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by Peavey Marshall


  "Well, shit!" Callista marched towards them, heels clicking against the pavement. "Hey!"

  "Look, here comes the queen." Delilah crossed her arms. Her burgundy lips set in a snotty smile.

  Callista gritted her teeth. She disregarded her best friend's prying stare. "Do you need anything?"

  "I told Castor how you've been cheating on him." Delilah grinned, clapping her hands in slow motion. "You think having two men in your palm makes you better?" She scoffed, "You're just a cheater.”

  "Wait, your majesty! What do I do with Gallo's company?" Vincent Ferrer shouted behind them. His loud steps resounded in the pavement before he halted at the scene.

  Mallorie let out an audible sigh, whacking his arm. "Ah, shit."

  Delilah's eyebrows wrinkled. Her light blue eyes muddled in confusion. "Is this... Did you...?"

  Caly didn't miss the opportunity for vengeance as Delilah grasp blindly for answers. Stormy eyes glowered at the girl. She crossed her arms. "That's right. I have more than two men in my palm.”

  "That's not—" Vince started to say that Mal had to drag him inside. She waved goodbye at Caly.

  "Then... You did this on purpose?" Delilah's voice quivered. Tears fell from her eyes in crystal drops. "Why?”

  When Callista didn't answer, she stomped forward, right hand ready to strike.

  Castor seized her wrist. His jade eyes sharpened as he thrust her backward.

  Delilah staggered. She shrieked, scrunching her eyes close in frustration as her fists walloped the air. "Why me? What did I ever do to you?"

  Caly lifted an eyebrow. "Nothing. It was just one of those primitive things. What is it called again?" She smacked her crimson lips together. "Ah, that's right. Survival of the fittest.”

  "W-what? You're fucking kidding me!" She shouted, voice hoarse with fatigue.

  Callista tipped her head to the left, a smirk gracing her smug visage. "The strong devour the weak. It's not my fault."

  Delilah clenched her fists. "You know..." She trailed off as she sniffed. "It would've been better if you really liked Franco. But this?" She rubbed at her cheeks, furiously wiping the remnants of tears. "This is cruel, Callista."

  Her glassy eyes pierced through Caly's grey irises. "One of these days, you'll get your karma.”

  Caly rolled her eyes, inspecting her nails despite the ache in her chest. "Good karma, probably." She beamed at the girl. "Au revoir, Miss Gallo."

  Delilah shook her head as she spun on her heels, and Caly dropped her smile. Her focused quickly shifted to her best friend as Castor sauntered to his car. She doubled her steps to reach him. "Cas!"

  He unlocked his Bugatti without sparing her a glance. "What?"

  "Are you angry?"

  Castor halted his movements, meeting Callista's inquiring eyes. "Do I have the right to be angry? No, right?" He leaned over his car. "It's okay, Callista."

  Callista pursed her lips. She drank in Castor's placid expression. "Really?"

  Cas scoffed, repeatedly tossing his car keys on his hand. He flicked the keys at her. "Am I that unhinge? I can keep my jealousy at bay, Callista." His gleaming jade eyes hardened as she caught the keys. "Do I have to remind you that I didn't bother you for three years? Can't I even get credit for that?"

  "It's not like that." She sighed, palms slamming at the car's bumper. "Okay. You're not angry. But I am."

  "Oh?" He arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

  "I've been cursed. I'm allowed to be angry.”

  "And?" Castor scratched at his temple, wanting her to get to the point.

  "Well, you said I can call you if I need you." Callista's lips spread into a smile. She flung the keys back at him. "And I need you."

