Reckoning (Vincent and Eve #2)

by Jessica Ruben

  I let myself out of the room, too emotionally exhausted to argue.

  Under the shower spray, my mind plays back last night’s events. Vincent. Vincent. Vincent. His lips. His hands. Dancing. Our fight. His half admission of love. What am I going to do? He wants to talk. He wants to tell me everything so there won’t be any more secrets. Is he going to tell me about the family business with Daniela? And do I even want to know the truth? I’ve spent my life trying to stay away from that bullshit. How is this happening to me?

  I walk back into the room physically refreshed, but still unsure what I’m supposed to tell Claire. I change on autopilot, lost in my own head.

  She’s so engrossed in her book that she barely registers I’m ready to go. I glance at the cover of the paperback she’s reading and my eyes widen in surprise. It’s a hot guy with a naked torso, covered in tattoos.

  “What are you reading?” I ask, suppressing a chuckle.

  She slams her book shut, turning red. “Um, nothing…”

  “Tell me you’re reading porn right now.” I bite the side of my cheek, doing my best not to burst into laughter.

  “It’s not porn! It’s really good actually!” I move closer to read the cover when she hides the book behind her back. “It’s about this guy in a motorcycle club…and…this girl, well, she was a stripper at first, but then—” She stops talking and we burst into hysterics.

  We leave the room to head over to the dining hall on campus. We both need coffee and greasy food badly. Taking a small booth in the back, my stomach growls louder than I thought possible. Claire tells me she’ll get the food and I should grab the coffee in order to save time.

  The cashier gives me a face when she takes my dining card for the two coffees as if she’s annoyed to be helping some hungover rich kid whose daddy makes sure she has enough money in her account each month. I want to tell her that I’m not like that at all; I’m here on full scholarship and the school pays for my food—I’m not some rich asshole. Instead, I just thank her as graciously as I can manage, and walk back to our booth, holding both our mugs of coffee.

  Claire sits down right after me, setting a green tray in front of us. Relief settles in my stomach as I unwrap a gigantic egg-and-cheese sandwich, immediately taking a huge bite. While I’m chewing, I pour a small packet of creamer into my coffee mug and watch the color turn from black to light brown. I put the cup to my lips and hum. “Ah, coffee.”

  “Okay, Eve. I’m ready. Tell me everything.” Claire’s eyes are shining with excitement as she scoots forward in her seat. Even though I’m a private person, I feel like I can trust her with at least a general outline of events. And the truth is, I’m relieved to have a friend to share this with. Everything has gotten so complicated, and I want support. I know that I need to come clean with Janelle, too.

  I clear my throat. “Well, me and Vincent met one night in the Meatpacking District last year. And we ended up going out a few times.”

  Her eyes widen in shock with my admission. I could have told her I had dinner with the President and she probably wouldn’t be as shocked. “Wait. Vincent Borignone took you out? Like, on dates?”

  “Um, I guess so?” I stop and look around, making sure no one is eavesdropping. Luckily, everyone around us seems to be busy in their own conversations. “I asked him once what we were doing, but he just said we’re friends.” I shrug. “Look, we have this weird connection. He’s gorgeous, but with him, it’s more than that. I had no clue that he went to school here! And I definitely didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”

  She breathes in deeply, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. “Look, Eve. There’s a lot I need to tell you because clearly, you don’t have a clue. You’ve looked him up though, right?” She lifts the salt, shaking it over her eggs.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I finally did, after lunch that day when I met the girls in Phi Alpha.”

  “Ah. That’s why you ran out.” She nods in understanding.

  “Listen, we all talk about Vincent all the time because of how hot he is. And yes, there are rumors about his mafia connections. But Eve”—she lowers her voice and moves closer to me—“I don’t think they’re just rumors. They say he’s the son of the biggest mobster in Manhattan! And there must be a grain of truth to that, right? I mean, otherwise, why would that rumor even start? And honestly, look at him! He’s scary as fuck! And, Daniela, she’s been with him since her freshman year. I guess that’s three years now—and to my knowledge, they’ve never been on a break. I mean, have you seen her social media accounts? Millions of followers!” She’s rushing to get the words out.

