Demise (The Clans Book 13) Read online

  “Crina hasn’t experienced anything horrible in her fucking life. Stop defending her all the time. She’s a brat, plain and simple.”

  “And so are you, a spoiled, rich, brat! Fuck, I’m leaving. Have fun continuing your precious research.” Sorin gets up from the chair, takes his tablet, and goes straight for the door. But as he leaves I seriously think about what he’s said.

  Would it hurt to take Bianca out for a night of fun? Given the way Stefan would barely look at her and avoid eye contact today. Hell, if I don’t at least try, I’ll never know.

  It looks like I’m heading over to Bianca’s to take her on an impromptu trip to Las Vegas.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bianca

  My wall has never looked so boring. It’s all I’ve been doing for the last week. Okay, that might be a drastic overstatement . . . but it feels like this is all I’ve been doing. When I chose this wallpaper over a year ago, I picked it because of the thick, gold lines in the chevron pattern. At least, it looked like chevron on the floor. After I left the store I realized I only looked at a portion of the wallpaper. Turns out it isn’t chevron. Instead the lines are in odd shaped squares, triangles, and even in parallel bits. Between the lines are an array of sea greens mixed with blues. The first time I glanced at it, I didn’t feel like I was in an interior decorating store. Instead, I imagined myself in the Museum of Modern Art. That’s when I knew I needed this, because the first damn time it gave me a sense of oasis that I never experienced before.

  But not anymore.

  Not since I told Stefan what I did.

  The last week has gone incredibly slow. I’ve spent every moment of it that I could with my parents, trying to find some sort of way to keep busy. Because if I’m not busy, I think about everything I should’ve said to Stefan, or the things I could be doing.

  Then I realize he hasn’t reached out to me either, and it all starts again.

  Regret. Fear. Anger. Regret. Fear. Anger.

  A constant cycle that’s made up the last seven days.

  Ding Dong.

  My doorbell ringing through my apartment brings me back to reality. I jump off my bed and pull my silk robe around me, tying it in a knot as I rush to the front door. I peep through the hole and see someone I never expected to— Mircea.

  “I know you’re on the other side. You’re not as stealthy as a cheetah, my dear.” Mircea snidely remarks. It’s enough to make me want to open the door, just to give him a snarky reply.

  But the second I lay my eyes on him, my attitude doesn’t matter anymore. Instead, the feelings come rushing in. Betraying Stefan. Not understanding why I’m into Mircea, or why even now, I stop getting so anxious.

  How is it possible that he’s the reason for this mess? Okay. That’s not fair. I’m the reason for the chaos I’ve created with Stefan. If I hadn’t fucked him, everything might be fine right now.

  Shaking my head, I do everything I can to push back my thoughts. “Mircea. What’re you doing here? I mean, fuck, why are you here?” Heat flushes over me, so I push my hair behind my back while I wait for his reply.

  “Mmm, thought you might enjoy some company. Haven’t seen much of you this week. You been doing alright?”

  “I’m fine, really busy.”

  Mircea peers in the doorway and I’m sure he can see my kitchen, or maybe even the circular table with boxes of snacks I’ve been shoving down my throat every day. “Yeah, doesn’t look like that. Considering you have a whole pantry on your table,” His smile makes it burn a little less.

  Grabbing the door with my left hand, I pull it against my ass, obstructing the view he has in the apartment. “I’m very busy, so get to your point. You must have one if you came all the way here.”

  “I’m just across town. But, I did come here for a reason. I’m taking an impromptu flight to Las Vegas for a night of fun. All this work has stiffened me up a bit.”

  “Stiffened you up?” I cock a brow.

  He chuckles, dipping his head down a tad. “Not like that. I only mean I need to decompress. Want to come with me?”

  I shouldn’t go with him and I know it. I’m in enough shit and this could make things worse. But, Stefan and I aren’t dating. Hell, staying at my place shoving food down my throat and staring at my fucking wallpaper won’t help make anything better.

  Plus, I need a good night of drowning my sorrows and dancing my ass off. “Fine. When are you leaving?”

