The Sweetest Oblivion (Made, #1)(57)

“He’s lying,” I blurted.

Angry male eyes shot to me.

I swallowed, giving Nicolas a glance, but he still seemed to be a mile away.

Uncle Marco shook his head. “No, I’m not. We’re not going to kill him, Adriana. I promise.”

The glint of hope in her eyes grew a tiny bit more.

Panic flooded me. I knew that look in Benito’s gaze, in my brother’s.

Lie. It’s all a lie.

“They’re lying, Adriana,” I urged. “Don’t believe them.”

My pulse leapt into my throat as the back of Manuel’s hand came toward my face. I flinched, expecting the blow. When only a brush of air touched my cheek, I opened my eyes to see Nicolas’s hand wrapped around my uncle’s wrist.

“Hit a woman in front of me and you won’t be alive to do it again,” Nico growled.

Seconds passed before Manuel ripped himself from Nico’s grip and took a step back, his face red with disdain.

Papà watched the exchange with neutrality, but something close to displeasure played behind his eyes when he looked at Nico. My papà had never hit me—his distaste was for another reason than Nicolas stepping in, but I wasn’t sure what.

My mamma’s brothers had always been mean, except Marco. He was gentle, reserved, but at the slightest infraction, he was nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing on the hunt.

“Elena,” Papà barked. “Leave.”

I had never stood up to my papà before. However, I knew my sister; she was tough but gullible. She wanted to believe in her fairy-tale, so she would. And it would be the death of her prince.

I didn’t move.

“Elena.” My papà’s tone was colder than the Arctic and tinged with disbelief.

I was pulled by the desire to listen, yet my feet were frozen to the floor. I now stood on cheap apartment carpet, watching a similar scene play out before my eyes.

Papà flicked a gaze to Tony, who, with a look of contrition, came around the couch to me.

“I’m not leaving,” I protested.

“Come on, Elena. Let’s go.” Tony reached for my wrist, but I jerked it away. He sighed, before wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me.

“Adriana, don’t do it,” I pleaded as Tony half carried me, half walked me with one arm to the door. “I promise you they’re lying.”

I knew the kind of guilt this carried around—let alone the heartbreak—and I couldn’t allow Adriana to live with the same.

Once my feet were in the hall, Tony shut the door, leaving me alone on the other side. I let out a noise of frustration, before smacking the wood with my palm. Sliding down the door with my thighs pressed to my chest, I listened to their voices seep through the cracks.

I waited and waited for the name Ryan to escape my sister’s lips.

It never did.





A clock ticked. Ice clinked in a tumbler glass. Cigar smoke hung in the air. And a certain distaste emanated from Salvatore sitting behind his desk.

I occupied a chair in front of it, leaning back with one elbow on the armrest. I was pretty sure he hated the way I sat like I was bored, so I’d continued to sit that way.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been in his office, remaining silent, while Salvatore smoked his cigar, but something was building, and it wasn’t from me. Truthfully, I enjoyed the atmosphere. I could survive on tense, awkward silences alone.

“You can’t have her.” The words cut the quiet like a knife through the air.

My gaze found Salvatore’s through a haze of smoke. “I didn’t say I wanted her.”

He let out a sardonic breath, shaking his head. “Cut the shit, Ace. I know you want Elena, and she’s not on the table.”

My jaw ticked. I did not like being told what I couldn’t fucking have. “I don’t think you get to tell me what’s on the table, Salvatore. You fucked me over.”

Technically, his daughter fucked someone, but it was the same thing in our eyes. He’d breached the contract.

Salvatore puffed on his cigar one last time, before contemplatively putting it out. “Elena isn’t a possibility, even if I wanted to give her to you.” His gaze came to me, showing me that he didn’t. “She’s engaged.”

I stared at him with indifference, while my chest twisted with aversion before going cold enough to burn.

I’d thought a lot about this situation, what I could get out of Salvatore for breaking the contract, what I wanted the most. It started with an E and had long black hair. It was also my vice.

I wanted it, but I couldn’t let myself have it.

Nonetheless, now that I knew she belonged to another man, something violent spread through my veins like an internal case of frostbite.

My irrational side began speaking for me. “Contract signed?”

Salvatore nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

I watched him closely. I bet after that little incident with the pool and me shoving Elena into it, he’d locked that man’s signature right down.

I had nothing against Salvatore, but there was something about sharing the same title with a man close to half his age he didn’t like. And I was fucking richer than him. He didn’t like how far my reputation stretched, and the details of said reputation. But after today, he knew he couldn’t afford to get on my bad side. We’d found the Mexicans involved with the drive-by, but there were still a few members that needed to be taken care of.