  Castor clicked his tongue. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, knowing he couldn't decline his best friend's wishes. He disregarded his own tribulations and nodded. "Your wish is my command, your majesty.”

  ~~~~

  Callista couldn't admit it out loud, but Castor was an expert in consoling her. They had gone to an arcade where he beat her at shooting hoops. Though he quickly apologized by conquering the claw machine for her.

  After that, they had gone to a café. He had bought her a frappe and a slice of her favorite apple cinnamon pie. And she had given him his matcha yogurt. They had eaten in silence. Castor reviewed his accounts while she read a book of poems from the café's shelf.

  Callista never felt better.

  She lifted her eyes from the page and looked up. Castor had his glasses on, his attention on a black crinkled book. His brows creased as his right hand tapped on a small calculator.

  Caly placed an elbow on the wooden table, palm against her cheek. "Are you 50% richer?"

  Castor chuckled, removing his glasses. He leaned back and folded his solid arms over his chest. "You know I get richer when people satisfy their vices, right?"

  "Do you like it?" Caly asked, even if she knew what his response would be.

  "As long as it gives me the power to protect the people I love, I'm fine with it."

  She admired that about him. Castor walked his path with certainty and determination. He never stumbled or faltered in his decisions. He was proud of who he is. Like Mallorie. Like Franco.

  Not like her.

  What was she doing?

  Playing with people's feelings? Breaking someone's heart?

  Somewhere in her heart, she hoped Delilah was right. She hoped karma hit her. In that way, maybe she'd stop doing things she doesn't even want to do.

  "Caly." The command in Castor's tone caused her to snap back into reality. He reached for her hand. "Take all the time you need."

  Callista chewed her bottom lip, preventing her imminent smile. He had read her mind in less than a second. How endearing. "Should we go? It's midnight."

  "Sure." He picked up their arcade souvenirs, pulling on his maroon blazer.

  They trudged towards the parking lot when a sudden rain began. Callista cursed as Castor yanked her back towards the cafe's veranda. Caly shook off the drops on her arm, peeling the wet strands of hair that stuck to her face. She glanced at Castor.

  "You're wet!" She exclaimed, getting her handkerchief. She pressed the cloth to his face down to his neck.

  "You're the one who's soaked." Castor nabbed the cloth off her hand, drying her neck and arms. He stripped off his jacket, placing it around the girl's shoulders. "There."

  "Thanks, Cas." Caly smiled at the gesture. "I'm sure the rain will stop soon."

  Castor rolled off his sleeves, displaying his tattooed forearms to Callista's scrutiny. "That's a new one."

  The Luciano heir traced Caly's gaze to his tattoo. An hourglass buried in copious amounts of slithering withered roses. "Yeah. Three weeks."

  Callista didn't sever her stare at his arm. "And?"

  "It means 'time waits for no one'.”

  Caly smirked as she raised her eyes to him. "That's deep."

  "You think I get a tattoo without a meaning?"

  Caly was aware that Castor took a lot of time to design his tattoos. He was meticulous and critical with the art. It was his favorite hobby. She wiggled her eyebrows, resolved to tease the hell out of him. "Really? So, do you have my name somewhere in there?"

  His chest rumbled from the thick laugh he let out. "Huh? Why would I have a tattoo of your name?"

  "Because you love me, of course." The presumptuous smile lit up her pretty face.

  "Okay." Castor started. "You got me."

  Caly's smile fell in utter shock. "What?"

  "You were so sure I would say no?" Castor cackled that Caly pinched his side. He tugged at the hem of his black turtleneck, showing her the area on his right rib.

  The girl frowned, stepping forward to see better. The amber light from the cafe was the only light source, but Caly managed to make out a geometric tattoo. Circles, lines, and dots. "What is it?"

  "A constellation."

  Caly's heart squeezed.

  "Ursa Major," Cas continued. "It's the myth beh
ind your name. You know, the nymph that Zeus fell in love with. She's Artemis' follower, and yes, there were many versions, but she was turned into a bear...”

  The rain dropped in slow motion as Caly listened to Cas' story. She knew the myth. She had heard it a hundred times from him. If there was one thing that Castor read, it's myths.

  Fuck. Callista couldn't breathe. It was supposed to be a joke. She would've laughed if he had gotten a tattoo of her name or shit like the day they met. But no. It was a fucking constellation.

  The girl's throat burned. "When did you get it?"

  Castor straightened his shirt, hands in his pockets. "Five years ago, I think."

  "Why?" she breathed out.

  His green eyes softened like a meadow under a clear blue sky. "You don't know the answer?"

  Callista crashed into Castor's body. She wrapped her arms around his neck. It dawned on her that whatever she did or how much of a failure she was, Castor would love her no less. She felt like the luckiest woman alive.

  His fingers threaded into her hair. He pressed her closer. "What's wrong?"

  Caly pulled away. She shook her head, lifting a finger to trace nonsense figures on the line of his well-defined jaw. "Are you going to keep impressing me like this?"

