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Sadie Sorento and Brandon Avenetti were destined to be together. Their families were already planning the wedding of the Italian mafia prince and princess long before the pair had even star...
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I've pictured this moment at least ten thousand times over the last eight years.
What it would be like to see Sadie again. To hear her voice. To touch her.
Sometimes, it's explosive–fireworks and sparks and cheers from the crowd as we ride off into the sunset. Everything is right in the world again and there's a hungry and desperation between us even stronger than before. But sometimes I'm still angry. Still bitter about the way she left. Still wanting her to hurt the way I did. To make her explain why she had so selfishly left like our family meant nothing to her, like I meant nothing to her. Most times, I was the same heartbroken and confused teenager I had been on the day she left--the wound still fresh and her return only rubbing salt in it.
Yeah, I had had plenty of time to visualize how this moment would go, but never in my wildest dreams, though, did it involve Sadie showing up out of the blue in a sinfully skimpy Brodo uniform, claiming she was here to be Alex's new bartender. I know her better than that. There's about as much truth to that as there is to us being involved in her parents' attack, but none of that mattered to her. She didn't wait long enough to let anyone explain, and that's what hurt the worst.
"I'll handle it from here, Dante." I growl, never taking my eyes off of Sadie. She purses her lips, curious as to what exactly I mean by that. Maybe it's the way I've hardened since she last knew me, but I enjoy watching her squirm. Most people wouldn't catch on to it through her tough exterior, but I make my living reading people, and I'm even better at it with Sadie than most. It's been that way since we were toddlers, and apparently time hasn't changed it.
"Yes, boss." Dante diverts his eyes as he heads for the door, both embarrassed and irritated at my rebuke.
"Oh, and Dante," I whirl around so we're face to face, cinching my hand around his scrawny neck and slamming him to the wall. "If I ever catch you treating Sadie, or any woman, like that ever again, I'll slit your mouth from ear to ear. And you can tell all the men that same thing. Are we clear?"
Sadie gasps behind me, stepping away like she's afraid.
Dante's eyes widen, frantically nodding and scurrying away when I let him go. I don't tolerate that shit from the best of my men, and Dante is nowhere near that.
He shuts the door with a heavy thud as he leaves, and I turn slowly back to Sadie.
"You didn't need to do that, Brandon." She glares, as if I'm the one in the wrong, and I bite back my laughter. She's been here all of sixty seconds and is already bossing me around.
"I didn't do it for you. Dante knows that that kind of shit won't fly around here."
"Oh." Her eyes fall to the ground as she sways back and forth. It's a small movement, but I notice, just like I do all things considering Sadie.
"Jesus, Sadie." I shove my fingers through my hair in pure frustration. "What the fuck are you even doing here?"
Her silence is almost more than I can take right now. She thinks she can show up here in my bar without the slightest explanation? Without explaining herself? As if it hasn't been eight fucking years since I've seen or heard from her?
