Scars and Sins (Brooklyn Brothers Book 2)

by Melanie Munton

  “Yeah, I know. Mine, too.” Her voice had turned forlorn. “The whole thing is so ridiculous. Just because the two of them can’t get along shouldn’t mean that we can’t speak to each other.”

  I didn’t bother responding because we both knew the score. There was no changing anything if Vinnie D’Angelo and Enzo Rossetti had made up their minds.

  “But hey,” she said, tipping her glass up to her red lips, “what’s the point in being young if we can’t make reckless, irresponsible decisions that drive our fathers crazy?”

  “Oh, I’ll drink to that.” I raised my glass in a toast. “And they don’t think they drive us equally as crazy?”

  She scoffed. “Tell me about it. Mom and Dad are both still hell-bent on me becoming a lawyer.”

  I squeezed her hand in support. I couldn’t imagine being coerced into doing something I hated. “Have you thought about talking to them?”

  She stared down at the table, appearing lost in her thoughts. “I’ve tried many times. They don’t listen. I want a place of my own, but I need money first. And with my class schedule and homework load, I don’t have time for a job. So, until I can save up a little cash, I’m forced to live with them, which means I have to live by their rules.”

  “Why don’t you go live with Ace or one of your other brothers?”

  I hoped she didn’t notice how my voice had lowered when I said his name.

  “I don’t want to be a burden to them. They’re all living their own lives, and I’d just be in the way. Especially when they have girls over. The biggest turn-off in the world is finding out a guy’s sister sleeps in the bedroom down the hall from where you want to have sex with him.” She visibly shuddered.

  I giggled even as my heart clenched. “Fair enough.”

  I didn’t want to think about how many girls Ace had taken back to his place over the years. Which didn’t make any sense. Nothing had happened between us except a little grinding. His past relationships shouldn’t have bothered me.

  I was still going to pretend they’d never happened, though.

  It made it worse that my limited experience consisted of clumsy fondling with horny college boys and one ill-conceived attempt at drunken sex.

  Ace wouldn’t make it bad. Or embarrassing.

  No, he would make it memorable.

  Too memorable.

  Most likely, he’d ruin me for all other men, thus destroying my chances of ever getting over him. If we actually had sex, I would compare all men in my future to Ace. I knew I would. Hell, I did that now and we hadn’t so much as kissed.

  “Do you still play?” she asked, nodding up at the keyboard on the stage where the live music was played.

  “Yeah, whenever I have time.” Which wasn’t often. “I figure playing the piano is a healthier stress reliever than taking up drinking or popping muscle relaxers.”

  She laughed.

  The sound sent me back to a time when we had nothing more serious to worry about than when we were finally going to get our periods. Those were the days when we used to sprawl out on her bedroom floor, surrounded by giant pillows and cozy blankets and write songs together. She’d write the lyrics, I’d write the music, and then I’d play it on my small keyboard while Gia sang her little heart out.

  I missed those days so badly my eyes stung with unshed tears.

  Ugh. I always got emotional when I drank.

  “I’ve written a lot of lyrics over the years,” she said pointedly. “Most of them still need music.”

  I smiled conspiratorially. “Funny, because I’ve written a lot of melodies that are in need of pretty words.” My smile faded as I recalled how miserable she’d sounded when talking about her classes. “What happened to that, anyway? I thought you were going to start your music career the second you were old enough to get into all the bars and clubs. Now, you’re pre-law?”

  Her hazel eyes took on a mischievous quality. “I’m so glad you brought that up.”

  She drained the rest of her whiskey and winked at me. Without another word, she walked right up onto the stage and approached the microphone.

  What the hell is she doing?

  “How’s everyone doing tonight?” Her husky voice came over the speakers and echoed throughout the room.

  A few whistles and catcalls came from the crowd.

  “My name is Izzy,” she said, “and I’m going to be doing some stand-up comedy for you this evening.”

  Izzy must have been the stage name she’d chosen. Her choice struck a deep chord with me—Izzy was the nickname I’d given her when we were eleven, taken from her middle name, Isabella.

  “Just kidding, I’m going to sing,” she teased.

  Laughter rang out from the crowd.

  She flashed a saucy smile, already working the room.

  Gia was always confident and sassy in her everyday life, but when she sang, her confidence went through the roof. No one could touch her when she had that mic in her hands. And I had no doubt that most of the men in this bar wanted to touch her. I was as straight a girl as they came, but even I could admit Gia was a sexy little vixen up there in her painted-on leather pants and silver sequined top. Her shiny raven hair—the same dark shade as Ace’s—was shoulder-length and layered. She even had a small beauty mark above her lip, much like Cindy Crawford’s.

  Yeah, she definitely had the attention of every male in the room.

  I snickered to myself.

  Just wait until they hear her sing.

  All the dudes in this place were going to lose their flipping minds.

  She turned and grabbed the guitar that was propped up on a stand behind her. “So, they told me Billie Eilish was supposed to sing tonight,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “but they carded her at the door and told her to come back in three years.”

  I laughed along with the rest of the audience.

  “Naturally, I was their second choice.”

