“I think that went well, don’t you?” Mother asks, still painted up out of character.
“You bought a goat sculpture for fifty thousand dollars,” I remind her. Her blue eyes narrow in my direction.
“Just because you come to these fancy auctions and throw money at charities, doesn’t mean people don’t still look at us like we’re criminals. Our last name is Bravado, and it always will be.” My tongue sharp, my words cut my mother open like a knife. She turns her head, her lips rolling onto one another. She wants out so bad, to not be what my father made us but we are the Bravados, we are criminals. We are the east side mafia. Even if my father ran out on us when I was just a child, leaving me the throne which I refuse to take… his murderous actions will always be remembered. Leaning forward, I grab a glass and a bottle of Chardonnay that was placed in ice. I fill it, drinking the whole glass in one gulp.
“Leona,” my mother hisses. My eyes pop over to her. So quaint and nearly killing herself to impress others, I swear she’s lost who she is. She used to be loud, aggressive, and funny. Until the papers followed our every move after my father left.
Until she became afraid.
Setting the glass down, my body rocks back and forth as we ride back to our large house sitting on the east side of Manhattan.
The limo stops at a stoplight and a commotion catches my eye. A salon my mother frequents often is on fire, the windows broke out, and chairs thrown out onto the curb. A man stands over another man with a bat relentlessly beating him. My heart pounds at the sight before me, and I open the car door. Climbing out bare foot, I run toward the scene.
“Stop!” I scream. Bat held above his head, the man looks my way and the breath is sucked from my lungs like the reaper just drifted over me taking my very soul. Handsome in a fit suit, but the rage of a thousand headless horsemen staring right at me.
“Kieran DeAngelo,” I whisper. He drops the bat and stares right at me. Heat from the rolling flames can be felt on my exposed arms and shoulders, my cheeks warm.
“Leona, get back in the car now!” my mother pleads, but I can’t take my eyes off of him. His dress shirt is rolled up showing his tattoos. His face sweaty, lips parted. He looks like a villain, yet completely beautiful.
The raging fire behind him illuminating just how callous he really is just dawning on me as I stand in the street in a cocktail dress with no shoes. Both of us silently staring at one another, imprinting one another into each other’s soul without even realizing it. Excitement blossoms in my chest and it scares me. Why aren’t I afraid? What if he comes after me?
A black Navigator flies around the corner, stopping just in front of Kieran. Running his hands through his hair, he finally looks away and gets in, the tires of the car screeching before pulling off.
Pops and crackles sound from the salon, and the man on the ground groans, holding his arm. His face all bloody. It’s the husband of the salon owner, I’ve seen him there before when Mom had a hair appointment.
“Damn it, Leona!” my mother calls for me again. Taking a step back, I slowly descend toward the limo. The guy rolls over onto his stomach and begins to wail when he realizes his business is in flames and ash.
“This is your fault!” He points at me, and my mouth parts, the piercing sound of a fire truck nearby echoes in my ears. My dad left the protection of the east side in my hands but I was just a kid, I don’t want anything to do with the mafia business. The ranks, the so-called power that comes with inflicting fear and terror into dozens of our own family and friends. It’s a seed that blossoms into a darkness you can’t escape from. I slip into the car and slam the door shut. Guilt ripping at my insides, my hand still on the door handle, I feel dazed and confused. It’s like we’re the bad guys no matter what we do.
“GO!” my mother orders the driver before snapping her eyes toward me. “What were you thinking?”
Glancing down at my feet, now black from ash, I don’t know what to say. For the first time in my life I’m at a loss for words.
What possessed me to get out of the car? I’m losing my damn mind.
Closing my eyes, I can still see Kieran’s villainous eyes like a bad memory seared in my brain, the way he glared at me as if he could see right through me causes my heart to beat a little faster all over again. But not from fear, but of excitement.
God, he looked so hard and monstrous. It makes me wonder if he has a kind bone in his body at all. I look to the window just as the fire truck passes us.
“You know who that was, don’t you?”
I close my eyes and nod.
I know who he is, and he knows who I am.
Ever since we were kids, our family put us against each other.
We’re enemies.
Rivals.
Which is why we stay away from one another.
Until tonight.
Arriving at our mansion, I open my car door before the driver has a chance to even get out. Shoes in my hand, my mother follows me up the steps into our palace of luxury, yelling about my reckless behavior. Inside the foyer my grandmother comes around the corner, her golden cane helping her walk. Her tan skin is more wrinkled than the day before, her dress loose and reminding me of something someone from Hawaii would wear.
“What happened? What’s going on?” she asks, her gray eyebrows lifting with concern as she looks from me to my mother.
“Your granddaughter tried to be a hero and stepped out of the car when a couple of thugs were going at it in front of Tina’s Salon,” my mother clips, taking her earrings off as she explains to my grandmother what happened. But she missed a very important detail.
“That thug was Kieran DeAngelo,” I inform her, and her eyes widen just as my grandmother’s mouth drops open. My grandma wants me to take my place and do something to the DeAngelos, to set them straight on whose territory they’re edging on. But my mother is afraid and wants nothing to do with the legacy my father left us. I say just wait, dad will be back.
“What did he say, did he hurt you?” Grandma steps closer, her cane clanking against the marble flooring.
Switching my shoes to my other hand, I glance down. “He didn’t say anything,” I mutter, remembering his eyes, and how he looked possessed. It was like a demon resided inside of the most handsome man in the city. I was bewitched and couldn’t look away.
“Did he recognize you?” my mother asks, both of her earrings in her hand now. Panic lacing her voice.
Raising my eyes to her, I shrug. “I don’t know.”
But he did. The way he looked at me, I can tell he knew exactly who I was.
His family has warned ours for years to stay on our side, and to keep out of their way. When my father was here, we were at war with the DeAngelos constantly. There was never a time when we were in the same room that someone was not trying to kill the other. Some say that my dad didn’t run from the DeAngelos but was taken by them; killed.
My heart beating faster out of fear, rather than excitement at the thought of my father being dead, I head for the stairs to head to my room. I’ve had enough for one night.
“I want some men at our door for the night,” my mother tells the driver who stands by the front door, glancing over my shoulder I watch him give a curt nod. He’s more than just a wheel man, he’s a trained killer. Just because we haven’t practiced our legacy in thuggery, doesn’t mean we don’t keep our men close by in case we need them. I have cousins that work underneath me, waiting for me to give an order. Practically begging for something to do, but I won’t do it. I won’t allow one deal to slip by my palms until my father returns home. I don’t deserve this position, it doesn’t matter how much my family tries to groom me for the position. I don’t want it. It’s not mine.