  Mircea turns his wrist to glance at his watch. “Let’s say five minutes? Just throw some shit in a bag. You can get ready at my brother’s penthouse. It’s right on the Strip, and there’s a dope club downstairs.”

  I release the door and turn, heading to go back into my bedroom. When I’m halfway there I call out behind me, “Give me ten and wait by the door. I need time to go over my outfit options.”

  New York is beautiful, but even my home doesn’t compare to this. The city skyline is filled with hues of gold, green, blue, purple, and red. Even shades of pink come through every now and again. I spot taillights lit up in bright cherry red on the main road, showing just how busy the city is, no matter what time of day.

  I wrap my arms around myself, aiming to give some sort of comfort. Being here is still a bit uneasy to me, though I needed to get out of the apartment. I had to do something. Sitting around sulking, eating loads of junk food wasn’t going to help me. But, neither is this. At least it’ll give me some time out of the house.

  I’m in a blue-black two-piece dress. The top is strappy, kind of like a spaghetti strap cami that was cut off just below the bust. Laces come through the center of the top, much like a corset. While my skirt starts a couple inches below in an asymmetrical pencil type of style. It’s one of the sexiest things I own and something I’ve had in my closet for quite some time. Given it’s flashy as hell, wearing it to Las Vegas seemed like the right thing to do. Shoot, it even shows off my ink in the best way, making the colors pop against the darkness of my attire.

  “Ready to go downstairs? I’m really feeling lucky.” Sorin, Mircea’s brother adds. When we got to Mircea’s plane his brother was already there. I don’t know how I should’ve felt about it, though I suppose I should be relieved. It meant going on this trip to Vegas was more of a group outing and not a date.

  “Sure,” I reply, turning toward him. Sorin is in a flashy gold suit with his hair slicked back. It screams bachelor. However, looking around his penthouse, I see Mircea is nowhere to be seen. “Is Mircea coming?”

  Sorin nods, “Yes, he’ll join us later.” I sense the way the corner of his mouth lifts up in suspicion. If you ask me, he isn’t even sure if Mircea will be joining us.

  “Handling something for the Clans?” I question, calling Sorin out on his horrendous attempt at lying to me.

  His eyes focus in on mine. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “I’m Bianca Petran and I’m ordering you to tell me what you know, Sorin Lazar.” I will never be someone who accepts less than what I deserve. If Mircea is working on something for the Clans, I should’ve known about it.

  “He’s meeting with some people who might be able to help us find Kronid Masterson.” I blink, never hearing the name before. He said Masterson, and there’s only one Masterson I know of. The man who kidnapped my mother as a teenager and raped her. Also my biological father.

  “Masterson. Any relation to Jonas?”

  Sorin’s tight lip tells me everything I need to know. “I’m sure you’ve already connected the dots.”

  “Yes. A son?”

  He nods in confirmation. “Yes. We believe he might be the one behind the attacks. Mircea decided to reach out to a friend here in Vegas to attempt getting more information on Kronid. I was asked to show you a good time while he’s busy. So, let’s head downstairs and enjoy ourselves. Shall we?” Sorin holds his arm out to me and I take it.

  Sorin takes me downstairs and we headed straight to the bar, downing a couple shots before going to the slot machines. I did okay
there, so we went further into the casino to play blackjack. I did great there, so I played another game before I decided to call it a night. After all, luck tends to strike out here and I wasn’t looking to spend my own money and risk losing my winnings. Maybe two or three hours has passed us by and we’re now back in the bar area, in a secluded part away from a large portion of partiers.

  Sorin sits across from me in the booth, closer to the edge. A pair of heels clicks against the floor, growing closer with each step. I take a sip of my ginger ale, opting for it since my stomach is feeling a bit odd. Looking up I see someone come into view and like a slow motion movie her hand flies across the air, slapping against Sorin’s cheek.

  “You piece of shit.” Her tone is strong, callous like a viper ready to strike again.

