A wet cloth being pressed to my forehead caused me to gasp, my eyes blinking against the bright light that seemed like it was being shone directly at them.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty,” an amused voice greeted me, pulling away the damp cloth. I recognized him as Angelo’s driver. He was young, probably the same age as I was. Placing a hand on my back, he helped me to sit up on the large antique styled sofa. “How do you feel?”

My mouth was dry, and I felt dizzy, and a tad nauseous. “Fine,” I answered stubbornly, my voice coming out raspy and a little slurred.

He smirked, seeing straight through the lie. “My name is Andre,” he said, as he pushed to his feet. His dark brown, almost black eyes sparkled in the light of the room, and his inky colored hair fell across his forehead.

“I’d say it was nice to meet you, but if you work for Angelo, then I’m already judging you.”

His deep laugh was a rumble, it rolled smoothly over me, and even I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corner of my mouth.

“Well, it’s actually nice to meet you,” he replied, holding out the cold cloth which I took gratefully and pressed against my head, sighing happily. “It’s amusing to see Angelo so wound up over a woman, I’m getting a kick out of it.”

I snorted, which only caused Andre’s grin to grow wider. “Nothing can wind that man up, trust me. Based on our last two interactions, I’m not sure I’ll ever crack that man’s shell.”

Andre shook his head. “Trust me, there’s already a crack.”

With the haze filling my brain, I couldn’t even think of a reply or ask him what the hell he was going on about. Angelo was infuriating, he was cocky, self-assured and patronizing. But he was also the sexiest and most beautiful man I’d ever laid my eyes on.

“Come on,” Andre said, obviously finding my confusion hilarious. “They’re waiting for you in Anthony’s office.”

Andre helped me off the couch and walked closely beside me, his hands at the ready to catch me if my wobbly legs decided to give way from underneath me.

When we entered Uncle Anthony’s office, my eyes were immediately drawn to Angelo. His eyes watching me as he leaned against a far wall, a short glass in his hand with an amber colored liquid inside.

Uncle Anthony’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes warmed as he took me in.

Andre led me to a large brown leather chair with intricate and fancy stitching that looked like it was about one hundred years old.

“You haven’t been looking after yourself,” Uncle Anthony observed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands cupped in front of him. “When’s the last time you ate?”

I pursed my lips and linked my fingers together. Strange that it had only taken this man, who I’d met all of three times in the duration of my life, less than thirty minutes to deduce that I hadn’t been looking after myself. And yet, neither my mother nor my father had commented on my lack of eating or shrinking frame, and I’d been with them since Sophie had died.

Just the thought of food made me screw up my nose. Anything I put in my mouth felt like it was going to come straight back out again. I could actually feel the muscle strength in my arms and legs that I’d spent so long working up with dancing, deteriorating.

“I just want to know what’s going on,” I told him as sternly as possible, ignoring his question.

Uncle Anthony was an intimidating man, and while he’d always been perfectly sweet to Sophie and me the few times we’d met him, I knew he was a man who took no shit.

“Why was that woman outside asking questions about the mafia?”

I felt Angelo’s eyes on my back, burning holes through me. I dug my fingers into the arm of the chair, and in my head prayed that this was all just some crazy mistake, that my uncle wasn’t a member of the mafia. Maybe I could pretend that all these men in suits who looked like they’d stepped out of The Godfather, were just businessmen here for a meeting.

Even in my head, it sounded stupid.

Even after everything that had happened that day, after burying my sister and walking away from my father as he screamed in Italian across the graveyard, I knew that shit was about to get very real.

Uncle Anthony rolled his shoulders and lay his hands on his knees. “Unfortunately, I really can’t tell you what I know you want to hear, Emerson.”

I could feel my body shaking, whether it was with fear or anger, at that stage, I was unsure. “You’re part of the mafia?” I asked, my voice unsteady and unsure.

“It’s complicated—”

“No,” I cut in. “No, it’s not. I don’t care about technicalities or explanations. You and I both know what I’m talking about.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and all it did was make me sit a little taller with annoyance. Uncle Anthony nodded slowly. “I guess the uncomplicated answer would be yes. The DePalma family is part of what we call, La Cosa Nostra.”

I tried to take a deep breath, but his words felt much like a kick in the guts. I licked my lips, wanting to ask the question that was right there on the tip of my tongue, but that I couldn’t quite bear to hear the answer to.

“Yes,” Angelo said, finally speaking up and rounding my chair to stand beside my uncle. He stood there with a blank expression, the only emotion coming off him was one that was totally unapologetic for the bomb he was about to drop on me. “You want to know if Sophie’s death had anything to do with the life we live? Then the answer is yes.”

I instantly felt tears build, and without even thinking I began to shake my head back and forth as though I could somehow deny my way out of this situation.

“Angelo,” Uncle Anthony scolded, hitting him with a dark glare that could have burned a building to the ground. Angelo didn’t falter or even acknowledge him, his eyes were trained on me as if he was just waiting for me to break down and shatter into pieces.

