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“Gesù Cristo,” my cousin, Tor, mutters from the pew behind me. “I slit a bastard’s throat last week. He made the exact same noise.”
My father always said my temper was different from my brothers. Their anger burns slow like a candle and is easy to extinguish, whereas mine is like a firework. Light my fuse and I explode mere seconds later, with no thought to the irreparable damage I will cause. You’re vicious, son. A great trait for a capo to have. Not.
“You hoping to fall, or fly?”
If these dining room walls could talk, I bet they’d beg Alberto Visconti to shut up.
In the short time I’ve personally known the Viscontis, I’ve learned two things about them. The first, is that they aren’t just a powerful family, they are in fact, the mafia. Cold-hearted, hot-blooded Sicilian-Americans who live and die by the Glocks tucked into the waistbands of their Armani suits. The second, is that whatever they want, they get. Including one ice cube in their lowball glass.
“Oh look, it’s the Good Samaritan.” “I have a name, you know.” “Yeah, yeah, just give us that.” Tor grunts, lunging over and grabbing the bottle from her. “Uh, okay. Um, anything else?” “Yeah, a tetanus shot.”
Fair play to the old bastard—she’s a smoke show for sure. That fucking red dress she’d poured herself into; Jesus, any man with a pulse would get a hard-on at that visual.
Sure, she has all the same components as the others that came before her—blond hair, big tits, and legs as long as a Monday—but she’s definitely different. A smarter mouth.
There’s a glint in his right hand. Then the bang is too loud. The smell of gunpowder too strong, and the taste of blood splatter on my lips too tangy. The bullet enters Max right between the eyes and exits out the back of his skull, taking half his brain with it. His head hits the table with a heavy thud, his blood turning the lace tablecloth crimson.
“Fuck me, brother,” Rafe barks down the aisle. “Do you own any footwear that aren’t steel-capped boots? You stomp around like the Big Bad Wolf from Little Red Riding Hood.” Gabe looms over us like a storm cloud and scowls down at Rafe. “All the better to kick your head in with, my dear,” he growls. “Holy shit, that’s the most I’ve heard you talk all year,” Rafe shoots back with an easy smile. “Good to see you, bro.”
“So, who we got?” I ask. Rafe reaches for the iPad and peers down at the screen. “Phillip Moyers. Some old bastard in Connecticut. Called to confess to a hit and run.” “Big fucking deal,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Out of all the calls you got around to listening to this month, that was the best you could find?” “He was off his tits on coke. Didn’t realize she was wrapped around his bumper until he’d dragged her for three blocks. When he finally heard the screaming, he peeled her off and left her for dead.”
“Let me see. You’re a twenty-one year old virgin who swears using bird puns. The worst thing you’ve done is steal Vittoria’s necklace, and I already knew about that. And yet, your conscience is so heavy you want to throw yourself off a cliff.”
And for the first time since we met, I see her smile. I think I like it when she smiles.
I know what’s got my skin burning up like I have a fever—the thought of spanking my uncle’s fiancee. Maybe I should get laid tonight. Find a blond, curly-haired babe and have her mutter dirty bird puns in my ear.
My eyes dart behind them. “Where’s Uncle Al?” Dante’s gaze darkens. “At home. Probably groping up his jail bait.” He smooths down his shirt and sinks into the chair opposite. “You know, I take care of most things these days. Going forward, you should expect to be dealing with me.” “Did Daddy finally give you keys to the kingdom?” Rafe asks mockingly. “Or did he just lend you a booster seat so you can sit at the table tonight? Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the clock to make sure you don’t miss your curfew.”
But now I know Alberto wants it to hold over his hot, young fiance, there’s not a chance in hell I’d even consider it. I darken my glare and recline in the armchair. “Did you know, there’s thirteen pairs of American Bald Eagles in that park? It’s more than just a few shitty trees and a swamp.” “What do you care?” His eyes thin. “You sound like that bitch Aurora.” Bitch. An unnecessary amount of fury threads through my veins. I wash it down with a gulp of whiskey. “I care about the environment.”
