Page 9 of One Filthy Kiss

“Bianca.”

“Life must be dull, Gio, for you to play along.” She peers at me from behind her sunglasses. Even without them, my sister’s eyes would give nothing away. “Or were you expecting someone else?”

The server arrives with an espresso and a glass of iced water for me, requested by Ric. I wait for him to leave before raising the coffee cup to my lips.

“What do you want, Bianca?”

“I heard my brother was in LA and I thought I’d check out his latest venture.” She pauses to suck on the straw. “As it was acquired with the family’s money.”

I’m instantly reminded of why we spend so little time in each other’s company. Bianca learned to harness her bitterness when she was forced to marry Mario, the heir to a rival Sicilian family. She’d always known that marriage was her destiny—it’s a mafia princess’s lot. My sister wasn’t raised on fairy tales and happy-ever-after, but somewhere along the way, she imagined a future for herself carved from an entirely different tree.

One in which she got to have a say in how the family business is run.

A queen rather than a princess.

I’ve no idea where I slotted into this parallel universe. Perhaps we’d have shared the reins. Or perhaps Bianca intended to rewrite our family’s code, the rules that have existed forgenerations, and mold them into something wholly unrecognizable.

We’ll never know.

“Mymoney.” I follow her gaze and watch the foamy waves caressing the shore. The low sunshine sprinkling diamonds across the ocean.

It is nothing like Sicily, and yet, if I close my eyes, I could be sitting in a bar overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Familiar accents growing louder and more boisterous as the coffee is replaced by locally pressed wine. The smell of ripe tomatoes cooked in spices and olive oil reminding me of my grandparents’ home.

“My business.” I down the double-shot of coffee.

It does nothing to settle the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach; I can’t shake the feeling that the kiss has started a domino effect over which I have no control, and I am not used to events falling outside of my remit.

She sips her iced coffee. I hear her silence:

This isn’t what our parents wanted. Papa didn’t work every hour God sent for his eldest son to cut his siblings out of the business. Family first, last, and always.

“What happened to you, Gio?” she asks gently. “What happened to the little boy who collected football cards and swam like a dog and always found the juiciest olives?”

“He grew up.”

I don’t know if these images are a vivid constant in her mind or if she drags them out whenever we meet to score points. They serve as another reminder that I’ve locked my own memories away. Memories of a childhood that ended abruptlywhen our parents died in a car crash fifteen years ago, on the island they called home.

Sicily.

“Is that what you call it?” she asks. “Growing up.”

I study her profile. The chiffon scarf wrapped around her neck barely covers the bruises. There are more bruises on the inside of her wrists, mottled blue-green, fading gradually. Her lips are swollen. Not plumped up using artificial fillers, they’re ravaged.

Mario is an animal. Our parents knew of his reputation when they arranged their daughter’s marriage to him. There were arguments, raised voices, slammed doors. But our mom knew that this was one fight she would never win. Now, it seems the animal is growing into a beast with an insatiable appetite for cruelty.

I promised my father that I would never touch the Falzone family. They are better allies than they are enemies, and Bianca has given birth to the next Falzone heir. But I will not sit back and allow him to use my sister as a punching bag.

I won’t touch him. But I will make sure that when my men break his knuckles, he knows why.

“What would you call it?” I swallow the desire to settle our checks and get out of here. She is still my sister.

Bianca covers my hand with hers. Her fingernails are painted the same mint green as her pantsuit with tiny diamantes sparkling on the tips. She has to get something out of the marriage, for her sanity. For her children’s sake.

“I’d call it allowing your heart to harden. Don’t shut us out,Gio. I miss you. Enzo misses you too. Do you even know what our little brother is doing with his life these days?”

I try to recall the last time I saw Enzo. It’s been a while.

“Cultivating his playboy reputation?”