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A Part of the Crowd
Last Updated:
2024-09-09 07:21:24
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EleniI fidget with the waistband of the leggings Dante packed in the bag for me to change into before entering the prison and wish they hadn’t taken my ring. Apparently, the whole “no metal allowed” thing isn’t really negotiable. A burly woman stands on the opposite side of the table from me, one hand on her thick baton and the other on a walkie-talkie. I clear my throat.“Vanessa?”She quirks an eyebrow at me.“Hank sent me.” I feel ridiculous. All these code words…it’s like I’m in a kid’s movie, not a women’s prison upstate.Still, that makes Vanessa hit something on her walkie that dims the constant static pouring from it a second before the door buzzes loudly. I look up.Escorted by two more guards, chained wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, Camila stumbles in through the heavy door. She’s barely recognizable. Her long, beautiful hair shines with grease in its loose bun at the back of her neck. The orange jumpsuit does the opposite of her endless whites and pastels, turning her a
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DanteI lean against the wall of the elevator chugging up the building to where Eleni waits and look at myself in the shiny black reflection. My suit nearly disappears, but my face sticks out like a sore thumb. If elevator reflections can be believed, I look pale and tired. In its defense, I feel pale and tired. It’s Friday, and I’ve barely seen El all week except to pack her off to the women’s prison to talk to a psychopath who kidnapped her. Even worse, I’ve spent almost the whole week at Piacere.Just thinking about my once-beautiful club hurts. My shoes and the bottoms of my pants are gray from tramping through ash, trying to find anything in the wreckage worth salvaging. Somebody located the door to the basement, which is mostly untouched, on Wednesday, so we’ve been in and out of there constantly. I’ve got a metric fuck-ton of booze and nowhere to sell it. The stage, the lights, the bars, all gone in one blaze. Two people fucking died. Going out to Piacere every day is a nightma
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EleniDante stares down at me, his black eyes burning. A laugh bubbles in my chest. Camila is dead. She can never touch either of us or the baby again.“Did I ask you to kill her?” he says quietly.If I didn’t know him well enough to recognize the lilt of play in his voice even when he’s pretending to be exactly the mafia boss I met so long ago, I’d be frightened. Instead, I smile.“Did you ask me to go to the bathroom this morning?”He grabs my chin hard. “It seems I’ve been a bit lax in your training, pet. You’re acting out.”“I’m protecting this family.” I run my tongue over the tip of his thumb. “When you couldn’t.”He knows I don’t believe that, but I watch doubt flicker in his eyes for a second. His grip loosens.“Green?” I whisper.“Are you just trying to rile me up?” he replies.I nod. “I love you.”“I love you too.” He kisses the top of my head. “Green.”His hold on me tightens again as he snaps back into his persona. “I am more than happy to remind you what happens when you
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Eleni“Thank you,” Mikey, one of Dante’s older capos, says in his gravelly voice. “I know Dante’s been pulling things together for a couple weeks now, but it didn’t feel right starting things up again without toasting the kid.”I swallow against a lump in my throat and glance at one of the pictures of Seb hung in the room. “I know what you mean. And thank you for your help out here.”He raises a glass. “Hey, I’ll take the credit, but most of it belongs to my Adrianna.”His wife, a slightly tidier version of the mafia wives I’ve grown used to in Staten Island, smiles. “Don’t let Mikey trick you. He strong-armed the owner into letting us have the place on such short notice.”I raise an eyebrow. The quiet event space over the bridge in Partridge is perfect, close enough to the city to get back if something happens but far enough that we all agreed the Russians wouldn’t try to crash. That said, I’m not sure I want someone strong-armed into it.“Adri!” He laughs. “I promised to coach softb
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EleniAfter the funeral, Dante is quiet in the car. The windshield wipers fill the silence between us as we sit in traffic, headed back into the city.“Do you want to see Piacere?” he asks suddenly.I pluck at the hem of my dress. My stomach is still empty, grumbling in a way I know means I’m losing the next thing I put into it too, and I’m exhausted. But the club I spent so much time in this summer, the place Dante and I really met, is gone, and I haven’t really internalized that yet. Today seems like a day of saying goodbye to things. The secret growing inside me. What Seb and I could have been to each other, if only we had the time. I may as well look at the remains of the life I thought I was going to have when I entered Piacere that first night.“Yeah.”He twists the wheel, and we pull out of the traffic headed into Manhattan for the slightly lighter traffic aimed at our island. The long silence of the drive is almost meditative. Snippets of the last few months slide through my m
