She glared at me. “If the game is wearing lingerie for you, then no thanks.”
“Ah, shit, that’s just a prank. A fun prank at that.”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
“Cora.” I spread my head. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been patient. You’re treating me like I’m your dad.”
Her eyes flashed rage and this time it didn’t abate. She took a few steps toward me. “What the hell do you know about that?”
“You said he brought a string of women into your life, and yeah, I get it, he’s probably a real piece of shit—but that doesn’t mean we’re all bastards. I don’t plan on treating you that way.”
“Don’t you get it? We’re not really married.”
“I understand that.”
“Then why can’t you leave me alone?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
She threw up her hands. “You’re impossible.”
“You turn me on.” I tilted my head with a little grin. “Come on, Cora. You don’t have to act like you want me to die.”
“Maybe I do want that.” She voice was low and harsh, simmering with hate—and something else. “Maybe I want all you mafia assholes to die.”
“We’re not that bad, you know.”
“You’re definitely that bad. All you assholes—you think you’re better than everyone outside the family, and you have no respect for human life.”
She was trembling and I stared at her, trying to understand what the hell she was talking about. No doubt the mafia families were violent, and I sure as hell had my own fair share of blood on my hands, but I wasn’t going around murdering innocent people.
Only those in the game were fair targets. With everyone else, it was live and let live.
That’s how it always went. Mafia families fought each other, but they didn’t hurt civilians, and not exactly for high-minded reasons, either. Killing civilians got attention, and mafia families didn’t want attention from anyone, not the cops and not the media.
But if a few drug dealers disappeared one day? Nobody gave a damn about that.
“You don’t know me, little wife.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Wife. You’re my wife. Get fucking used to it.”
“Fuck you. How about that? Fuck you. You’re all the same, you know that? You’re a bunch of arrogant assholes that think you can trample anyone that gets in your way, but you know what? You don’t deserve what you have.” She took a step closer, eyes tearing up, body shaking, face red with rage. “You can take your presents and shove them up your ass. You wear that lingerie if you care about it so much.”
She stormed past me. I let her go, although I wanted to grab her wrist and shove her against the wall. I wanted to push my lips against hers and feel her struggle against me, wanted to taste the sweat on her skin and hear her moans in my ear—but I knew we were a long way from that. I watched her disappear upstairs and leaned my head back against the wall.
My personal shopper lady was going to be pissed when I returned all that shit.4CoraI was so angry I could barely sleep. I stayed up all night staring at the ceiling, trying to get thoughts of Alex out of my head. I tried not to picture his bloody, bullet-ridden body on the ground, tried not to think about the stupid grin on that bastard made man that killed him—and tried not to think of his mother’s tears as the family paid her off to keep her quiet about her son’s murder.
Bastards. All of them bastards.
I hated the family. I always had a grudge against it, since my dad was a dick after all, and I grew up with all those egos and douches, but I never despised them like I do now. No, it took a single peek behind the curtain at the sordid and disturbing way they treat human life to really understand that the Leone Crime Family doesn’t give a damn about anything but themselves.
Reid left me alone the next day. He disappeared early and didn’t come back until late. I spent most of the afternoon wandering around the neighborhood, my hands shoved in my pockets, watching people walk past—old couples with tiny white dogs, young guys busking in the park, couples sitting on picnic blankets, friends throwing frisbees—and wondered how I could get a taste of a normal existence.
Instead, I was cursed Cora, bastard mafia princess.
I went for a run as soon as Reid came back, just to get some more time away. When I got back, he was watching football and drinking whiskey. He didn’t acknowledge me as I went upstairs and got in the shower.
I cleaned myself off, letting the hot water run down my skin, and closed my eyes, trying not to picture the mountains of clothes I’d sent back. I never had much in my life, even though everyone assumed I’d been given everything. My father liked to say that a spoiled bitch was still a bitch, and I’d better learn to work for anything I wanted, which was pretty hard when he never let me get a job. The girls at school were all afraid of me, and so I had no friends. They whispered behind my back and talked about how I was the daughter of a killer and a thief and a monster—and they weren’t wrong.