“Yes, Leona.” Her name slips from my lips like a foreign language. She’s a mysterious creature for sure. I’m supposed to hate her, our blood poison to one another yet I’m very intrigued by her.
“Bravado?” His double chin jiggles asking me for clarification.
I nod.
Raising his hand, he rubs his chin, looking out one of my windows. Silence blankets the room and I can tell he’s thinking.
“Meet me at the yacht tonight,” he finally says, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Tonight,” I accept.
He points at me.
“Call your mother.”
“She doesn’t make any sense when I see her. She’s always drunk and high. You know that,” I clip, and he shakes his head.
“I’ll make some phone calls and get this mess of yours cleaned up,” he says under his breath walking toward my front door.
I can’t help the puzzled look that falls over my face. “Phone calls?” His statement unsettles me. Is he going to try and wipe out the Bravado family? “Are you trying to start a war? Because if you are, it’s pointless, she isn’t going to say anything.” I follow him out, but he doesn’t respond. His silence telling me he’s taking over this situation and there’s nothing I can do about it.
He leaves, two beefy goons I don’t recognize standing closely behind him for protection as he disappears.
I slam the door, locking it shut.
Looks like I’m going to have to pay Leona a visit and see for myself if she’s something that needs taken care of.
Leona
Sitting on the balcony adjacent to my room, dressed in only my black and gold Versace bathrobe, I kick my feet up onto the lattice railing and let the warm summer sun wake me instead of a coffee this mid-morning. Flowers from Central Park can be smelled within the light breeze today, the affect calming me. People walk their dogs, talk on their phones, and jog just like any other day. Suddenly, three black cars pull up in front of our house, and I arch a brow at the unfamiliarity. That’s unusual, then again my mom did ask for security last night, who knows what she’s got going on today. Letting my feet down, I return to my room where it’s cooler from the air-conditioner and shut the balcony doors, my bare feet padding against the carpet as I pass my sleigh bed and with the highest thread count available, its comfort beckons me back to accompany it for a small nap. A loud noise downstairs has the hairs on the back of my neck raise. I hear male voices shouting from downstairs. Fisting the knob to my door, I jerk it to open it, only it won’t budge. It’s as if someone is on the outside holding it shut.
I slam my fist on the door.
“Move!” I order, but there’s not a sound to be heard. Maybe nobody’s there and the door is just being tricky, so I try the handle again but it’s still not opening. Something is going on. Nostrils flaring, I let go of the door and fetch my phone from my side table making sure to pull the pocket pistol fastened underneath free as well while calling my mother’s cell. It goes to voicemail. I try my grandmother. Voicemail.
Running my fingers down my contacts, I hover over the name Dominic. He’d be my advisor if I were to actually take my place in the ring of criminals. He’s one of my many cousins.
The phone rings once and he picks up.
“What’s wrong?” He knows if I’m calling, it’s for dire reasons.
“I don’t know, I think something is wrong. These cars pulled up, men were yelling downstairs, and I cannot get out of my—”
Suddenly my door just opens, and I stand straight with my mouth hung open like a fish out of water. I shove the gun inside the elastic of my thong, under my robe, the thin material barely able to hold its weight.
“Leona!” Dominic yells my name, reminding me he’s still on the phone, but I just watch the door. Waiting for someone to step through. “I’m on my way, don’t move!” he continues.
My feet move before my mind realizes that I’m walking toward my door. I open it wider, finding nobody around. I step farther out into the hall, my phone still in my hand.
“Mother?”
My grandmother walks out from under the banister, looking up at me. Her gray hair pulled back making her skin look a little tighter, she smiles at me. She’s fully dressed in a floral dress that wraps around her reminding me of a sweet Hawaiian flower.
“We need to talk, sweetheart.”
The edge in her voice cuts through the air like a jagged sword. There’s hidden meaning in that one sentence than I can pick a part this very second.
“Who was here?” My eyes sweep to the door. Which is now shut and showing no signs of anyone being here.
“Come to the dining hall, and it will all be explained,” she says softly, her head slowly lowering and breaking eye contact, she walks away. The only sound in the house is her cane against the floor.
Crossing my arms, I round the railing I head down the stairs just as Dominic slams through the entrance, some of our men behind him. I stop, astonished he appeared so fast.
I haven’t seen him since we were kids. I remember us huddled up in a small room while search parties looked for my father all night. He’s changed a lot since then. Sleeves of tattoos lick up and down his muscular arms, his stark dark hair shorter now, and he seems taller too. He looks around the foyer, gun drawn, and focused.
“What’s wrong? Where is your mother?” he asks in a rough, raspy voice.
I shake my head.
“I don’t know what is going on, I was told to meet them in the dining hall. But something is happening, I can feel it,” I explain, pulling the sash of my robe tighter. His shoulders relax, his black shirt releasing the grip it had on his strong chest while he shoves his gun back in its holster. He was made for this life, one of guns and mayhem, it’s clear to see. I can’t help but wonder what he’s been up to since I’ve shut things down in the Bravado family.
Holding his hand out to me, his bright green eyes flick to mine. His sharp jaw speckled with scruff, he smirks.
“Well, let’s go find out,” he says confidently.
Coming into the dining room, the large mahogany table takes up a majority of the exquisite room. Wall paper of gold, and a chandelier of crystal pricking the final touches of its ever so posh essence. Pulling a chair out I sit, my mother and grandmother across from me, their faces wrinkled with concern. Dominic stands right behind me in waiting for them to spill what’s going on. His stance almost as if he’s my protector is very much wanted right now.
My mother stretches her hands across the table, her name brand bracelets clanking against the top, making the gesture of wanting to hold my palm in hers.
“Leona—” Her voice cracks with hesitation, her face looking older this morning as she hasn’t had time to put on her face.
“An opportunity has presented itself,” my grandmother takes over, and my eyes sweep to her, her voice holding more fortitude than my mother’s. “As you know, we have many enemies even without us being out of the game as long as we have.”
“And?” I urge her to get on with what’s going on.
“Emilio DeAngelo paid us a visit offering us peace if you take the hand of their oldest son.”