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EleniWhen Dante parks the car in the driveway of the house that changed my mind, which I now haven’t seen in over a month, something in my ribcage snaps.“I’m tired,” I say.He nods.“I’m tired of being tired.” I put my hand on his cheek.With a sigh, Dante nods again.“I’m twenty-four.” My voice shakes. “You’re thirty-three.”He laughs bitterly. “Who would believe that?”“No one.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “And I’m tired of that too.”That seems to catch his attention. He looks me over, trying to figure out what’s going on.“Let’s just be young tonight.” I smile. “Let’s…let’s streak through the neighborhood.”“I don’t know that I’m willing to share like that.” He chuckles. “But I don’t think you’ve ever been in my pool.”My smile starts to grow. “Too busy all summer. But I don’t have a swimsuit on.”He unfastens the button holding the front of my jacket together. “Who says you need one?”The blazer falls open, displaying the modest black blouse underneath. I loosen his tie.“I thought
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DanteSunday morning comes bright and early to the bed I custom-ordered so long ago to hold the random women I was fucking. When I wake up next to a naked, fucked-out El, covered in bruises she begged me for from neck to knee, my first thought is that I’ve never asked her if the mattress is comfortable. She’s going to be my wife, the mother of my children. So much of our life is still mine. I kiss her sleeping cheek and roll over to check my phone for mattresses that allow people to adjust both sides to their comfort.I should’ve known. My screen is covered with notifications. Capos, allies, people from the funeral. Tony. I open his first.Cal called me too. I set up a meeting with him and a triad representative to talk. I’ll roll your ass out of bed if I have to.I snort. Cal Duncan is getting bossy. But neither he nor Tony is wrong. If they really have a lead on Fyodor, I need to fucking do something about that. I roll out of bed with a groan and dress quickly to hide the marks El l
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EleniI wave goodbye to Kaley and turn away from her after yet another class. We’re…two weeks into the semester now? Three? No, Professor Villanueva was talking about midterms. How could so much time have passed already?Amando walks up beside me. “Headed home?”I shake my head. “Tony needs a little birdie, and it’s easier to hide my traffic under the other students here.”“But—”I put my hand up to silence him. “Just…let me have this, okay?”Amando stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods. I veer away from the hall that takes us to the back elevators and toward one of the many computer labs. Not that I’d actually use a school machine. That’s insane. But if I work on my laptop in the seating area right outside, it’s easy to spoof one of the IPs in there and disappear into the flow.That’s really how these last god-knows-how-many weeks have felt. Disappearing into the flow. I bounce between Tandon and the apartment, juggling school work and Saints’ work and morning sickness that shows
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*Angelo*This goddamn woman is not only beautiful but also clever as fuck. She definitely knows how to use her appearance and charm to her advantage, blinking those beautiful eyes at me. Even in a T-shirt and jeans, she looks sexy as hell. She doesn’t need to wear anything seductive or whisper dirty words in my ear. Just being under her gaze is enough for my dick to start twitching inside my pants. Fuck!I don’t know why the hell I fell for that, believing she actually needed to go to the bathroom. Maybe, deep down, there’s still some good left in my corroded heart. Or maybe I just didn’t want to believe that she’d be able to trick me. But she almost broke free from me, which would’ve been fucking embarrassing when the guys outside had to bring her back to me, seeing me rolling around on the floor with my smashed up cock in one hand. Needless to say, the pain she caused me made my blood boil. But even so, I can’t force myself to strike her. Not yet. Instead, I pinned her to the floo
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*Tatiana*Okay, fuck, that does sound like a genuine threat. He’s definitely not new to any of this, and he’s used to stubborn people like me. He’s probably faced worse in his years in the mafia, assuming he’s from another syndicate. Judging by the way his eyes are hungry for information, I doubt he’s just a normal person Oleg owes money to or had a bad business deal with.Lev taught me how to hold on during an interrogation as long as I could in several of our lessons in the past, but he never really tortured me while doing so. How am I supposed to act when the real deal is actually happening? I thought I was prepared for this, but maybe I’m not?Am I ready for this man to cut my skin, hold my head under water, pull my nails out of my fingers, and all the dreadful things these people are known for doing? How long until I break?Panic creeps through me again, and I realize I need a plan B before I lose the grip on my self-control and have to start pleading for my life. I don’t wanna
