The Sweetest Oblivion (Made, #1)

by Danielle Lori

“There’s no such thing as good money or bad money. There’s just money.” —Lucky Luciano

“Thought the Sweet Abelli was sweet.”

“Sometimes the cheapest things are the most valuable.”

“Murders came with smiles, shooting people was no big deal for us Goodfellas.” —Henry Hill

Blood dripped down her olive skin, yet she ate her dessert because her papà had told her to. I wasn’t usually a sadist, but Jesus, it was kind of hot. A reluctant rush of heat ran to my groin.

“There are three sides to every story. Mine, yours and the truth.” —Joe Massino

“Behind every great fortune, there is a crime.” —Lucky Luciano

Nicolas stood behind me, close enough my ponytail brushed his stomach. His hands gripped the back of the couch on either side of me as he leaned slightly over my head, his attention on the TV like I wasn’t even here. It was invasive and rude. My pulse drummed in my ears as my heart tripped up in what could only be called anticipation. My body’s unwilling reaction brought a rush of annoyance in. I didn’t like this man—heart fluttering or not—and I suddenly didn’t care how inappropriate it would be to talk back to him. “Yours?” I asked smoothly. “Bummer.” A tug on my ponytail. “Watch it.” His words were low and distracted.

Another tug on my ponytail, but this time he pulled it all the way back so I was looking at him upside down. His eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to wonder if this Sweet Abelli even exists.” I swallowed. “You shot my brother.” Was his fist . . .? It was wrapping around my ponytail. Once. Twice. His gaze flicked to the TV. “He deserved worse.”

This man was going to watch the news with a fistful of my hair? My God. Maybe it was due to my head being at an awkward angle and my blood not circulating as well, but my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. And the fact that he smelled so good, like clean soap and man, made the corners of my vision hazy.

His gaze came down to me. “He almost got you killed, yet you stick up for him?” “He’s my brother.” His expression hardened. “He’s an idiot.”

“Something exciting.” “Like?” “I don’t know. Maybe smoking cigarettes with handsome young men.” Ugh. A smile pulled on my lips. Only she would think of Nicolas as a young man. “Goodnight, tesoro.” Nonna winked.

He glanced over and caught my gaze. “You’ve got to work on that staring.” My pulse fluttered in my throat, and warmth rushed to my face. His eyes fell to my cheeks. And then he did something I never expected. Maybe it was from disbelief, or maybe he thought I was ridiculous. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. He laughed. Softly, darkly. The kind of laugh that has no good intentions. The kind of laugh the walls don’t forget.

He ran a hand across his face, wiping off a hint of amusement. “Touché.” Glancing at me sideways, he gave me an appraisal, maybe impressed I had the guts to say what I did. Licking his lips, his deep, serious voice rushed over me. “So prove it to me.” My brows knitted. “Prove what?” “That it was platonic.” “How am I supposed to—?” My stomach erupted with butterflies when it dawned on me. The shock of what he wanted me to do settled in the space like an elephant in the room. “You’re serious?” “Deadly.”

I rested my hand on the console, planning not to touch him anywhere I didn’t need to, and leaned in. He watched me with an expression like he was in line at the DMV. Five inches away, four, three . . . I jumped the gap.

Just like I’d done with Tyler, though nothing like it at all, I inhaled a breath of air from the slight part between his lips. One second, two seconds, three. I stole his breath, yet my head grew light as if he took mine.

“See,” I breathed. “Completely platonic.” His gaze burned my cheek for too many seconds. Though he must have agreed, because he only put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

I’d underestimated her. I’d thought she would refuse to reenact the stage kiss, therefore giving me a leg to stand on by calling that “platonic” excuse bullshit. Truthfully, I didn’t give a fuck if it had been. It pissed me off.

“Yeah?” she whispered. “Yeah. After you tell me what the fuck happened.” She sighed and rested her head against the seat. “Nothing. I just want to go home.” I dropped to my haunches, grabbed her chin, and turned her face to mine. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened.” Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, and she averted her gaze. “I don’t want you to make it a big deal.” “Won’t.” Depends. “Promise you won’t do anything.” “Promise.” Lie. Those soft brown eyes met mine, working their way into my chest. “The cashier . . .” She swallowed. “ . . . Well, he told me I had to buy something because I used the bathroom. And then I told him I didn’t have any money on me, and . . .” She hesitated. “Jesus, spit it the fuck out,” I snapped. Anger crept beneath my skin, slow but searing. “Did he touch you?” “No!” she responded too quickly. “It’s not that big of a deal . . . he just threatened he would if I didn’t leave.” A deathly stillness fell over me. “You’re lying.” She tossed her head, trying to shake off my hand. My grip tightened. “Where?”

Her eyes came to mine with a spark. “He smacked my ass and told me I could pay another way, all right?”

ignored the question and looked around the dump. “Nice place you got here. You own it?” The clerk glanced at the gas can in my hand. “Yeah.” “Must be your livelihood, I imagine.” His expression turned stiff. “I don’t know what you want, but I’m not interested.” “Can’t afford new floors, nor to replace your sign out front. I’m sure all income is going straight home. Wife . . . kids, maybe.” I undid the cap, and then sloshed some gasoline on the dirty laminate. The clerk dropped his pen, taking a step back. “What the fuck are you doing?” “The girl that just came in here?” I gave my head a shake. “Wrong girl, David.” Gas splashed a shelf of postcards. “I’m calling the cops.” The clerk’s voice shook. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he didn’t reach for the phone. I glanced at the man to see he was focused on my forearm—on the ace of spades tattooed on the inside. An amused breath escaped me. “I swear, this lack of anonymity ruins all my fucking fun. Should’ve never gotten the tat.” “I didn’t know,” the clerk blurted. “I didn’t fucking know who she was!” “I wanted your hand,” I said, walking down aisles, sloshing gasoline on shelves, cooler doors, the rack of porn mags. “But that’s a fucking mess, really. Don’t have the right knife on me to do a good job.” The clerk stood, frozen and sweating. “You got insurance, David?” He swallowed. “Of course.”

