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Alessio looked pissed.
“It’ll be fun. He’s a former prize boxer turned attorney causing trouble for the Camorra.”
“We’re not in it for the fun but because Massimo wants to keep you in check. We’re your babysitters.”
I grinned. “Good luck.”
The night had been rough—rougher than usual. Our victim had escaped because I had a sick penchant for hunting and had allowed him to run. We almost hadn’t found him.
Massimo sent me a disapproving look. Even with sunglasses covering his eyes, I knew that was what it was from the downward tilt of his mouth and even sharper contours of his cheeks. He was royally pissed at me. He would never risk one of our targets getting away. Not because the police would arrest us—our fathers would get us out immediately—but because our parents weren’t fond of our nightly adventures. Especially if the victims weren’t pre-approved.
When Dad had caught us last time, he’d threatened to split Alessio, Massimo, and me apart and send us to work for Underbosses in different states.
The hunt had been fun, though, even if it took until the early morning hours.
“You know she’s checking you out again?” Alessio said in a bored tone. Like Massimo, he was stretched out on the lounge chair beside mine, with dark glasses over his eyes.
“Who?”
“Aurora.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the spot where Carlotta and Aurora tanned on sun lounger at the other end of the pool. Aurora was indeed looking my way, a glass clutched in one hand, but she quickly jerked her head around, then casually looked back and gave me a forced smile. She didn’t notice her glass tipping over and spilling its ice-cold contents all over her front. She let out a shocked scream and dropped the glass—luckily unbreakable thanks to Kiara’s overprotective nature—on the ground, so it spilled its remaining contents everywhere. Her drink had been red—probably some awfully sweet fruit concoction—and left red splatters all over her white bikini. It was the first time I saw her in a bikini. Up until this point, she’d worn bathing suits or swim trunks and tank tops.
Of course, it would gothis way.
Aurora jumped up from her sun lounger, probably to clean up. Her breasts bounced up and down in the triangle bikini top. She filled it out nicely, and the red juice trailing down the valley between her breasts reminded me of blood, which made the sight even more appealing. I dragged my eyes away before my thoughts got carried away. I’d spilled blood last night, and Rory was off-limits.
“It looks as if you got a visit from Aunt Flo,” her younger brother Davide cackled, pointing at her ass. The back of her bikini bottom was indeed red in a very compromising way.
Aurora glanced my way, her face turning beet red. Despite her tan, her naturally pale skin blushed easily and very frequently. Pressing her lips together, she whirled around, her blond ponytail whipping through the air before she rushed over to the house with a mumbled, “I’ll get a mop.”
Carlotta, who’d watched everything with a concerned look, followed her, as could be expected.
Massimo watched her leave with intense interest. She wasn’t in a bikini. Of course not. Yet the modest bathing suit didn’t seem to diminish Massimo’s fascination in the slightest.
“They won’t return soon. Aurora will probably cry, and Carlotta will give her a pep talk. Give it an hour,” I said.
Aurora was amazing with a skateboard and athletic skills in general, but she had a horrible talent that made her a complete fool of herself around me. Greta thought it was because she had a crush on me. Iknewit was the case. The problem was Aurora liked a version of me that was pretty much only the PG version. But the real Nevio wasn’t even R-rated. A movie about me would be banned because of excess violence and craziness.
Massimo frowned. “I don’t care when they return.”
Alessio scoffed. “He wasn’t talking aboutthem.”
“I wish it had been blood that would have elevated a pitiful display to a slightly entertaining one,” I mused as I stretched out again with my arms crossed under my head.
Alessio released a sigh. “Don’t mess up.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I have absolutely no interest in Rory. She reeks of innocence. Her clumsiness even triggers my protective side. It’s not sexy. I don’t do pity fucks.”
“You don’t do pity anything,” Alessio muttered. “As long as she doesn’t accidentally fall on your dick, everything’s good.”
“It’s more likely that I accidentally fuck you in the ass, asshole, all right?”
“Then my cyclone knife is going to impale you.”
I shrugged. “That’ll only get me off sooner. Pain and pleasure, nothing beats that.”
Massimo got up from his chair with a shake of his head. “I need to clear my head. Every second of your nonsense talking makes me feel dumber.”
