Vengeance.
It's something I've been taught as the son of a cruel mafia don; something I've comforted myself with for years.
When the one thing that kept me grounded is yanked away so ruthlessly, it's only in my nature to strike out in the only way...
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"Ma insists she wants me to get married because you finally got tied down. I don't know about you, but I have no intentions of getting married," Matteo grumbled.
"Maybe a woman would do good for your ass," I said with a smirk.
Matteo's biggest fear was commitment. No one knew why, but whenever his mother held conversations revolving around marriage, he fled the room.
I didn't have to look up from my phone to know he had a horrified look on his face. "No, no, no. Don't you dare tell my mother that. She's inviting you and Giselle over for dinner, and I'd be damned if I let you ruin things for me."
I snorted. "What about Enzo? Your Ma isn't pressing him for a wife?"
Enzo and Matteo were one of my many cousins, but I was closer to them than the others. They were the only ones closer to my age.
That and the fact that I pissed my other uncles off when I put a bullet between my father's eyes at a family meeting. I knew I wouldn't be invited to family dinners soon.
"Enzo has flat-out ignored Ma. He doesn't come to family dinners anymore, and she begged him the last time before he came. She doesn't pester him anymore because of that."
"Well, then maybe you should do the same."
"I've been thinking the same, but she'll probably figure it out, and crack down harder on me."
Forget the fact that we were coldhearted killers. Our mothers always had a chokehold on us. Well, mine did before she passed away a few years before my father did. I didn't have that familial responsibility now.
Giselle.
I tightened my jaw when her name drifted into my head. I had no responsibility toward her except to keep her safe, and that had more to do with me than her. It'd be a slap on the face if something happened to her under my care.
Like I'd conjured the woman, she waltzed into the kitchen dressed in a pair of shorts and cropped tank, with a smile on her face. The smile wasn't directed at me, though. She'd rip off her head before she smiled at me.
I couldn't help it. My eyes wandered down her body the same way every man with a pulse and a pair of eyes would.
She filled her clothes with her generous curves, from her tits down to her wide hips and plump ass. She was only two years younger than me, and puberty had hit her hard.
Gone was the squeamish teenager with glasses and braces who wore baggy clothes to hide her body. In her stead was a woman comfortable in her skin.
I cut my gaze away from her before she could notice I was staring. I shouldn't be staring.
"Hi. I saw you at the wedding," she said, holding her hand out to Matteo. "I'm Elle."
"Matteo." He gave her hand a firm shake before releasing her hand. "Heard you got yourself into trouble yesterday."