The smell of gasoline fumes consumed the gas station. I tossed the now-empty can on the floor and grabbed a Zippo lighter off a shelf. Ironically enough, one with the ace of spades on the sides. I thought for a moment about the location and class of the joint. “Hartford?” “Y-yeah.” I placed a cigarette between my lips, a dark smile pulling on the corners. “The correct answer is you had insurance.” “Wait,” he pleaded. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Let me apologize—” His words became white noise in my head, a gurgling, annoying sound. Standing in front of the glass doors, I lit the cigarette between my lips. A cherry glowed at the end, and nicotine flowed through my blood. With the lazy, autocratic stare I was known for, I told the wild-eyed, frozen clerk, “If you got a back door, you better find it.”

Nicolas stood so close my ponytail brushed his chest. He had no boundaries, I noticed with annoyance, while at the same time I tried to ignore the heady pull to step backward until my back touched his front. “The cashier groped her,” he said indifferently. “So I burned down his place of business . . . and maybe him.” Papà’s gaze hardened. “Who’s stupid enough to touch my daughter?”

A nobody now, if he even made it out.” “Good,” Papà snapped. “Let’s hope he didn’t.” I didn’t know why I had even tried.

“Have you always been unhinged? Or is your controlling, delusional nature a product of inadequacy?” I said it sweetly. Sweet as poison. He continued tinkering with his part, his gaze staying focused like he hadn’t even heard me. I had to admit, it felt good to get that off my chest. Great, actually— A cool rush of shock flooded me as he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me within a foot of him. My heart was in my throat and my eyes squeezed shut, because I didn’t want to see how he was going to kill me. All I felt was warm skin and a tug on my dress, and then his hand slipped from my nape and he was gone. After a couple seconds, I opened my eyes to see him walking away with a part in hand. I stood there, frozen. “Never really thought about it,” he drawled. “But I guess I’ve always been.” Feeling something out of order, I glanced down. My lips parted in disbelief. He cut my bikini strap.

Nonna had looked up from her game of tic-tac-toe with my sister and sighed. “Finally, some entertainment.”

“I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.” I swallowed. “And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.” He slammed the door behind him.

He ran a thumb across my chin, right below my bottom lip and down the small indention. “First man I killed, I shoved an ace of spades down his throat.” I swallowed as he took a step back and walked away from me. “Name’s been with me ever since.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I guess I’m just . . . clumsy.” Ugh. Gianna laughed. “You don’t have to lie. I saw Ace push you in.” I paused with my dress around my waist while I pulled the t-shirt on. “How many saw?” “Oh, mostly everyone.” Of course they did. I blew out a breath, shimmied the dress down my hips, and then pulled the shorts on.

“You don’t have a coffeemaker,” was all I could think to say. “I don’t drink coffee.” “You’re not human,” I breathed.

“I lost two thousand.” My tone was unapologetic, like I did this all the time. Nico tugged on his tie, a smile pulling on his lips. “You didn’t lose anything. He cheated you.” I paused. “How do you know that?” “Because I taught him how, that’s why.” Lucky, my ass. “He would’ve won without the cheating,” I admitted with a sigh. “I have a terrible poker face.”

My eyes went wide. “How did you do that?” “Simple sleight of hand.” The cheating in the Russo family was so extreme that making cards disappear was “simple.” “Show me,” I insisted. His gaze sparked with amusement. “We’ll start with the basics first, so I can leave you alone for a couple hours without you losing all my money.” I frowned. He picked up the rest of the cards, and I noticed his freshly busted knuckles. I chewed my lip as he got to his feet, took off his jacket, and sat in the chair behind his desk. “You play often?” I asked. He leaned back, resting an elbow on the armrest. “Used to.”

“And what did you want to know?” I swallowed. “Where you were tonight.” “I thought my business would be the last thing on earth to interest you,” he said in an amused drawl. “Some of your business has become personal.” His words were tinged with sarcasm, yet so quiet I barely heard them. “Don’t I know it.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I didn’t wonder about it anymore when he said, “He’s alive, just like I told you he’d be. Your famiglia is taking him into the fold right now.” I cringed. “He’ll live?” “He’ll live.” I let out a deep breath of relief and let my head fall against the back of the couch. “Thank you,” I said softly.

“Are you saying you’ve never shown off with a woman in the car before?” “That’s not what I said.” “So, you have?” “When I was sixteen, probably.”

“You’re dreadfully totalitarian today.” “Just shy of psychotic, then?” His eyes sparked. “Guess I’d better up my game.”

“Why are you staring at me?” One heartbeat. Two. His voice was rough and his gaze was steady when he said, “Maybe I want to.”

It was eleven a.m. on a Sunday when I realized I wasn’t only attracted to my fiancé. I was, with a madness that ached, completely and utterly infatuated with him.

“Tell me,” Sebastian said, “why did you do it?” A heavy silence took over, and my chest tightened at Nico’s cavalier tone. “He had something I wanted.”

“It’s the depression,” Nonna whispered to my mamma. I exhaled. “I’m not depressed.”

“You poor thing, you. Looks like you’re stuck with him for good. Ace might be a cheat at heart, but he always does exactly what he says he’s going to do.”

Whiskey and flame. Sleepless nights. Tattooed skin, white t-shirts, and rough hands. Love and lust and happiness. He was everything.