Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(76)

“Had a run in with Carmine Gallucci earlier—he said some things. I was curious.”

It was at that moment that Kaz’s phone rang. He already had a good idea as to who it was.

“One day, you’re going to go too far,” Ruslan warned. “Who the hell is going to save your ass when Vasily decides to teach you a lesson?”

Digging his phone out, Kaz smiled absently. “Let’s hope we never have to find out—Kaz.”

“You know,” Vasily began, sounding rather thoughtful, “when I asked Irina to bear my children, you were not what I hoped for.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Kaz said in return, already heading for his car, knowing what Vasily would tell him. “How about we skip the ‘I don’t know why you’re calling,’ discussion? Yes, I had a run in with Carmine Gallucci, and considering you’re not yelling, you know that he wasn’t hurt too bad—his pride, maybe. So really, what’s there to discuss?”

Kaz slipped behind the wheel, and as he switched the call over to the Bluetooth radio, his phone buzzed again, this time with a text.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Vasily asked. “Is that what this is about? I don’t understand. I’ve given you everything you could have ever wanted. Money, the best schools, the best cars … and yet you never do the simplest of things that I ask.”

“What was that?” Kaz had only been half paying attention to his father as he unlocked his phone, opening up the message.

“Kazimir!” Vasily snapped, that last little thread he had on his control breaking. “Stay the f*ck away from the Galluccis. How many times must I say this?”

The image took a while to load, but when it did, Kaz grinned slowly. There was no face, just the curve of a shoulder, pale skin, and the mottled bite mark he had left some days ago. He was intrigued as to why she sent it.

Whether it was meant as a reminder that he needed to be careful as to where he left his mark, or whether it was an invitation.

He chose to go with the latter.

“I’ll be in there in fifteen,” Kaz said to his father, even as he typed a message to Violet. “And yeah, you have my word. I’ll stay clear of Carmine Gallucci.”

But not Violet. Never Violet.





The clink of a spoon hitting china lightly made Violet look up from the textbook she had spread out on the table. She found her father watching her from the other side of the large kitchen, still stirring the cup on the counter. With a smile, Alberto picked the cup up and brought it over to where his daughter was seated, pushing it across the table as he took a seat.

Violet picked up the Chai tea for a sip, and smiled approvingly. Her father wasn’t the type to prepare someone else’s food or drinks. He had people do that for him, and for others around him. But he had learned a while ago how to make Chai tea just the way Violet liked as a way to soften her up before a chat.

She had caught onto his games over the years.

But she still appreciated the effort.

“It’s good,” she mumbled around the rim.

Alberto shrugged. “As long as you like it, dolcezza.”

Violet put the cup back to the table, flipping another page over in her textbook. With her father, it was better to let him open up the discussion, rather than coming right out and asking him what he was thinking about.

“How is school?” Alberto asked.

No better time than the present, she thought.

Her father had all but demanded she stay for supper long after his guests were gone, and even after Carmine had left. Her mother had taken to her studio office, leaving the father and daughter alone. Still, he asked her to stay, and she did.

“Actually …” Violet trailed off, frowning.

Alberto matched the expression. “What?”

“I’m flunking two of my classes. And at this rate, I might as well just add another year—or a semester, if I’m being kind—onto my Bachelor of Art degree.”

Her father’s expression barely changed at all. Violet was surprised. She expected him to be angry—disappointed, even.

But, no.

Nothing.

Alberto tapped a single finger to the table. “Is college not what you want to do?”

“It is,” she responded fast.

“Then why aren’t you keeping up? You’re not a stupid girl, Violet. You graduated top ten in your high school. What is so different about Columbia that you’re struggling?”

Violet sighed. “It’s a lot of things, Daddy.”

“Try me.”

Her phone buzzed with a text, and her gaze shot down to where her purse rested beside her chair. Still, she didn’t reach for the bag to grab it. Her father surely wouldn’t appreciate that at the moment, and he was being particularly kind about her bad grades as it was.

“Okay, here’s one,” Violet said, “today I didn’t even get to finish my classes, and I had a presentation due for my last class that was meant to give me extra credit. I’ve been working on it for a week. That is one of the classes I’m failing.”

Alberto nodded. “All right. Fair enough. I’m sorry.”

Violet waved around her, high above her head. “And there’s all this stuff going on, it seems. No one wants to talk about it, but I’m not an idiot, Daddy. I can see what’s happening, okay? It’s distracting when I’m brought into it or it takes me out of focusing on school.”