Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
There is no judgment in his eyes. No condemnation.
“Yes, Father. As soon as I get… settled.”
Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he nods and continues making his rounds in the room.
“Good to see you, Mando.” A sweet feminine voice murmurs at my shoulder.
I turn to take in the practiced beauty of my ex. Her perfect makeup, straightened hair. Big green doe-eyes.
Fucking Grace.
Oddly, I feel nothing. Not rage. Not pain. Not betrayal.
I flatline on any response, so I turn and hit her with full eye contact. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Course I did.” Her fingers tangle and fight each other in front of her waist. She’s in high heels and a blue polka-dot wrap-around that shows off her perfect tits, with a diamond heart necklace dangling above them. A necklace I sure as hell didn’t give her. Ten feet behind her stands Emilio, her new conquest. Or maybe he conquered her—what do I know?
All I know is she didn’t even bother showing up in person to return my engagement ring.
“No. You really didn’t.” I say it pointed-like, and color leeches from her face.
“If you want me to leave, I will,” she whispers, lips trembling.
There was a time seeing those green eyes shining with tears would make me move mountains to comfort her. Now, I feel nothing at her distress. I just shrug. “I don’t give a shit either way, doll.”
I push past her and make my way to the don. His salt and pepper hair has also grown more salty, but he still looks every inch the reigning king. The godfather of the Outfit, if you will.
He’s the only one I have to respect here. The one I owe my loyalty to. The rest of these stronzos can fuck themselves.
Aside from my cousins, no one in this room bothered to visit me during my stay in the pen. Why are they acting like they care now?
“Mando. Sit.” Don Pachino pats the barstool beside him. I’m not sure if I should be offended that he didn’t stand up to embrace me. I drop into the seat and offer my hand. He tucks the cigar between his teeth and squeezes my palm too hard, like he used to when I was a teen. Showing me who’s boss.
Alex, his son-in-law, moves away to give us privacy.
“Care for one?” He slides the cigar box in my direction. I should take it. I should light up and smoke with the don. Show I’m still his trusted lieutenant. Prove my loyalties haven’t changed.
But the smell turns my stomach. “No thanks.” I rub my nose like that will clear the stench. “Too early.”
Marco presses a high-ball glass of Maker’s Mark into my hand and disappears again, slick-like, before I remember to thank him. I throw it back, relishing the burn as it slides down my throat.
“So, you’re out.”
“Si signore. Glad to be back.”
It’s not true. I’m not glad to be anything. Glad isn’t an emotion I’ve known for a very long time. But it’s what I’m supposed to say.
Don Pachino pulls a thick envelope from the inner pocket of his five-thousand-dollar suit and hands it to me. “This is to get you on your feet again.”
I tuck it in the pocket of the jacket Marco brought me when he picked me up. The one that feels so foreign on me, even though it was my favorite.
“Thank you, Don Pachino.”
He takes a puff of the cigar. “I got you a no-work construction job. Pays six grand a month. You’re taken care of, Mando.”
I bow my head, the gratitude I should show not surfacing. I have to fake it. “Thank you. I’m so grateful.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? You’re family, Mando.”
“I appreciate that. So much.” Jesus, I hope my tone doesn’t sound as flat to his ears as it does to mine.
I don’t mean to look, but somehow, I find myself staring across the room at Grace, rubbing her tits over Emilio’s chest.
“You were gone,” Don Pachino says with finality. He’s making it clear where he stands on the issue in case I’m gonna make waves.
I don’t answer because what the fuck am I going to say? Yeah, it’s cool he stole my fucking fiancé while I was doing time like a good soldier. Sorry if I don’t go kiss his cheeks and let him fuck me in the ass some more while he’s at it.
Don Pachino doesn’t take kindly to my silence. His casual air evaporates, and he looks me square in the eye. “There will be no retribution for it. Capisce?”
I only hesitate a moment before I nod. One thing I always respected about Don Pachino—he’s damn clear about his expectations. “Understood.”
“Do not test me on this.”
“I won’t.”
“We’re Family. All of us.” He gestures around the room with his cigar. I wait for him to finish his point, but all he mutters is, “And you were gone.”