“Hold up. Don’t pack up anything just yet,” Levi says, holding his hands out and stopping the delivery guys before anyone can make any hasty decisions. He glances at his brothers. “Everyone comes to this fucking ball. All the cousins and their wives. It’d be the perfect opportunity to stake our claim as the new leaders of this family.”
Roman looks thoughtful for a moment before turning his gaze to Marcus. “Plus, it’s a good chance to figure out what’s being said, see where loyalties lie.”
“Not to mention,” Levi throws in. “Tensions are riding high. Someone is bound to break and send someone else to an early grave. We couldn’t possibly skip out on prime-time entertainment like that.”
Marcus sighs. “Seriously? You know how those fucking suits make my balls sweat.”
I look up at Marcus. “Twice. That’s twice! How does someone bring up their balls twice in such a short time?”
Levi’s brows arch in consideration. “It’s really not that hard,” he tells me. “Now talking about someone else’s balls in such a short time without coming across as batting for the other side is where it gets a little tricky.”
“You talk about other men’s balls often?”
Levi laughs, his lips kicking up into a ridiculous smirk. “You’d be shocked at how often the topic comes up.”
Roman shakes his head, irritation flaring in his obsidian eyes. “Can we get back to the fucking ball?” he demands. “Are we doing it or not?”
Marcus shrugs his shoulders and lets out a heavy sigh just as another van pulls into the top of the driveway that says something about ‘Delight Catering’ on the side. “Are either of you going to spend the next few hours calling everyone to let them know it’s canceled? Because I’m not,” he says, knowing damn well that they won’t be doing it either. “People are going to show up whether we want them to or not. We might as well go ahead with it and use it to our advantage.”
Roman nods in complete agreement. “Then it’s settled,” he says, glancing down at the delivery drivers. “Start unloading and make it quick. I don’t want anyone in my house any longer than necessary.”