  More chuckles.

  “All right, that’s all the jokes I got.” She started strumming a few notes as she spoke. “I’m going to start off with a cover I think most of you will probably be familiar with. And if you’re all good to me, maybe I’ll follow it up with an original of mine called ‘Stampede.’”

  There were a few shouts and claps of approval.

  Then everything went dead silent when her raspy voice filled the room.

  Holy wow.

  Her voice had matured over the years. Lowered. She had more control over it now than she used to.

  And it sounded uh-mazing.

  The cover was of “Zombie” by The Cranberries with her own spin on it. And damn, she was belting it out. Completely lost in her own world, her eyes closed, her fingers manipulating the guitar strings as if the instrument was an extension of her. I glanced around the room to see the entire crowd enraptured by the woman onstage. Some were nodding their heads or tapping their feet. Others were smiling, and others were just sitting there wide-eyed.

  Instead of pausing after finishing the song, she seamlessly switched from one melody to the next and went right into her original song. Listening to the lyrics of “Stampede,” I felt my heart crack wide open for her. Her inner pain came out with every word, sending a clear message.

  I wanna stampede through life.

  Don’t wanna die before I fly.

  Sick of going slow, sick of hearing no.

  Wanna sing instead of cry.

  So I’m gonna fight with all my might.

  I’m gonna stampede through life.

  But at the same time, I was so damn proud of her.

  Her parents were pushing her down a path she didn’t want to go, and she was fighting it. They’d been supportive of her music when she was younger, but they’d always viewed it as a hobby. In the minds of Val and Enzo Rossetti, only a small portion of musicians actually made it big, and they didn’t want Gia to waste too much of her life pursuing a lost cause. Not that they didn’t believe in her. Everyone knew she could sing her ass off. T
he evidence was right in front of us. They just wanted all their children to be financially self-sufficient because they had struggled so much with that in their younger years.

  I even understood their way of thinking. They were trying to teach her to be pragmatic, rather than living her life with her head in the clouds.

  But you didn’t have to be a vocal coach or music producer to know that Gia had the right stuff to make it big.

  She could become famous. I had no doubt about it.

  By the time the last note reverberated from her guitar strings, the entire crowd was on its feet. The applause was so loud, you could barely hear her voice over the speakers thanking everyone. And I was by far the loudest, most spastic one. From my table right in front of the stage, I jumped to my feet and screamed until my voice was hoarse, “That’s my best friend!”

  I teetered in my wedges, having to grab my chair to steady myself.

  Well. Those mystery cocktails aren’t so mysterious anymore.

  Gia blushed onstage. Covering her ginormous smile with her hand, she took her bow and drew another round of cheers. Of course, that sent me bouncing up and down again. Not the best idea when my head was starting to spin.

  I wrapped her up in a tight hug when she eventually stepped off the stage. We both laughed hysterically like a couple of cracked-out hyenas.

  “Oh, my God, you were amazing!” I yelled. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

  Her cheeks were flushed red, her eyes sparkling. I don’t think I’d ever seen so much joy on her face before. “Thanks. I kind of can’t either. But damn, what a rush.”

  I faced the crowd, most of whom were still clapping, and shouted, “She’s my best friend!”

  They erupted in cheers all over again.

  Then my gaze locked onto one particular table in the back. Four men stood menacingly around it, all wearing matching expressions of disapproval.

  Holy. Shit.

  Not them.

  Surely, I was imagining it, right?

  What the hell is in those cocktails?

  I think we both saw them at the same time because Gia’s entire body froze.

  “What are they doing here?” she whispered, sounding panicked. “They weren’t supposed to be here tonight. No one knows about this but you.”

  Then a figure suddenly burst through the crowd, barreling straight toward us.

  I took an automatic step back at seeing Ace’s furious expression.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  He wasn’t looking at his sister when he said it, though.

  He was looking at me.

  “There is absolutely no way in hell I’m letting you host my bachelor party in fucking Amsterdam,” Cris growled at Nico from across our table at O’Malley’s.

  Nico rolled his eyes. “Why not? I thought Jasmine pulled that stick out of your ass. I guess there’s still some splinters wedged up in there, huh?”

  “Why?” Cris drawled sarcastically. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because the last time you were in Amsterdam you got arrested for impersonating some rich Belgian dude and partying on his yacht.”

  Nico waved him off. “That was just a language barrier misunderstanding. He doesn’t hold a grudge. We even Snapchat each other now.”

  Cris continued to glare. “I’m not getting arrested or stranded in a foreign country right before my wedding. Think of something else. And no international trips.”

  I watched the argument in amusement, while Luka and Rome scoped out the bar scene, talking quietly to each other.

  We hadn’t all hung out like this in a while.

  I had to admit I’d missed it.

  Nico was always out of town on business. Lovesick Cris had Jasmine these days and was completely preoccupied with her and the wedding plans. Luka and I had both been working longer hours lately, and Rome was just Rome. When we didn’t see him for days at a time, you didn’t always know if it was because he was working or because he was doing his own form of stress relief. Only Luka really knew what went on inside his twin’s mind.

