More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Made men know love doesn’t exist.
Visconti men in particular don’t fall in love. Because falling suggests it was accidental, and everything this family does is cold and calculated.
The death of my father marks a new era for the Cosa Nostra, and it starts with me. The new capo of Devil’s Dip.
“I can’t wait to see what you do, Vicious. You’re going to make your father proud.”
As I pass, I slap a brick of notes against his muddy chest. “Dig her up,” I growl. “My mama doesn’t belong here.”
“You hoping to fall, or fly?”
“Suicide is a sin,” he rasps, his stubble grazing my cheek. “But Devil’s Dip has a way of making you want to throw yourself over the edge, doesn’t it?”
“You have reached Sinners Anonymous,” a woman’s robotic voice says. “Please leave your sin after the tone.”
“This wife is special,” Alberto huffs, his arm clamping me to his lap like a safety belt. “She’s a virgin.”
“Heavy enough to weigh you down.” My eyes lift to his. “Excuse me?”
“Your ring. It looks heavy enough to weigh you down if you choose to fall.”
“Snooping is a sin, Aurora.”
“Aurora, what the hell—” “Let go of me,”
Suddenly, the doors swing open and Angelo strolls in.
“Well what?” “You thought about what I said?”
“The only way I’ll touch you is when I put my hands around your throat and choke you in your sleep.”
Instead, he’s staring right at me, his hands clenched into fists on either side of his untouched plate.
Once I acclimate to the chill of his gaze, I realize what he sees. Me and Max, shoulder to shoulder, heads huddled and having a private, heated conversation at the end of the table.
“Aurora. Stand up.”
“Perfect. Now, take three steps to the left.”
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.
“I was going to say, unattractive.”
“I’m not a whore.” “You’re not unattractive, either.”
“What the hell does he have over you?”
“Do you like being bad?” Our gazes clash. I give a slow, small nod. He releases a puff of air through his parted lips and rakes his fingers through his hair.
“Are you going to insist on coming with me?” “You’re a bad girl; you can handle it.”
He’s tricked Aurora into believing the preserve is his territory, and he’s dangling it over her head as an excuse to get between her legs.
My mind goes to a darker place: if she’s marrying Alberto because she thinks it’ll save her precious nature reserve. What would she do for me if I told her I was the one with the real power? Static travels the length of my cock. Fuck.
My moral compass: it’s as weak as a house of cards, and if Aurora lets out one more fucking breath like that, she’ll blow it down.
“I’ll take her to Devil’s Dip every Wednesday and Saturday.”
“What?” “Your fiancee. I’ll take her to see her father.”
As I pass, I slip the key between my thumb and forefinger and drag it along the driver’s side of Alberto’s Roll’s Royce Phantom.
And for the first time since we met, I see her smile. I think I like it when she smiles.
“What’s your type, cugino?” Curly-haired and unavailable.
I know what’s got my skin burning up like I have a fever—the thought of spanking my uncle’s fiancee.
“He wants the records for any calls made to Sinners Anonymous on the coast. Me taking out that dumb lackey over Sunday lunch gave him the idea. He seems to think it’ll help weed out traitors and gain intel on business partners.”
In the car ride back to Alberto’s house yesterday, she let me believe she was different, even just for a moment. She let me believe she wasn’t like all the other girls in Dip, just looking for a Visconti paycheck. That her motive for marrying a man three times her age was completely altruistic.
“Vicious Visconti is back,” he murmurs in my ear.
Maybe Vicious never really left.
“Those silly little shoes of yours are very…inappropriate.”
“You keep my secret—I’ll keep yours.” “All of them?”
“Watch me.” As if I ever do anything else these days.
“How would you feel if you found your fiancee in a dark corner, sharing a cigarette with a handsome man?”
“You think I’m handsome.”
“Don’t get too excited. I usually wear glasses.”
He keyed his uncle’s car because of that kiss.
“Tell me a sin, Aurora.”
“Is this what it’s going to be like now?” I rasp. “Me drip-feeding you sins so you don’t listen to the ones I dialed in?”
“Every time he makes me kiss him like that, I spit in his whiskey.”
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.
