Our conversation was cut short by my impatient brother, and I sighed as I answered the call.
“Pronto,Boss.”
“How did it go?”
“Pretty well, all things considered,” I replied, as I pulled out Aria’s stolen lipstick and rolled it between my fingers.
“What does that mean? Did you speak to Caruso?”
“Si. He went in harder than I expected, but his daughter is definitely his weakness. Her name’s Arianna Caruso, and she works as a night administrator at the hospital.”
And I’m slightly obsessed with the way she moans for me.
“Was threatening her enough to make him drop this?”
I sighed, rolled up the lipstick, and checked the name of the colour. Stoned Rose. Pretty. I brought it to my nose and inhaled. It smelt like fuck all. But just seeing its softened shape, knowing it had skated across those full lips countless times, made me groan.
“Sani?”
“No. It wasn’t enough tonight. It needs action, not words.”
“And what action are you planning to take?” Gio exhaled. We had only one rule we stood by in our family: never harm innocent women or children. But Caruso didn’t know that. I’d never threaten Arianna’s life, even with empty words. I had a different plan. A smirk tugged at my lips, knowing Caruso would do everything he could to keep his daughter away from me and fail miserably.
“I’ll make sure he believes she’s in my sights until he agrees to work with us. But I’ll also be discreet and subtle. I won’t get caught doing anything he can use against me.”
“Discreet and subtle are not your strengths, Sani. Can you handle this?” Gio asked. “The last thing we need is the mayor’s daughter filing a restraining orderagainst you.”
I scoffed.Not in this lifetime.
“Fratello, have faith. I’ve got this.”
After our call, I checked the profiles Nero had sent over of my little rebel and the man she’d been with at the hotel. He turned out to be one of Piero’s bodyguards called Damiano, and not her dickhead ex, which was a little disappointing because I would have liked to have known where he lived so I could pay him a visit. But at least I had the most important details on Aria: her place of work, her address, full name, and phone number. She’d been living in Italy for nearly five years. She’d lived at two addresses during that time, and I’d put money on the first being her father’s.
I spent the rest of the night pacing my apartment, thinking and devising scheming plans, while casually flipping my knife open and closed. Ensuring Arianna fell for me while also threatening her father enough for him to abandon the investigation wouldn’t be easy. But nothing in life that comes easily is worth having. It’s the things you have to pour your soul into, give everything to achieve, that reap the most rewards. I glanced down at the broken antique Rolex on my wrist and smiled.
Arianna was on the right side of the law. But so was mymammaonce—until she metPapi.One chance encounter, when she had to represent mypapias his lawyer against the murder charges he faced, changed her life forever.Mammaalways said that from the moment they locked eyes over that bolted metal table, she became his. And he knew it, too.
It wasn’t something you could explain, only feel. The split-second realisation of your truth staring back at you. The kind that tears away all reason and leaves nothing but certainty.Mammaalways said you only get that one-of-a-kind love once in your life if you’re lucky, and when you find it, you never let it go. Even though she had found happiness and security with Marco afterPapi’sdeath, it was a different love. A gentle and supportive love she needed after what she had been through. But Vincenzo Buccini would always remain her soulmate.
Standing across from Arianna in that ballroom tonight, like a man staring at the one thing he was never meant to touch, I finally knew how mypapimust have felt that day. Because Aria might be on the right side of the law, but she was already mine.
Bouquets and Bad Ideas
Ispent the next two days and nights at mypapi’s house. Partly because he insisted on it until all my security measures and the bodyguards had been assigned and briefed on the protocol, but also because, well... I was freaking out.
The man I’d been fantasising about, the man who’d had his hands all over my body, his head between my legs, and I’d come all over his fingers on a public balcony at my bloody work event, was a gangster.
Agangster.Just my luck.
And according to my father, a downright ruthless one. Santino Buccini was the younger brother of Giovanni Buccini, one of Italy’s most dangerous and powerful men. Oh, and his brother-in-law was THE Alessio Barbieri. No one could touch them. To the rest of the world, they were successful entrepreneurs who practically turned everything they touched to gold. They had ventures in nearly every sector of Italian society: restaurants, hotels, malls, a fashion label, art galleries, wineries, security, agriculture, and even legal firms. Yes, legal firms. What the hell. Apparently, irony was alive and thriving in Italy.
My father believed they had their hands wrapped around the throats of some of the biggest players. Law enforcement, judges, politicians, senators, CEOs, and the paparazzi. They played everyone like puppets. You name it, and somehow, the Barbieri or Buccini name would be linked to it.
Santino Buccini moved from Verona to Rome and took control of the capital a few years ago. The previous mayor was in his pocket, being bribed, spoiled, and blinded while the Buccinis ran their empire right under his nose. But unfortunately for them, Mayor Russo died of a heart attack two years ago, and my father won the next campaign.
I shook my head with my teeth clenched, glancing through the millionth online article I’d come across about Santino Buccini. Every single one portrayed him in a positive light. He gave to charities; he helped at food banks and attended grand openings with stunning women on his arm. He made himself out to be a god and Rome his creation. I squinted at his alluring smirk, his perfect black hair andsquare jawline. Why were the most handsome men the biggest liars?
My father refused to go into any details about what Santino was capable of, but I could tell by the way he was so shaken and afraid for my life that he was no saint. I slammed my laptop shut and closed my eyes. Immediately, memories of his face, his touch, and his words tormented me and caused my stomach to somersault. I forced my eyes back open. Urgh, that was the worst part. I’d been played by him so effortlessly. He must have known who I was the moment I walked into his hotel. He’d found a way to get to me, toy with me, and humiliate me.
