Callista Genovese never wanted to be part of the family business. She enjoyed the anonymity of being a teacher in a land where she was not the killer queen. But like always, family tends to ruin everything.
Callista was dragged back to New York with...
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Instead of chirping birds, Callista Genovese woke up with a hangover. She groaned and marched to her medicine kit, popping a pill. She opened her curtains, letting the fresh air in but the view had completely ruined her morning.
Castor Luciano was talking with her father.
"I told him to stay away! Idiot!" She snapped and grabbed her robe, making her way downstairs.
Caly heard the sound of a car and frowned as she found Castor alone in the doorway.
She pinched his side but Cas stepped back, looking smug at her failed attack. "Why the hell are you here? I told you not to idolize my stupid father!"
"We were just talking. He has good insights," he replied. Castor eyed her messy hair stopping on her face. "Someone slept badly."
Caly rolled her eyes. She had tossed and turned until four in the morning that her eye-bags were expected. She couldn't forget about Franco's revelation. The boy clearly hadn't moved on yet.
"Does Vincent have a lead yet?" she asked.
"Yes." Castor hid his hands on his pockets. "I ordered him to find the men we hired three years ago."
"That's good." She nodded, tightening the belt of her peach silk robe.
Cas narrowed his eyes, rubbing a thumb at the edge of her lips. "What? You forget to wash your face?"
Callista slapped his hand away. "Anything else?"
"No. See you." Her best friend chuckled, trudging away before Callista called out again.
"Wait."
Castor swiveled to her direction, walking backward in a snail's pace. "What?"
"What do you want for your birthday?"
He halted on his tracks. Castor marched to her, emerald eyes gleaming. "I see you still remember."
Caly folded her arms. "Excuse me. I never failed to greet you even when I was away."
"Yeah. Three letters." He scoffed. "HBD? Who greets their best friends like that?"
"Oh, Cas. Do you forget who you're talking to?"
"Touché." A smile crawled up his face. "Mal volunteered to host it at her bar. Though I had to promise to limit my visitors. She must be desperate."
