Nacy is much more pliable. She’s a people-pleaser, and she wouldn’t do anything to annoy dear old Mom and Dad. Unfortunately, she lives in a fucking fantasy world. She’s so sweet and tender-hearted that she doesn’t have the tiniest clue what it takes to keep this family in power. So she’s pretty much useless.That doesn’t mean I don’t care about her, though. She’s so genuinely good that it’s impossible not to love her.I’m pleased to see her so happy today. She’s over the moon about this party, even though it barely has anything to do with her. She’s running around sampling all the desserts, admiring the decorations, without a clue that the one and only reason for this event is to secure support for my campaign to become Alderman of the 43rd Ward.The election takes place in a month. The 43rd Ward includes the whole Lakefront: Lincoln Park, the New, and Botch Town. Next to the mayorship, it’s the most powerful position in the city of New York.For the last twelve years, the seat was h

He then bent over and began to kiss her from the neck down to the small of her back, then back up to her neck. His tongue was cool, and he tasted mint, man, and coffee and escaped—and Dakota didn’t at that point question it. All she did was feel it. The bliss of firm lips and the scent that had always made itself known captivated her as they intensified in their close proximity.His body to touch was everything her eyes had promised—lean and powerful beneath her hands and against her own body.Maxwell had a thing for the naked back of a woman. He felt it was one of the most sensual things about her. His arms pulled her in, and his mouth was pressing on hers.Wrapping her in his embrace and crushing her with his mouth. Maxwell cupped her through her moist haven and she whimpered, “Oh God!” her body arching against the wall behind her. "You are mine, Dakota. Condom or no condom." His thumb found her clit and dug its way through the fabric, pressing hard and massaging it in lazy circles.

“What is it with you Italians?” he sneers. “Where did you learn your manners? You come to a party where you’re not invited. Eat my food, drink my liquor. Then you break into my house. Try to burn it the fuck down. And you steal from me . . .”I feel Sebby stiffen ever so slightly. He doesn’t look back at me, but I know he wants to.I’m also confused about what the fuck Calester is talking about. Then I remember the pocket watch, still tucked in the front pocket of my shorts. I’d completely forgotten about it.“Look,” Sebby says, “the fire was an accident. We don’t want any trouble.”“Well that’s just bullshit, isn’t it?” Calester says softly. “You came looking for trouble. And now you’ve got it.”It’s not easy to rile up Sebby. Threatening his little sister is a good way to do it. Now he’s bristling, balling up his fists in return, and stepping all the way in front of me.“You think you’re some kinda tough guy, bringing your boyfriend along?” Sebby says, jerking his head toward the st

JuliaMy brothers are down in the basement, suiting up. Or at least, Donald and Neil are. Sebby is still at the hospital with my father. His knee is fucked, that much is certain. Ribs are broken, too. I can’t bear the look of misery on his face. His season is ruined. Possibly the rest of his career. God, he might not even walk right after this.And it’s all my fault.The guilt is like a shroud, wrapping around and around and around my head. Each glance at Sebby, each memory of my idiocy, is like another layer wrapping around my face. Soon it will smother me.I wanted to stay with Sebby, but Father snapped at me to go home.There I found Donald and Neil strapping on bulletproof vests and ammo belts, arming themselves with half the guns in the house.“Where are you going?” I ask them nervously.“We’re going to kill Calester Green, obviously,” Neil says. “Maybe the rest of his family, too. I haven’t decided yet.”“You can’t hurt Nacy,” I say quickly. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”Neith

“That’s completely different!” I tell them. “You were from the same culture, the same background. The Geralds are mobsters. They’re old school, in the worst sense of the word.”“That’s part of the value they’ll provide,” my father says bluntly. “As we’ve grown in wealth and influence, we’ve lost our edge. You’re my only son. Your mother lost both her brothers. There are precious few men on my side of the family. In pure muscle, we only have what we pay for. You can never be sure of the loyalty of hired guns—there’s always someone willing to pay more. Since Chris took over, the Braterstwo are becoming a serious threat to us, something we can’t necessarily deal with on our own. The Italians have the same problem. With our two families aligned, the Butcher won’t dare strike at either of us.”“Great,” I say. “But who’s going to protect me from my betrothed? That girl is a wild animal. Can you imagine her as a politician’s wife? I doubt she even knows how to walk in heels.”