Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1) (5 page)

Kaz smiled. “Don’t say a thing about it.”

“Quite literally, huh?”

His laughter came out dark and rich.

Violet chose that moment to get out of the car before her
errant, half-drunk thoughts might notice something else about the man she found
attractive.

Wasn’t his appearance, attitude, and charm enough?

“Until the next time,” Kaz murmured from inside the
vehicle.

Violet’s hand tightened around the passenger door. “There
won’t be a next time.”

She heard the smirk in his tone when he replied, “There
wasn’t supposed to be a next time after the first time we met, and look how
well that turned out for us both.”

Violet blinked awake at the hard hammering coming from her
left side. At first, she thought it was the throbbing in her head that was
making all the noise, but she quickly figured out it wasn't.

Right about the time her brother cursed from outside her
bedroom door.

“
Cazzo Cristo.
Violet, I swear to
Dio
. Get
your ass out of that bed before I come in there and force you out of it.”

Violet pushed up from her pillow using one hand, but
everything swam in her vision and the massive beating her head seemed to be
taking increased enough to make her sick. She dropped right back down to the
bed with a groan, burying her face into the pillow.

“Go away, Carmine,” Violet grumbled.

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

Her brother’s snarky, arrogant self was not what Violet
wanted to deal with first thing in the fucking morning. Wait—was it even
morning? She couldn't tell what with the way the light coming in from the
window seemed to burn the eyeballs right out of her skull.

Hangovers were the devil.

“Violet, stop making me stand out here like a fool,”
Carmine barked.

Violet glared at the bedroom door, willing her brother
away. She turned over in the bed, hoping her silence and lack of response would
make him think she had gone back to sleep.

It didn't work.

He started banging again.

Louder.

“Oh, my God,” Violet mumbled. “Stop, Carmine.”

“I will if you get up.”

But getting up meant being sick and dizzy.

The bed was better.

“No deal,” she said loud enough for her brother to hear.
“And no one said you could just come into my condo whenever the hell you
wanted, asshole. That’s not why Daddy gave you a key.”

Carmine scoffed. “That is exactly why he gave me a key,
princess. Get up, or I will open this door up myself. You have exactly three
minutes, Violet. Don’t test me. I will break it down.”

Violet briefly considered ignoring her brother. Carmine was
a lot more mouth than he was action, and he wasn’t allowed to be a dick without
some kind of good reason. She wondered why he was even there at her place as
she crawled out of bed with enough slowness to rival a snail.

Her mouth was dry, but she quickly found the glass of water
and two Tylenol tablets she had left sitting on her bedside table the night
before. Popping the pills back, she chugged half of the room-temperature water
before setting it back down.

Maybe it was the placebo effect of having taken something,
but her headache lessened almost instantly. Glancing down at herself, Violet
realized she had managed to put something appropriate on before falling into
bed.

Her brother started pounding on the door again.

“Are you up?” he asked loudly.

Violet’s irritation shot up another few notches. Enough to
make her stomp over to the bedroom door, unlock it, and swing it open
regardless of her very hungover, less-than-perfect appearance.

“Listen, you stupid ass. You don’t get to come into my
place this early in the damn morning demanding that I—”

Carmine cocked a brow, shutting Violet’s rant up instantly.
The fact that there wasn’t even a hint of amusement on his features only made
Violet’s stomach roll a little more.

And it wasn’t from the alcohol she drank the night before.

Her brother was pissed. She could see it in the way his
familiar brown eyes darkened as he looked her over.

“You look like shit,” Carmine said.

Violet balled her hands into fists. “I went out last night
for my birthday.”

Her makeup was probably a mess, and she was scared to touch
her hair for fear she might feel a rat’s nest going on up there.

“How much did you drink?” he asked.

“A bit, Carmine. Why, is that a problem? Because you drink
yourself nearly to death every damned weekend.”

Carmine’s gaze narrowed. “Maybe I do, but I sure as fuck
don’t go down to Coney Island when I do it.”

Fuck
.

The events from the night before flooded Violet’s memories.
Her friends, their stupid choice to go to the hottest new club in a place where
they shouldn’t be, and the events that followed.

Kaz
.

More than anything else, she thought about Kaz.

Violet realized her silence was not what her brother was
looking for, so she tried a different approach. “How mad is Daddy at me?”

Carmine sneered. “He’s spitting bullets.”

Shit.

“I just wanted to have a little fun,” she tried to say. “I
didn’t go into Brighton Beach, I promise.”

