‘Your father built his entire livelihood and his family on the money I gave him for that diner. Gracewell’s might be the culmination of Mickey’s life’s work, but it sits on my trade—’
‘No,’ I spat. ‘Stop!’ I was tired of being swayed this way and that by people with corrupt morals and pretty words. I was tired of hearing people out, of giving the benefit of the doubt only to have it thrown back in my face. This was not what I had come here for, to be leered at by Donata and her cronies, to be lied to by my uncle, to be terrified by the idea that I was tied to him, that someone like him was my anchor.
I turned from him, scanning the exit. Sara was looking at me. The man with the sharp grin was still hovering close by, watching her now. A shiver of unease shot up my spine. She dipped her head and smiled sympathetically. Did she have an overprotective uncle too? Had she been forced into this life the same way the Falcones were raised to be one thing and one thing only? Was she as ashamed of her family as I was? We were the same age, more or less. But she was here now, stuck, and I was determined not to be.
Jack stepped between us and brought his face close to mine. Our eyes – the same eyes – bored into one another. ‘Sophie, we’re family, you and I, and I want you by my side, where I know you’ll be safe. It’s where you belong.’
I blanched. ‘I have a mother,’ I snapped. ‘A mother you almost got killed, and believe me, I’m not about to forget it.’ Anger mounted, rushing and sizzling inside me. ‘I came here to hear you out, but it was a mistake. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m glad my father doesn’t have to grieve for his little brother in prison, but I don’t want anything to do with you. Not now, not ever. I’m saying goodbye. For good.’
I stepped back, but he stepped with me. His cheeks had flushed a rosy hue. ‘Sophie,’ he said, surprisingly gentle, yet intimidating. He was teetering on the edge of something, his eyes flicking from side to side, to Donata, to his cronies. ‘There is no way out now.’
I lifted my chin, steel staring into steel. ‘There is for me, Jack. You might have forged your allegiance,’ I gestured pointedly to Donata, then swirled my hand around, encompassing the club, its hedonism and all the wrongness, ‘but I stand with my mother, and only her.’
A veil of anger snapped Jack’s features back into place. ‘Only her?’ he asked, his eyes slitting. ‘And what about the Falcones?’ He spat the word.
There was an Italian curse from somewhere over his shoulder. Donata.
‘I have nothing to do with the Falcones,’ I insisted.
Jack arched an eyebrow. ‘I was in that warehouse, Sophie. You’re the key to their undoing; you’re the answer to my freedom. And with the Marinos, we’ll be able to do it.’ His voice climbed in pitch and his eyes were manic, darting. ‘We’ll finally be able to rid Chicago of this festering wound of self-righteous fools. Mark them for every mark they put on you. We’ll hang Valentino in his chair. We’ll drown Felice in his own honey. We’ll take Luca Falcone’s head from his body.’
My stomach seized up and I clasped my hand over my mouth. So he wanted the war. He was orchestrating it.
I swirled around, scanning the numbers – the sheer amount of Marino family milling around us. They mightn’t have been ready before, when the truce had come down, but they were ready now. Were the missing Marino twins here, too? Baying for revenge, all of them united in hatred?
Donata was laughing – it was a high-pitched screech of pleasure. I hated her. I hated her. I hated her. And I felt sick, so sick I couldn’t stand another minute in their presence.
‘I’m leaving.’ I turned. ‘This was a mistake.’
I pushed by the bouncer and marched on to the main floor. But I was stopped again, this time by Sara. I almost crashed into her. She raised her hands. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Please.’
‘I thought he cared about me, but he doesn’t. I’m just a pawn.’ I stifled the urge to cry, swallowing hard against the rising lump in my throat. ‘I want to go home, Sara.’
‘I know,’ she said, tugging me to the side so all those hovering behind us couldn’t overhear our conversation. Even Razor Grin was out of earshot, and he wasn’t happy about it. ‘But this isn’t the way to make it happen. She won’t let you leave if she thinks you won’t even contemplate helping her.’
I glanced over my shoulder. Donata was poised on the edge of her dance floor, watching us. ‘What would you have me do, then?’
Sara’s sigh hung in the air. ‘Just agree to whatever she wants.’
‘Are you crazy?’
She edged closer so even her fuchsia lips couldn’t be read when she spoke. ‘I’m not telling you to tell the truth, just say you’ll think about it or whatever. My mother doesn’t like the word “no”. You’re not going to walk out of here smiling if you don’t at least pretend to give her the respect she thinks she deserves.’