American Dynasty

T W E L V E

Flynn tilted his head up and narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Stella asked, turning on the lamp at her bedside table.

"Well, you know what they say, ignorance is bliss."

"Ignorance is also danger," Stella pointed out.

Flynn studied her thoughtfully and nodded. "Fair point. What do you want to know?"

"Is my father really a gangster?" She asked immediately.

Flynn stepped back into her room, closing the balcony door behind him. "I think the better question is was he a gangster. The answer to that is yes, but I don't know too much about his current activities. Only rumours."

Stella felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. How had she never known? Did Matteo know? Was her mother even the slightest bit aware? "Has he ever killed anyone?" She struggled to ask, afraid to hear Flynn's answer.

Flynn took a seat on the sofa and leaned back. "Many," he said nonchalantly, as if he was talking about how many cars Beppe owned. "He was out of the game for quite a while but rumour has it he's come back to help Joe Masseria. Apparently it was him who shot two Irish mob bosses dead in the street a couple months ago."

Stella remembered that incident. She had read about it in the newspapers the morning after. The two bosses had been killed in broad daylight and they had never found the shooter. "Why would he help Masseria? My father is friends with Salvatore D'Aquila."

"Beppe always knew how to choose the winning side," Flynn said with grudging admiration. "With Masseria and D'Aquila at each other's throats he had to choose who he wanted to be standing alive with at the end of it. Whether they're your friend or not it's foolish to stay loyal to someone you know is going to fail."

"I imagine you have plenty of friends," Stella said sarcastically, taking a seat on the other side of the couch.

Flynn glanced at her and smirked. "I've got friends...I just don't trust most of them."

Stella raised her eyebrows at him. "How can you be alright with that?"

"What?"

"Not having someone that you can trust."

"I do have someone I can trust. A couple, actually. But I trust Aiden the most. He's like a brother to me." Flynn's expression was completely solemn. "He's one of the only people I'd willingly give my life for."

"No one else?" Stella asked curiously.

Flynn looked at the dark haired girl with a melancholy smile. "In my line of work, trusting more than a few people is normally what gets you killed."

Stella sucked in her cheeks and looked down at her hands. "Are you scared of that? Dying, I mean."

"I stopped being scared of death a long time ago. There's no point in trying to hide from the inevitable," he said, his voice filled with absolute certainty.

"But you only tempt death by doing what you do. Dying young is avoidable," Stella argued.

"I suppose, but what's the fun in that?" Flynn mused. There was silence for a few minutes before Stella spoke up.

"How old are you?"

The corner of Flynn's mouth turned up slightly at her random question. "Twenty-three," he paused before continuing, "I was born in 1902 in a tiny village at the base of the Slieve Bloom Mountains in Ireland."

Stella nodded, picking at her cuticles. "I was born and raised in Manhattan. I'm almost twenty, my birthday is in a week."

"And people call me young," Flynn chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"You're only three years older than me!" Stella protested.

"But I'm still older," he teased, grinning widely. Stella rolled her eyes but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Flynn decided that he liked this Stella much more than the one that constantly pushed his buttons and took every opportunity to remind him just how much she disliked him. "It's getting late," he remarked, glancing at the clock sitting on Stella's fireplace mantle. The light was dim so he could barely see the time, but he figured it had to be at least three or four in the morning.

"More like it's getting early," Stella corrected with a wide yawn.

"Get some sleep, doll," Flynn said softly, getting up from the couch.

Stella followed him out to the balcony where he began to climb over the railing. "Are you sure you're going to be okay out there?" Stella asked, trying to sound casual.

Flynn's face broke into a boyish grin. "You're worried about me!"

"I am not!" Stella protested.

"You are," Flynn sang, chuckling as he leaped off of her balcony and onto the grass below. Stella gasped in astonishment as he somersaulted and tumbled, getting up very quickly.

"How did you do that?" She asked in disbelief, trying to process what she had just witnessed. "It's not like you balcony is very high up. Plus, when you spend your entire boyhood running from merchants from whom you stole bread and cheese, you get pretty good at jumping off of roofs and balconies." Flynn grinned widely and winked. "I'll see you real soon, doll." Before Stella could ask what he meant he was already strolling down the dark street and out of sight.