  He leaned in, his mouth meeting her ear. Castor whispered in a low husky tone. "I know a much more impressive thing."

  She slapped his chest, throwing her head back in laughter. "Please don't tell me that was a double entendre."

  "It's not. You just have a dirty mind." Castor drew her right arm, curling it again around his neck. "Admit it."

  "So what if I do?" Callista grinned. She combed through his midnight locks, shoving it backward. Wet hair and inked muscles also that damned jaw. He was sexy like this. The sudden desire to kiss him sparked in her navel. She moved closer, their lips an inch apart.

  Then, Caly sneezed.

  She concealed her face on his shoulder. "Shit. Sorry.”

  Castor chuckled, caressing her back. "Let's get you home."

  ***

  CHAPTER 20

  Callista Genovese put on her hoop earrings. Her ponytail swished as she jogged down the stairs in her Nikes. She adjusted her Hermes mini bag and headed straight to the door when Caesar Genovese called for her.

  "Where are you going?" he asked. His gaze narrowed at her outfit. "Is there another party?"

  "No." Caly crossed her arms. She didn't like her father's patronizing tone. "I'm going to hang out with Mal. If there's nothing—"

  "Caly, we need to talk." The older man inhaled deeply, hiding his hands in the pocket of his iron pressed trousers. His stony glower caused Callista to stand straight. "There's the second phase of my plan. You see... marriage is still the answer.”

  Caly's arms went limp to her sides. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Callista gritted her teeth and turned back. "I'm not interested."

  "Callista, sit down!" His gruff voice thundered in the empty foyer.

  Caly whirled to him rapidly that she almost stumbled. "No! Not again, Dad! Don't you dare use me!"

  "Franco and Castor," he started. "I know you like them.”

  The girl's fingers quivered in despair. Her throat tightened as she kept her emotions at bay. "Dad, are you fucking serious?"

  "My term is ending after two months."

  Her heart clenched at his revelation. "What? But—"

  "Mayor Johnson raised his concerns and proposed a new system. He told them if I couldn't take care of my own daughter, how can I watch over New York?"

  "So, it's my fault!"

  "Nobody is saying that." Caesar massaged his temples, lips curling into a rueful smile. "I knew it was going to end this way. When I gave up my men to become a governor, I knew."

  "Then, why did you?" Callista's voice was softer this time. Seeing the tired lines on her father's face reminded her of her sin. Fatigue wrapped his body as a hand flattened his hair.

  "What do you think?" Her father dared to smirk. Caly often forgot that her father was and would always be mafia material. "I was cocky. I thought everyone would be satisfied with what they have. But no, they all desired to be on top. And yet, I don't want to admit defeat." He looked at her with a glint of challenge. "This is my last chance, Callista.”

  Caly scoffed, wetting her lips. "Oh? So you want to prove that your ideas are right?"

  "Caly." His warning tone made the girl cackle in mock laughter.

  "Dad! Can't you hear yourself? You want to sacrifice me!" she screamed. Her eyes watered, but she brushed it as fast as it came. "What does it matter if you were wrong?"

  "I'm preventing a catastrophe here, goddamn it!" he shouted, eyes blown wide. Caesar Genovese ran a hand over his weary face. He faced his daughter again. "If I step down, do you know how they will interpret it?”

  Weak.

  Caly let her tears fall. "You're manipulative right now, Dad. But you know what hurts me the most?" she asked, raising her head to prevent more tears. She bit her lip, voice quaking. "I will still do it. Because you have a point and you are my father. I'll always choose your side.”

  She wiped her tears, folding her arms together. "So, fine. Let's play this game.”

  "Caly..." he whispered.

  Callista shook her head, smiling bitterly despite the tears. "But I want you to remember this, Dad." She stomped forward, locking their identical eyes together. "If this path leads me to misery, I'll never forgive you."

  Caly trudged back to her room. She buried her grief-stricken face on her bedsheets, muffling her cries of anguish.

  It's true what they say. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

  ~~~~

  The warm bubble bath and scent of roses held Callista enthralled. Eula, her maid, had to knock on the bathroom door repeatedly.

  "Miss Caly, the guests are here." Her soft voice called.

  She flicked her eyes open. "What a drag."

  She stepped out of her bath and into the dress that Eula had prepared for her. A black sleeveless chiffon bodice and Celine's silver sequin skirt. She preferred to choose her outfits, but she wasn't in the mood after what happened earlier. So Eula did everything for her.

  Callista sat in front of her dresser as the maid brushed her messy tresses. She grabbed the newest shade of lipstick she had bought from RMS beauty.

  "Wild with desire? How appropriate." She applied the product, shaping her perfect lips. Caly caught sight of her cross necklace in the mirror. She hoped it would give her the strength she needed.

  The girl thanked Eula and went downstairs. She halted on her third step when the five men looked up at her arrival. Her dad nodded in approval while Nicholas Luciano smiled gently. On the other hand, his son scrutinized her from head to toe, arching an eyebrow as their eyes met.

 

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