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*Tatiana*I feel like I must’ve gotten run over by a truck. My head is pounding so hard, I feel like vomiting, but even so, I force my eyes to open. There’s no light here except for a dim stream coming through a tiny window near the top of the wall in front of me, so it’s difficult for my eyes to adapt.There are strands of hair in front of my eyes and face, and when I lift my hand to push them aside, I realize my wrists are tied behind my back in what feels like a very thick, tight rope. My legs are also strapped to the chair, both my ankles tied. I can barely move.Panic starts creeping through me as I realize what’s going on. Images of the recent events flash through my mind, making me remember how I ended up here, wherever I am.I look from one side to the other, taking in my surroundings. Even though it’s dark and humid here, I spot some tools and boxes that make me think this has to be a basement. The place is quiet, and there seems to be no one around, although I doubt they’d l
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*Tatiana*Getting someone to help me proves to be an almost impossible task, even once I wander into a populated area of New York City.I know literally no one in this city, and it’s not like I can trust anyone. While I’m fairly certain my adoptive parents had allies here, I have no fucking idea who they are or how to find them. Oleg must have eyes and ears everywhere, so it makes me hesitant to approach anyone.But in this dress, I’m an easy target for anyone who might be helping him. New York is a crazy place, but I’m probably the only woman in a bloody, ripped-up wedding gown on the streets today. If the mob doesn’t get to me, the police certainly will.My stomach is beginning to ache from the knot that formed in there weeks ago, but I force myself to take deep breaths. At least I’m able to hold back my tears–for now. My whole life turned upside down in a blink of an eye, and having to suppress my feelings so I don’t show my weakness to Oleg and Yakov has taken its toll on me.Pic
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TatianaHow the hell am I supposed to escape this place when I have no fucking idea where I am? Running toward the back of the chapel seemed to make the most sense to me since the fighting is all happening at the front–at least for now–so I sprint toward the door the priest likely used and pray it’s unlocked.Thankfully, it is. I slam through it, looking around to ascertain if there’s any danger here. I see the priest huddled in the corner and almost roll my eyes. Hiking my skirt up, I take off toward a door I believe has to be an exit.“You shouldn’t go that!” he shouts. “They’re out there, too!”But my momentum carries me through the door before I can think, and I nearly run into a couple of Oleg’s men who are defending the back entryway against what appears to be another syndicate, one of the many groups of enemies Oleg has accumulated over the years, no doubt.“How the fuck did they find us?” one of the men in front of me shouts to the other in a thick Russian accent. I just have
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*Tatiana*I spend most of my time in “my” room. Images of my parents bleeding out fill my mind, whether I’m awake or asleep. Even sitting by the window, staring out at the serene garden behind the mansion, I can’t shake the overwhelming sadness and revulsion that fills my body with every shuddering breath I inhale.No one comes into my room except for the maids–and that’s a good thing. When I have to see Oleg again, it will be all I can do to keep from lunging at him and trying to take him out right now. I will kill him–but I can’t be impulsive, or I’ll spoil my chance. Something tells me he won’t hesitate to kill me if he feels it’s necessary, regardless of all of his plans for me.No, I need to bide my time. Lie in wait. Strike when the timing is right.When I’m not picturing my parents’ pale bodies sitting in those chairs, I imagine what it will be like to kill him. That’s the only time I allow myself a bit of happiness, a small smile, when I think about what it will be like to hav
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*Tatiana*As soon as the plane touches down at JFK airport, a wave of anxiety washes over me. This is my first time leaving my home country of Russia. I’ve spent my entire life looking over my shoulder, waiting for my asshole uncle, Oleg Romina, to show up and finish the job he started twenty years ago when he murdered my parents in cold blood. Now, he’s summoned the only parents I’ve ever known, Lev and Ilya Ivanov, to return to America. I insisted they bring me along, but as we deboard the plane, a sense of unease settles into my chest.My biological father, Petr Romina, used to be the boss of the Romina Empire, a smaller Russian mob that has territory in several countries, including New York where Oleg resides. When I was old enough to understand the kind of life our family used to have, Lev and Illya told me the truth about my parents’ deaths. My mother was my dad’s mistress, and when Oleg learned that they were planning on getting married, his greed made him murder both of them,
