Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(74)

“It could have been worse,” came someone else’s opinion.

Violet’s brow furrowed as she took the random statements in. What exactly had happened that would cause enough of a fuss for her father to call his men to his home, not to mention her?

Passing by the entertainment room, Violet saw her friends—old friends—chatting to one another in a corner. Amelia and Nicole barely noticed her as she stopped to at least acknowledge their presences. In two weeks, they had said less than a few words to her in passing, and that was only if they had no other choice.

No calls. No messages.

No dinners or time at the clubs on the weekends.

Kaz had been right, in a way. Her friends weren’t very real at all when it came right down to it. They blamed her entirely for a situation that had been caused by all three of their choices, not just hers.

But she didn’t really care.

Better to move on, and let it go.

Dwelling on it wouldn’t do her any damn good. Amelia and Nicole probably figured she would eventually make her way back into the folds with an apology and a willing acceptance to take all the blame.

Violet was done with those games.

Entirely.

They were not in high school anymore, and she refused to indulge their desire to act like they were.

Finally, Violet found at least one person she was looking for. Her father was in his favorite spot—his office. Leaning over his desk with palms pressed to the top and his knuckles white from the pressure, Alberto looked fit to have a spell. Her father was not a small man by any means. His larger size dominated the room in presence alone, and he often came off as intimidating to others who didn’t know him well.

But she knew him.

And right then, while Alberto looked angry, she could see his worry—his panic.

Alberto nodded to a man at his side—Vito, Amelia’s father, and his underboss—when Vito said something too low for the rest to hear. Across from his desk, Carmine stood with his arms crossed and a deep scowl etched on his face.

“You can’t just let it go unanswered,” Carmine said.

“I can do whatever I want to,” Alberto snapped right back. He stood straight, brushing Vito off when the man tried to calm the situation down. “And you—what did you do in all of this to cause a scene like that?”

Carmine opened his mouth to speak, but Alberto held a hand high, stopping him.

“Do not lie to me, son,” her father warned. “I will know you did. Do you think your men—those enforcers—are so loyal to you that they forget which hand has fed them for years? Don’t. Lie.”

“I might have knocked him a little as I passed him by in the hallway,” Carmine said, “but that doesn’t justify Kazimir’s response, boss.”

Alberto’s gaze narrowed. “Men of honor hold themselves to a far higher standard than games of that sort, Carmine. And you, as a Capo, are well aware of that. Since when have I ever accepted childish taunting and antics between my men to encourage tensions, huh? When? Answer me.”

“You don’t.”

“I don’t,” Alberto repeated, spitting the words out.

Violet was still trying to catch up to what she was hearing. But she understood enough. Clearly, Carmine and Kaz had a run in at some point over the day, and it did not end well.

“And now,” Alberto continued, “I have men in an uproar because this is the second issue in the span of a month with the Russians.”

“We could … finish them off,” Vito suggested quietly.

“What for?” Alberto asked. “And to whose gain?”

Violet figured she should probably make herself known or scarce, but she found her feet were like cement stuck to the floor.

When Vito didn’t respond, Alberto turned back on Carmine.

“I know you’re … sensitive … over the events from a couple of weeks ago,” Alberto said, “but that was a choice made by me, not the Russians. And if you want someone to take your anger out on, you are more than welcome to meet me behind a closed door where we will discuss my choices as a boss and his capo and nothing more. Stay away from the Russians, Carmine. And stay the f*ck away from that restaurant, regardless of the business you have with Alfred Shelby.”

Carmine straightened a bit more, glared at his father and tipping his chin up. Alberto almost mimicked the pose perfectly, and it struck Violet in that moment how similar her brother and father really were.

“Are you scared of the Russians?” Carmine asked, deadly calm. “Is that it, boss?”

Alberto didn’t even blink. “I have no need to be, and you will not make a reason for me. Is that understood?”

Just as quickly as her brother’s defiance had shown itself, it left. Carmine gave one nod, and then moved toward the door, but stopped in his step as he saw her standing there.

Alberto noticed her then, too.

“Violet,” her father said, his tone turning much softer than it had been.

Almost … relieved.

“I didn’t know we were having a party … or whatever,” Violet said, pointedly looking around at the men in Alberto’s office.

Alberto waved it off. “Nonsense. No party. I just wanted to have you come over, see your face. I worry.”

Oh.

Violet understood, then.