“No, but you did leave your friends with a bunch of
Russians to take them home, and then skipped out with another Russian
yourself,” Carmine said.

How did her brother know all of that?

“And both Nicole’s and Amelia’s fathers are ready to …”
Carmine trailed off, scowling. “Never mind, let’s go. Dad wants you in
Amityville before nine.”

Violet’s throat felt like someone was squeezing it. “Just
let me take a shower and get dressed.”

“No, you can come like that.”

She glanced down at her sleep pants and too-large sweater
ensemble. Not to mention, she knew her face and hair was a mess.

“Carmine, I am not going out on Park Avenue looking like—”

“You spent the whole night partying?” her brother
interrupted.

So this was how he wanted to play that game, huh?

“Daddy will have a fit if I show up to the mansion looking
like this,” Violet warned.

Her father was a stickler for appearances. From very young
in her teenaged years, Violet had been taught what foundation was for and just
how to use a makeup brush. Clothing had to be the latest styles, and she needed
to look the part of her father’s daughter each and every time she stepped out
of her condo.

No matter what.

“Actually,” Carmine drawled, still sneering, “he thought
this might be a good lesson for you.”

“What?”

“A good lesson. Shaming him with your behavior also means
you’re shaming yourself, after all. Get your coat, sis.”

The Gallucci mansion had never felt quite as foreboding to
Violet as it did when her brother parked his Mercedes in the driveway. She recognized
the other vehicles in the circular driveway as belonging to her parents, and
another white Lexus that belonged to Nicole’s father, Christian, who was also
her father’s consigliere and his personal doctor.

Her nerves picked up a notch when her brother turned off
the car and stepped out without a word, slamming the driver’s door behind him.
He likely knew that Violet would follow behind when she was ready to face the
music. After all, with a protective iron gate behind them closing, there was no
where she could go unless her father let her back out.

Violet pulled down the visor and stared at her reflection
in the mirror. Embarrassment bubbled through her as she took in her messy,
disheveled appearance. Her makeup was smeared, she needed a fucking toothbrush,
and her hair looked like it had been put through more than one round of …

She shook her head, wanting to get away from all that.

As quickly as she could, with nothing but her fingertips to
work with, she tried to soothe the waves of her hair enough to be presentable
and wipe the bits of smeared makeup away from under her eyes and around her
mouth. It didn't help all that much.

Fuck Carmine for not letting her make her face and hair
more presentable.

Maybe she finally understood her father’s goal when he
demanded she feel the shame she had caused him by her reckless actions. It
still pissed her off.

Getting out of the car, Violet hugged her bomber jacket a
little tighter to keep out the chill of the wind. She kept her head down as she
walked across the large driveway and up the intricate marble entryway of her
parents’ four-level, two-wing mansion.

The front door was already open.

Inviting, almost.

Violet just wanted to turn around and bolt.

The cold air forced her inside where she knew was warm.
Violet was greeted by a long, empty hallway that led into spiral staircase
wrapping around the entrance of the mansion. The stairs separated off into one
of two wings. She thought for sure that her father would be waiting to meet
her, but not even her mother was there.

And her brother had already disappeared.

Violet took her time to remove her shoes and coat, before
putting them away in the large closet with the rest of the outerwear. She
walked slowly through the ground level of the mansion, finding the large
kitchen and dining room empty, as well as the entertainment room and living
room.

If her father wasn’t waiting for her in one of those rooms,
then she knew exactly where he was.

His office.

That didn’t bode well for her at all.

Violet decided not to put seeing her father off for any
longer than was necessary. It was only drawing out the inevitable bitch-fest he
was sure to level on her. Better to get it done and over with so she could get
back to her condo and sleep this awful day off.

It was only when Violet was up onto the third floor of the
second wing and standing outside of the large oak doors that led into her
father’s office did she realize how much trouble she was really in.

His office was closed.

Which meant closed to her.

Alberto, in all of her twenty-one years, had never once
closed his office doors to her when he called upon Violet for something. A
thick lump lodged in her throat as she stared at the doors, knowing what her
father wanted her to do.

Knock.

Wait.

Enter only at his will and direction.

Not like she was his daughter, who could come in any time
and was always welcome, but instead, like one of his men who had to be deemed
worthy enough to be seen.

It was like a punch to her gut.

Violet had always been her father’s little girl, even when
she was an unruly child. Alberto often proclaimed her to be his favorite
between his two children, even if he did so in a joking manner. He spoiled her
with anything and everything she asked for.