37. Marco

Chapter 37

Marco

I slip back down the staircase alone ten minutes later, my tongue still tasting like my Laura, my dick half-hard, and my heart racing in my throat.

Walking away from her was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but it was necessary. We can't draw too much attention to ourselves, especially now that most of the people in this room know who she is. At least, they know the girl in her mask is the artist.

I catch Angelo's eye as I walk past. He gives me a very slight nod, which I return. Feels fucking bizarre, playing nice with a Bianco, but of all the brothers, at least he was in prison for the worst of the fighting.

They're always going to be my enemies. I don't think I have forgiveness in my heart, not enough to encompass all of them at least. It's not easy, lingering in this room knowing Simon Bianco is maybe fifty feet away at all times, but Laura overrides all that.

I don't have to like them. I just have to stop trying to kill them.

If it means I can have her, I'll let it go.

The crowd is packed into the gallery space. A low, constant murmur of conversation fills the rooms. Everyone's in a mask, which makes this situation a thousand times more dangerous. Adam's coming, and he's bringing Dusan, Julien, and Ronan, and they're going to do some serious damage. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but it'll be soon, while the party's still ongoing.

Focus. Stick to the plan. I head up to the bar and get a glass of whiskey. It's awkward to drink and I have to tilt my mask back, but the alcohol helps steady my nerves and gives me something to do while I study the crowd, trying desperately to spot my former allies.

I hate this. I don't want to be here. But Laura was adamant, and no amount of convincing would change her mind. She believes tonight is our best shot at getting her away from her older brother, and she's probably right, at least in the near future. I'd rather wait for another opportunity, even if it takes years to come around, instead of risking her life at this party. She doesn't give a damn what I think.

It's frustrating, but it's also what I love about her.

"Got to be honest, I didn't expect you to show up."

I look to my left. A woman in a green-and-black snake mask is staring at me. She's got luscious dark hair, and her dress is red and clinging to her body. She'd be beautiful, if I didn't know her so fucking well.

"Valentina."

My former best friend leans against the bar next to me. We're at the far end, away from where people are ordering their drinks. "You wore the same mask. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. She likes it."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Around." She shrugs. "Don't worry about it."

"Aren't you worried?" I study her closely, searching for a tell, but the Valentina I knew is well hidden. She's got her dress, her heels, and her mask, and I can't read her at all anymore.

"You know, I was scared all the time. Remember that? Right after Dad was killed."

"Half his Famiglia wanted to grab you and marry you. The other half wanted to shoot you in the face. You had every reason to be worried."

She tilts her head as if in thought. "You're right. I mean, I remember, and I know you're right. You really did save me back then."

"So why are you doing this? Tell me what Adam's planning. I can still stop it."

She dips her finger in her drink and puts it between her lip. Rum and Coke, her favorite. "I realized something recently. There's a reason Dad's Capos wanted me, right?"

"You were their path to legitimacy."

"To the stupid ones, yeah, that's true. But to the smart ones? The ones that wanted to kill me? They saw me as a rival ."

I hesitate and try not to give away anything. She's too busy staring out at the crowd to read my body language though. "Don't tell me you have regrets."

"Oh, Marco, I really, really do. Because if I hadn't been so afraid, I could've been the one to pull Dad's organization back together. I was in the position to do it, right? I was his daughter. Those Capos might've listened."

"They would've killed you."

"Maybe. Maybe. But who knows? I listened to you, and I was afraid, and now here we are."

"Val—"

"It's nothing personal. I think you're a good person and an even better friend, I really do, but that girl made you soft. You don't have the stomach for what needs to be done anymore."

"This won't fix anything," I say quietly, moving closer. "Where's Adam? What's he planning?"

"It's not too late to leave. Seriously, Marco, just walk away."

"No, Val, you don't get it." I reach for her, but she's slipping out of my grasp.

"Good luck out there." She moves further away. "I don't hate you. I'm just disappointed."

"Val, you need to leave. Val—" But she doesn't hear me. She's already in the crowd, slipping her way between couples, losing herself.

I watch her go. I want to grab her, drag her out of here, and keep her safe, but that's not my role anymore. She's making her own choice and I have to respect it, even if I know she's wrong.

I can't change her mind. Luciano wasn't my father—he was a mentor, he was important, but he wasn't blood. Valentina's got too much of her dad in her to ever let this go, and I can't even say that I blame her. She might even be right: if she had been bold in the days after her father's death, she might've been able to pull the Santoro Famiglia back from the brink.

Instead, that's not how it worked out.

"Oh, shit, Val," I say quietly to myself as I scan the crowd again. "This isn't a trap for the Biancos. This is a trap for you ."