I’m utterly, madly, unacceptably obsessed with Angelo Visconti. My fiance's nephew, near-stranger, and keeper of my darkest secrets. And suddenly, my sin isn’t so funny anymore.
“Aurora.” I come to a reluctant stop and tilt my head to the sky. “I don’t care what Alberto says. Wear your hair curly.”
My uncle’s twenty-one-year-old fiancee emerging from the sea in a tiny black bikini is temptation personified. But her telling me she fingered herself while watching me on the shore? A death sentence.
Birds circle overhead: little blue ones with an annoying chirp. I bet Aurora would know exactly what fucking bird it was. She probably uses its name as a curse word.
“And if you tell Alberto, I swear, I’ll set fire to your car.” I bite back a laugh. “You’ll what now?” “You heard.” “Jeez. Who are you and what have you done with Aurora? It was less than two weeks ago that you were on the verge of tears, begging me not to listen to your secrets.”
How many fucking times this question has been put to me since I touched down on the Coast. And yet, Rory is the only person who will get the truth.
“Because seeing you in your engagement dress is hard enough. But seeing you in your wedding dress?” A growl vibrates deep within me. I tighten my grip. “That’ll be fucking torture.”
But that’s the thing about lines in the sand. Eventually, they wash away, and you can’t remember where you drew them.
“You’re wearing sunglasses too,” I snap back, jerking my chin up to his mirrored Aviators. “What’s your excuse?” “How else am I meant to check out your ass without getting caught?”
“Fuck, Aurora. I love it when you scream for me. It makes me want to spread that perfect pussy and shove my cock inside you and give you something to really scream about.”
“You know, I think I have the matching bra somewhere,” I say dryly. “Uh, yeah. Can I, um, get it back?” “No, it’s a souvenir.” “Of what?” she whispers thickly. “Of the time I almost fucked the hottest girl I’ve ever met.”
Angelo Visconti isn’t a knight in shining armor, he’s a monster in an Armani suit.
“He doesn’t recognize me outside of the forest, Angelo. That’s why it can’t be knocked down, and that’s why we can’t leave. What my father and I have, it doesn’t exist outside of it.”
“Rory?” His thumb pad carves a trail over my jawline. It stops at the corner of my mouth, but I turn my head to catch it between my lips. He lets out a soft moan, watching me, eyes half-lidded with lust, as I slowly lick it. “Yes?” Danger sparking in his eyes, he pushes his thumb further into my mouth, and with wetness pooling between my thighs, I open my mouth wider to take him all in. “Out of all my sins, you’re my favorite.”
“I swear to God, Rory. You better know how to fly, because if you fall, I’m coming with you.”
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’m taking over Devil’s Dip. The Devil’s Preserve is my territory, and Aurora is now my girl. Accept that, and I’ll allow you to keep running shit through my port, and I’ll walk out of here.” I shift my focus to Dante, who still has his gun trained on me. “Hell, I’ll even shake your hand if you’re lucky.”
“So, now you’re stuck with another old man.” “I guess I am.” His gaze flashes. “I’m old enough to be your father. How does that make you feel?” Heart thumping, I feign boredom. Look up at him through my lashes. “Does that mean I can call you daddy now?”
“Shut up, Rory. He left his entire life in England and came back to Devil’s Dip for you. He’s so in love with you that it makes me sick.” “She’s right, I am.”
“Not just regular happy. I mean really fucking happy,” he growls into my mouth, palming my ass to pull me on top of him. “Can’t stop fucking smiling, don’t want to go to sleep because reality is better than your dreams kind of happy. I want to make you so damn happy that you shit sunshine and piss rainbows and people think you’re as high as a kite when you walk into a room.” He nips my lower lip in mild frustration, and his fingers dig deep into the back of my thighs as he slides me up to his groin. “If you want to be mine, I’ll make you that happy, Rory.”
“I’ll show you what it looks like. Now, be a good girl and moan my name while I worship you.”