  But Sorin, oh, he smiles like this is nothing but a joke to him. “Bianca, this is my baby sister, Crina.”

  Crina’s eyes widen when he says my name and she turns to look at me. “Bianca Petran, I can assume, the golden goose herself. Wow. What a day.”

  “I’d prefer to be called a swan, but sure.” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a tad. Though, Crina doesn’t find it amusing.

  Rolling her eyes, she looks back to her brother. “Stop digging into Charlie’s past because it’s none of your business. I don’t know why you’re digging . . . but you’re only stirring things up now. Things that should’ve been left alone. Shit, Sorin. I thought Mircea was going to be the problem. Not you. Especially not you.”

  Sorin shuts his eyes for a moment and tightens his jaw, taking a sip of his beer before he responds to his sister. “I know the gist of what went on, but the gist will never tell you the whole story. I needed to know, Crina, so I won’t make apologies for it. Especially when it means I’m better suited to protect you.”

  “Protecting me? This must be a joke. The only thing you’re doing is creating more problems. You turning over these stones is putting me in more danger.”

  Sorin releases a scoff, “No. What’s putting you in danger is falling for a Beaumont. You have no idea the people that would kill you simply because of your association with him. I’m doing everything in my power to make sure you don’t die for your lover.”

  “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” I cut in, hoping to diffuse a bit of the situation.

  Crina stares daggers at me, “Princess, it’s best you shut the fuck up. This isn’t any of your concern.”

  “I’m not the only one digging into this and you know it. Don’t you?” Sorin asks her, forcing her to turn her attention back to him.

  “I’m happy, Sorin. I figured Mircea was going to be the one fucking with my life, with my happiness, not you. Please, if you really care about me . . . stop looking for things. Please . . . you . . . you don’t know the things we’re going through right now. The shit we’re surviving through is hard enough, and I don’t know if we can make it if more comes our way.”

  “If you want me to stop then you’ll be honest with me and tell me everything you know.” Sounds like a fair trade off. I’m sure most brothers would say something like this to protect their sisters.

  Crina clenches her jaw in the same way I’ve seen Sorin and Mircea, but ultimately waves her hand, motioning for her brother to scoot over. He does and she takes a seat beside him, turning her body a tad to face him.

  “Charlie’s dad was an important man in France, so important that he was killed when Charlie was five. His uncle moved here with Charlie and his own daughter, starting a new life. It led to a very hard upbringing, losing a parent and all. They aren’t involved with anything that their family might’ve been all those years ago. I promise you, Sorin. They aren’t involved in it. They’ve only wanted to get away from it all.”

  Sorin nods, seeming to accept what his sister has said.

  Meanwhile, in the back of my mind I’m recalling how the Clans had an issue with the French a few years back. It ultimately affected Davide and Blanka Lupei. I find myself wanting to discuss this with Stefan, the man who knows everything . . . but I can’t, because I’m in Las Vegas and he’s back in New York.

  Stefan was the man I’d discuss everything with, whether it had to do with the Clans, or if it was as simple as my favorite bakery on the Upper East Side.

  Like a punch to the gut it hits me— I miss him, so fucking much.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stefan

  “You requested my presence?” I say to Mariana and Ion who sit at the head of the table. A table which is usually filled, though isn’t today. You see, they’ve requested a private meeting with them. It means they want something, but what, that is the question.

  “Yes, I need you to speak with Melody and see if she can do some digging for us.” Mariana speaks up, appearing a bit stressed.

  “What kind of digging?”

  Mariana and Ion share a worried glance. “We’ve caught wind that there was some sort of arrangement established between the Steele brothers and the O’Dea family in Boston.” Irish mafia. Ugh. They’re dramatic pieces of shit.

  “Why do their business dealings matter to us?” Ion tenses his jaw at my question, showing his intense frustration. He’s never been the type of man who enjoys being questioned. If he didn’t like it, he should’ve thought about who he and Mariana were inviting over for a private meeting. I’m Stefan Dalca, motherfucker. I question everything.