  I feel the need to defend myself. “I didn’t even know his last name until lunch! How would I have known he had a girlfriend?”

  She lets out a breath but continues. “You know that she’s a socialite, right? Her father owns a huge bank in Central America. They’re billionaires. Her parents had a Debutant Ball for her at the University Club when she turned eighteen, and people said it was insane! They’re not just a college golden couple. They’re like, a global golden couple.” Her green eyes turn to gray as my face drops. It’s obvious that she isn’t enjoying this.

  “I’m telling you this because you need to know that they aren’t”—she takes a breath, thinking of the right word—“ordinary. And it’s obvious you and Vincent were into each other last night, but trust me, her claws are in him deep. And if Daniela ever found out about whatever went on last year between you guys, let’s just say your life would be made into a living hell. She’d make sure you were blackballed from all of Greek life and probably every restaurant and club in New York City. Maybe even beyond that.”

  My throat tightens. I’m shaking from the anxiety of what I may have gotten myself into. Vincent knows I’m here and he isn’t going to stop until he talks to me. He’s nothing if not persistent.

  “I’ll take last night and our conversation to the grave, okay? Don’t worry.” Looking into her face, I see her honesty.

  “But, I really didn’t know—”

  “I know. Let’s change the subject now, yeah? Just promise me you’ll stay away from him. Seriously, nothing good can come of it.”

  I nod my head in agreement, and we spend the rest of our breakfast discussing classes and how to get the best outlines. Apparently, Phi Alpha has an entire room dedicated to notes and exams from almost every professor at school.

  When we’re done eating, I hug Claire goodbye and get back to my room to crack open my books.

  Around eleven o’clock that night, I get a call from Janelle. “Hey, love. How’s it going?”

  I let out a sigh and move to my bed, swallowing back the tears that are resurfacing in my throat. “I don’t know. Something’s come up and...” My heart starts to pound. “There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

  “Okay. Now or in person?” Her voice is full of anxiety.

  “In person.”

  “We’ll do that. How have classes been this week? I hate hearing you sound miserable. Things were so good the last time we spoke.”

  I sniffle. “I actually made a new friend and she’s pretty cool. Her name is Claire. But she’s in this sorority and most of the girls seem like bitches. I’m not used to this…”

  “Just take it easy,” she says soothingly. “It’s okay to have harder days. Nothing is ever simple. But this is what you’ve been waiting for. Just take it day by day and keep your eye on the prize. Your life isn’t just a wish anymore. It’s happening. Remember that, okay?” I feel the tears welling up heavily in my eyes, and I know if I open my mouth again, the dam will burst. The last thing I want is for her to worry, so I keep my mouth shut.

  “Have you spoken to Ms. Levine? I bet she can help you with what you’re feeling. She told me that you’d probably go through something like this at some point.” I drop my head and breathe in and out, and the tears start to drop. I want to tell her about Vincent. No, I need to tell her. I can’t keep it in anymore. But it can’t be over the phone.

 
“Janelle, are you free tomorrow night for dinner?”

  “Yes. And don’t cry, Eve, okay? We’ll be together and everything will be all right.” I hear the kindness in her voice, and it makes my heart squeeze. She’s always got my back.

  “O-kay,” I manage to stutter out.

  “Cool. I’ll be at your dorm at five. Let’s also stop at Bed Bath, get some shit to make your room more like a home. That’s bound to help, right? Go to sleep now. Everything will look better in the morning.” She hangs up, and I curl into my bed and stare at the wall, images of Daniela and Vincent shifting in front of my eyes like a movie reel.

  CHAPTER 8

  VINCENT

  Tom and I leave the meeting together. It’s only ten at night, but I’m so tired it may as well be three in the morning.

  “Let’s hang out and order some food. I’m starving.” He opens a pack of cigarettes, grumbling when he realizes the box is empty.