  The urge to text Roxy had been itching at me all night.

  But based on how we’d left things on the subway the other night, I figured it wouldn’t be wise to reveal that yes, I had her number, and no, I wasn’t willing to share how I’d gotten it.

  Alcohol had a way of mucking up sensibility, though.

  Therefore, the four beers and two shots I’d had were to blame for why I reached into my pocket for my phone.

  Just as my fingers closed over the device, a familiar voice rang out from the speakers on the stage. All five of us snapped around in unison, our movements fueled by shock.

  “How’s everyone doing tonight?” Gia asked the audience.

  “What in Christ’s name is she doing up there?” Luka demanded, his brawler body poised to spring up and charge in her direction.

  “What the hell’s going on, Ace?” Cris asked without taking his eyes off our sister.

  I slowly shook my head as she spoke into the microphone before slinging a guitar strap over her shoulder. “I have no idea.”

  Which kind of pissed me off.

  And if I was being completely honest, it hurt a little.

  Because even though we were all her big brothers, I had the closest relationship with Gia. I was only three years older than her, so we’d been tight all our lives. Just like Cris and Nico were and just like the twins were.

  But she’d never told me about this.

  I had to assume it was because she knew exactly how I would react. How we all would, most especially Mom and Dad.

  Then she started to sing.

  And we all shut up.

  We’d grown up hearing her sing, but none of us had actually seen her perform.

  This was…unreal.

  In a good way. I mean, Gia was really good.

  We all unconsciously leaned forward in our chairs, intently listening to every note she crooned out. I think it was a moment that forced us all to accept just how much she’d grown up in the last few years. She looked and sounded nothing like the little sister we’d become accustomed to putting up with. She was commanding the room’s attention with her voice and guitar with all the experience of a professional.

  How long had she been doing this? Secretly performing behind everyone’s backs? Behind my back? I was going to find out.

  But for those few minutes, I sat back and enjoyed watching my sister bloom before my very eyes.

  The pride I felt was nearly overwhelming.

  I had to respect her decision for doing what she felt she had to do. She knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve of her veering off the lawyer path, and she knew I wouldn’t approve of her lying to our parents. But she’d taken a risk and done it, anyway. She was being brave enough to follow her heart.

  A heart that would forever belong to music.

  I get it now.

  That was pure joy stamped on her face as she sang. God knew she didn’t look like that when she talked about law. I glanced over at my brothers to see matching proud expressions on their faces. No doubt they were as pissed as I was and had every intention of lecturing her after she was done. But that didn’t take away from our adoration.

  Uproarious applause broke out when she finished, sending the crowd shooting to its feet.

  The five of us stood and joined in on the cheering because she damn well deserved it. We all shared grins, knowing we were going to kick her ass, right after we showered her with hugs and praises.

  Then I saw her.

  Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.

  Roxy was jumping and clapping excitedly near a table right in front of the stage. After Gia stepped down, Roxy pulled her in for a hug and shouted to the crowd, “She’s my best friend!” I could tell from her rosy cheeks that she’d had a couple of drinks.

  And…Jesus Christ.

  The shorts she was wearing hugged her ass so tight I could practically see the dimples on her cheeks through the material.


  I knew I wasn’t the only one noticing either.

  The crowd was still applauding Gia, who had garnered a lot of male attention. But as their gazes followed her off the stage, I saw that attention also shift to Roxy. With interest.

  My plans abruptly changed.

  Gia’s lecture could wait. She had four other brothers waiting to give her an earful. I could catch up with her later.

  Right now, I needed to get Roxy the hell out of here.

  My brothers had probably already seen her, but I’d deal with them later, too. I couldn’t think straight enough to properly explain the situation to them, anyway.

  I stormed over. Roxy noticed me right before I reached them. It bothered me when I couldn’t tell if that was fear or excitement in her eyes.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I barked.

  Their doe-eyed expressions would have been comical if the scene weren’t so infuriating. Both of them had hidden things from me, in different ways. Gia hadn’t let me in on how she was spending her evenings, and Roxy hadn’t informed me of how much time she’d been spending in Brooklyn outside of work.

  How long had they been hanging out like this? When had they even rekindled their friendship?

  And Roxy had the nerve to tell me that she and I shouldn’t be seen together?

  I’m sorry, do Gia and I not bear the same last name?

  The Gabbianos were in town, for Christ’s sake. They had more than enough reasons for wanting payback against us. They could have had people watching our family, trying to gather any information they could use against us. That might sound paranoid, but that was the mafia world. That was how things worked.

  They could have even had people watching Roxy. Between the Gabbianos and the Niners who were out for mafia blood, danger was lurking around every corner for her.

  And she didn’t even know.

  “What are you doing here?” Gia asked in a fearful voice.

  I pointed first at her. “You, I’ll be speaking to later.” I jabbed my thumb behind me toward our brothers. “But they’ll be speaking to you now.” Then I turned to Roxy. “You, come with me.”

  Her nervous gulp would have been audible if there wasn’t so much noise in the bar. But I didn’t give her the chance to respond before snagging her arm up and heading for the door.