  “Stefan, it shouldn’t come as a shock how we like to keep tabs on what the other mafia families are doing. The O’Deas are cousins to Desmond Mackenzie in Ireland. We’re right to be cautious.” Mariana adds.

  I roll my eyes, “No, not when it comes to Desmond, or even Colin. Fiona maybe, but she’s an unpredictable bitch. I’ve been to Ireland on many occasions to formally represent the Clans. He would never authorize anything which might harm us. If it were the Italians, I’d say we need to do digging, but it isn’t. It’s Desmond fucking Mackenzie. He’s going through enough right now, having all his children back under one roof and whatnot.”

  “We weren’t asking for your opinion,” Ion grits.

  I cackle, “You should know by now I’ll give it regardless.”

  A rap comes to the door of the study.

  “Who is it?” Mariana calls out across the room.

  “Me,” Ysenia’s soft voice replies.

  “Come on in, sweetheart,” Mariana replies to her youngest daughter.

  Ysenia opens the door as I turn my body to face her. “Did you need something?”

  “No, not really. I was just curious when Bianca would be back from Las Vegas with the Lazars. I was hoping we could grab dinner soon. I need some sister time. It isn’t anything urgent.”

  She’s in Las Vegas with Sorin and Mircea Lazar? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  “I thought she was on her way back today. It was only an overnight trip I believe. Shoot her a text and I’m sure she’ll respond when she lands. Don’t get flustered. Alright?” Ion smirks, giving his daughter the best advice he could. Ysenia has always been more of a nervous bird, so it makes sense why she’d be feeling a little odd.

  “Okay, thanks. Sorry to interrupt you guys.” Ysenia makes her way out of the study, shutting the door behind her.

  “I’m so glad they’re bonding. I worried they wouldn’t get off on the right foot and all.” Mariana pipes up.

  Ion nods, “Yes. They’ll make a good pair when they’re married.”

  I laugh, a cackle which undoubtedly shows I’m annoyed. Not that I give a fuck. “Did she ever agree to this arrangement? The marriage?”

  “No,” Ion replies.

  “You should know better. There isn’t any taming a Vasile woman, and if she hasn’t agreed, she likely won’t. You can’t even force her hand. Not with Mariana’s daughter. That defiance in their blood runs deep. Don’t you think?” I smirk, relaxing a bit in my chair. He should already know this from being married to Mariana for so fucking long. He’d know better than anyone else.

  Ion draws his l
ips into a straight line before cocking a brow.

  Fuck. Her and I have kept shit private for a reason. I have to say something that’ll throw him off a bit. “She’s your daughter, Ion. Bianca has grown up with the Clans and more than anyone else, she’ll only take what she deserves. Now, I’ll reach out to Melody and see if she can do some digging. But, neither of you should be worried. Desmond is an ally, which means Colin will fold into line like all generals do in the mafias. Breathe. It’ll be fine.” I state, rising from my chair I push it under the table and meet my eyes with both Ion and Mariana.

  They both appear to be relaxed which causes me to relax a bit and I head out before they can stop me. I have a date with a darling young woman. One who I happen to call my daughter.

  I’ve been promising to take Daniella out for a lunch date at this restaurant for about a week. Though, if you ask my little spitfire, she’ll tell you it’s been weeks. Moments like this remind me how much of Presley’s attitude runs through her veins. It eases my mind, gently confirming that even though her mother isn’t here with us physically anymore, she still has parts of her.

  The place we’re eating at is in SoHo, on a corner of a busy street. Daniella pointed it out after we had a day out, then continuously talked about how cool it looked. The modern architecture on the outside would give you a different opinion of the place. But when you walk through those double doors, you go twenty to forty years in the past.

  Modern counters matched with wooden pallets which make up the bar, and old metal stools. It gives you a Texan charm sort of vibe. Nothing in here is fancy per se, but more of a homey feel. Something you’d find at a thrift store, or a garage sale. The walls are made up of faux flowers, really giving the garden like look.

  “Cool enough for you?” I ask her, taking a seat at the small table the hostess led us to a few moments ago.