  “No. I need to be alone,” I tell him seriously. I keep wondering how Eve is doing. I want to run into her room and force her to talk, but I shouldn’t. She has to calm down before I speak with her. And something tells me that after our discussion last night, a few days off from me is the right move.

  “Vince,” he says emphatically, a nervous look on his face. I cock an eyebrow. Tom only shortens my name when he’s broaching a sore subject. “I still can’t believe that Eve is actually here in school with us. What are the fuckin’ chances? I mean, shit, I know you told me how smart she is. But there are so many other schools. I mean, fuck. Talk about a turn of events. We’ve gotta discuss this.”

  I let out a grunt. After the shit that went down between Carlos and I, I had no choice but to tell Tom about Eve and what happened between us. I needed him to do some damage control for me since I didn’t kill Carlos on behalf of the family. Tom may be family, but he isn’t Antonio’s son, and he isn’t in the inner circle—not yet, anyway. He can get away with more than I can. Ending the life of the sergeant of arms for a gang—even if it’s only a pissant street gang, would be a declaration of war if it came from me.

  It took a long time, but I was finally accepting Eve was good and truly gone from my life. In my head, she was off at some great school, living her dreams in safety and maybe even wearing the Uggs I bought her. And even though I felt like I gave up something bigger than the world as I knew it, I told myself that so long as she was doing well, it was enough for me. It had to be. I’d eventually get out from under Daniela’s thumb, get off the East Coast, and maybe one day, have a chance with Eve again.

  But all that came crashing down around me when I saw her at the party last night. I seriously just couldn’t believe it. And God, she’s so beautiful. I wish I kept her in my bed, head on my pillow, body wrapped up in my sheets. She should be with me, not in some cold dorm room. Instead, I sent her off like the asshole that I am after mauling the hell out of her. She must be mortified, thinking that I used her. With the life she grew up with, what else would she believe?

  Tom clears his throat. “Let’s stop at that deli. I need a fresh pack of smokes.” He throws the empty pack in the trashcan on the corner as we step into the dimly lit bodega. The place is tiny and jam-packed with rows of junk food. There’s a small counter in the corner selling lotto tickets and cigarettes.

  “Can I help you?” The clerk looks between us nervously, probably grabbing his gun beneath the register. The truth is, he should be afraid. We’re both huge—sucking the air out of this place and making it look more like a dollhouse than a store. We’re also packing some serious heat tonight. I’ve got four guns and a knife on my body, all concealed. Although we do our best to tone it down when we’re out in the real world, we’re always Borignone mafia. We could set this entire place on fire and get away with it. We’re dominant in this city, and everyone knows it.

  Tom leans against the counter, giving his best smile to put the clerk at ease. “Marlboro Lights.” Tom reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his leather wallet that we bought together in Buenos Aires last year. Dropping a hundred-dollar bill on the counter, the guy hands him his pack and opens the register to get him his change.

  “Make that two,” I interject. Tom turns to me, a smirk on his face. He pays for the packs and we head back outside.

  He chuckles. “Behind that stone face you’re sporting, you’re really freaking the fuck out right now that she’s here, huh?” Tom knows I only smoke when I’m stressed.

  “Shut up, man.” I open my pack while he laughs.

  “Don’t worry.” He throws a meaty arm around my shoulder. “We’ll eat and chain smoke on your balcony—and maybe we can even braid each other’s hair—while we discuss the girl you killed for.” He’s laughing, but behind the smile, I can tell he’s mad as fuck.

  He moves his hands to the back of my head and I duck, shifting away from him. We walk to my building near school, talking shit until we finally get upstairs. My apartment here is a nice-sized one bedroom; it has a black leather couch, nice big screen TV, and a simple rug on the floor. It’s totally different from both my room at my dad’s townhouse and from my SoHo loft. In a weird way, it’s appropriate though; all three sides of me are represented via different living arrangements.

  Tom takes out his phone to order the pizza while I walk out onto my small balcony for a minute of privacy. I pull out another cigarette. Lighting up, I let myself take a deep inhale.