And in all honesty, that was exactly how I felt. My life was suddenly different, altered in a way I could have never anticipated.

“How… Why?” I couldn’t decide what I wanted to know first, or whether I wanted to know anything at all. My mouth was dry, and my head was fuzzy, almost as though clouds were swirling around inside it.

Uncle Anthony sighed deeply. “This was never meant to touch you or Sophie.”

“But it did,” I said loudly, surprising both of the men.

It was strange how easily puzzle pieces could fall into place once the picture started to form. The outline was there, and now it was like suddenly every piece had a place, and the image that was appearing was one I’d never seen coming.

I’d been blindsided.

Was this why Dad had kept us away from the rest of his family?

Was he actually trying to protect us from a world of criminal activity and bloodshed?

Uncle Anthony formed his hands into fists. “You’re right, it did, and I will feel a lifetime of regret for not ending this all when I should have. We live by a code, at least, most of us do. We don’t believe in punishing women and children for the choices that their husbands or fathers may have made.”

My nose tickled and I sniffled. Clearing my throat, I tried to raise my chin a little higher.

“Unfortunately, others do not have the same beliefs, and men like Tobia are weak. They prey on those who can’t fight back, because they know if they come at us head on, then they will be killed.”

A chill had settled over the room, and I shuddered as I felt it brush against my skin. It was strange to hear how easily someone could talk about ending another person’s life. He didn’t even flinch or show any kind of emotion that might indicate he would feel bad about killing another man.

Nothing. Stone cold.

What the hell have I stepped into?

My eyes moved to Angelo, growing wider as I suddenly realized who I was dealing with. Here I was arguing with him, and I really had no idea just how dangerous he really was. I wasn’t totally in the dark, I knew who the mafia were. I knew what they were capable of, and I realized the lengths that people like this went to in order to do business.

Or so I thought.

I could know nothing.

Was The Godfather real life accurate?

I knew I wasn’t dealing with some bad boy who liked to make money by dealing drugs on a street corner. No, I’d just taken a huge step into hell, and the devil was sitting across from me.

“Why?” I whispered, finally finding my voice. I kept telling myself over and over that this man was not here to hurt me—he was family, he wanted to help. It was hard not to cower away. To try and pretend that I hadn’t just realized that my world was about to be upheaved and thrown into disarray.

The questions the woman had yelled at me outside, the way they had stalked us and managed to somehow get inside a place like this that had such heavy guarding, told me that the media had this on their radar.

It was a huge story—famous socialite dies and ties to mafia are discovered.

This was going to be a shitstorm.

“Tobia’s father killed my wife,” Uncle Anthony answered. I heard his voice catch, and it twisted my gut. “He was on a power trip, and when I refused to let him use the DePalma name any longer to continue his tyranny, it made him look weak and like a target.”

My fingers tapped against the leather chair, struggling to keep my breathing calm and passive, but on the inside, I simply wanting to scream out loud.

“Tobia’s father paid for his mistake.” His jaw clenched tightly, and he pushed his shoulders back like a proud soldier. “We let his wife and two children walk away, agreeing that they would not return.”

I could hear in the way his voice softened that he knew he’d screwed up.

Of course, he’d screwed up.

“So Tobia’s father paid for his mistake. Great. Why the hell did we have to pay for yours?” The words were sharp and pointed directly at him. I shook my head. “I thought that Tobia was some crazed fan of Sophie’s. It made sense. When you put yourself in a place where you’re in the world’s eye, you get weirdos and people who are obsessive.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat, my eyes narrowing. “But this was nothing to do with Sophie. It wasn’t anything to do with me or my parents. Yet, I’m the one who has to live without her. And now, everyone will know that we share blood and they will paint her with a dirty brush, make out like because she was related to you that she had it coming.”

My heart rate was rising, and I pushed off the chair and forced myself to stand on shaky legs. “Sophie was beautiful, sweet, a peaceful soul,” I whispered, trying to keep my breathing under control even as a few stray tears dripped down my cheeks. “But that’s not how anyone will remember her now because our blood is tainted with yours.”

Uncle Anthony was out of his chair within milliseconds, and the men that surrounded us were glaring at me like they were trying to kill me with their eyes.

I could practically see the smoke coming out of Angelo’s nostrils like a raging bull. “Emerson,” he warned, his body wound tightly and his voice gravelly and sharp.

I should have been scared of every single man in this room. I should’ve been looking for an exit, hoping that they wouldn’t shoot me in the back as I ran out of it for disrespecting them so badly. But you know what, I didn’t care. Instead, I hit him with a dark glare, refusing to back down and allow this to be passed over like a simple detail. No, this was big, it was fucking huge.

We were part of a family who did God knows freaking what for a living.

Did they run drugs?

Did they kill people and carry out hits?

Did they step on the little people on the way to the top?

I had no idea, but what I did know was that this was going to change things.

Anthony was my uncle.

We shared blood. We were family.

I was no longer just Emerson Rossi—lover of dance, future lawyer, younger sister to Sophie Rossi.

No.

Now I was now Emerson Rossi—mob boss niece.

Fuck.