  Most people in my world smoke. I try not to since I love to fight and don’t want anything to slow my training down. But every so often, it feels damn good. It’s completely quiet on my block, and that’s by design. I can’t stand the stress and hustle of the city. The truth is, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. I turn to the glass door to see Tom laying back on my couch and turning on the TV. Thank fuck. The last thing I need is for him to question me right now.

  Tom and I have been Borignone family since before birth. My father grew up in Brooklyn, the American-born son of Italian immigrants. While his father didn’t choose the life, two of his uncles rose to infamy in the early 1970s by taking bets on sports, eventually using their brand of muscle to manipulate games. Those uncles are the men who supported my father as he grew up. They bought him shoes when his were torn and gave him lunch money when his own father’s pockets were empty. And so, after grade school, my father joined the family. And since his uncles’ deaths, he’s the Boss. Gambling, guns, and drugs are our main sources of income. Tom’s father, Enzo, is my father’s consigliere. The hope is that one day, Tom will be mine. Even though he’s made, he isn’t at the highest rung—yet. But I am. I’ve killed for the family, and I’d do a fuck of a lot worse if need be. I may be at a crossroads right now, but I’m a man of loyalty. Always will be.

  What’s funny is that once upon a time, being part of the family was all I ever wanted. I desired all the benefits that came with the notoriety. I knew, even then, that most men would sell their soul for a chance to live the life I was born into. They wish, if only for a moment, to walk into a cocaine den where naked women sort and weigh the goods—tits sprinkled with white powder. The vacations abroad on private planes. The non-stop cash pouring in. Hell, being above the law basically guarantees a life of debauchery. But that’s just human nature, isn’t it? Without being forced to tow a line, everyone would be running as wild as we are.

  No other illegal enterprise is as powerful, organized, or as successful. We’re the governing body of most black markets on the East Coast. Hell, Eve said it on the night we met. If the government turns a blind eye to illegal shit like fights, then control is lost and people get hurt. Well, she was wrong about something. Control isn’t lost. It just falls into someone else’s hands. And usually, it’s ours.

  I swallow hard, letting my mind wander back to the night that would change the path of my life forever.

  ***

  We throw our blue caps in the air and cheer. Everyone slaps each other’s backs, scattering to find family. My father comes to me, chuckling in bo
th pride and amusement while one-hundred-twenty students gawk at us. People know who we are, and they stare in nervous fascination. The Mafia Don and his intellectual son; I earned my honors status. We’re both well over six-feet tall with chiseled, hard features. I’m already wider and thicker than he is. Where his eyes are electric blue, mine are coal black like my Native American mother.

  I graduated in the top five percent of my class, and it wasn’t done with anything other than aptitude coupled with hard work. My IQ took me far, but to get to the top level here at Tri-Prep Academy, nothing but keeping my head in the books would get me the grades I needed for an Ivy League. My father always knew my potential, and he was sure to capitalize on it. If we want to take our business to the next level one day, we need someone in the family with the academic credentials. An inside man to be the face of legitimacy.

  Behind all the shit we do is love and loyalty; that’s what we stand for, and it’s something that regular society doesn’t have. These boys around me would shorten their lives to be me. I don’t give a fuck how many times they shrink back, talking shit about what we do. The truth is they wish they were me. If they had the brotherhood as I do—people who have their back no matter what—I’d bet my life they’d never leave it.

  My father shakes his head, excitement in his eyes. “Tonight’s the night, Vincent.”

  I nod, doing my best not to show how excited I truly am.

  Tom moves next to me, his typically fun-loving face turning serious as he puts his hand out to my father, showing respect.

  Tom never gave a shit about school and grades. He spent the last four years partying, fucking girls, and doing small-time shit for the family. Now that he’s graduated, he plans to stay and work in the ports of New York and New Jersey with his father, who oversees our business there. The family dominates the waterfronts, and our stronghold could always use more loyal muscle. His father is a Capo—a made man of the highest rank, beneath my father, of course.