Page 131 of The Don’s Omega

“What do you think of Fabio?” he asks.

“Seems like a nice kid. Quiet.”

“Very quiet. I tried talking to him on the way here,” Carlo says. “He wasn’t very talkative. One-word responses at best.”

I smirk. “Did you try to charm him and it didn’t work?”

He laughs. “Kind of, yeah. I used all my best lines and it was like crickets. He just wasn’t interested in talking to me.”

“Huh.” I study the amber liquid in my tumbler. “Normally you can charm the pants off of anyone you meet.”

“Right?” He shakes his head. “It didn’t work on him.”

“Well, it might be because Elio was honest with him.”

He glances over, brow wrinkled. “Honest about what?”

I shrug. “Just that we’re mafia. I don’t think he approves of our… lifestyle.”

“Hmmm, maybe that’s it. But that lifestyle is what paid for his surgery. He should be more grateful.”

“Give him time. He’s probably in shock and that’s why he’s so standoffish.”

Carlo is quiet for a moment, then says, “Too bad he wasn’t more receptive. He’s sexy in a night of the living-dead kind of way.”

I laugh. “Excuse me? What does that mean?”

He grins. “You know what I mean.”

I snort a laugh. “Uh, no, I have no idea what you mean.”

“I just mean he’s waifish and pale like a vampire. I’m kind of digging his vampy vibe.”

“Oh, yeah? You want him to suck your blood?”

His grin widens. “I’d let him suck whatever he wants.”

I laugh, but then sit up and glance around nervously. “Shut the fuck up, Carlo. You can’t talk that way about Elio’s brother. He’ll murder us both.”

Wincing, he covers his mouth and mumbles, “Shit. You’re right.”

“Just forget about Fabio,” I warn. “Steer clear of him. I don’t need Elio pissed that you seduced his little brother. Jesus. Keep it in your pants or Elio might divorce me.”

He rests his head against the back of his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay, okay, I’ll be a good boy.”

“Better be.” I shake my head. “Because God himself won’t be able to save you if you’re foolish enough to deflower Elio’s little brother.”

Chapter Eighteen

Elio

Everything Fabio brought from Millhaven hangs off him now, jeans sliding down his hips, shirts bagging on him. He won’t ask me to buy him anything, so I decide to treat him. He’s not really up to shopping though, which means I’ll have to go it alone. Hopefully my taste will match with his.

Dante parks near the waterfront shops, and I find a store that’s modern without being pretentious. I pick out jeans, shirts, a couple of sweaters, a jacket for the weather that’s coming. I also grab a dark blue pullover that would look good against his coloring. While I find Marcello’s mobster lifestyle disconcerting, I can admit it’s nice to shop without having to nervously check my bank balance first.

By some miracle, the girl at the counter has no idea who I am. She allows me to actually pay for the clothes I’m buying. I’m relieved. I don’t like taking things for free from these smaller shops. I know they see nothing wrong with lavishing Marcello’s omega with free things, but I didn’t grow up that way and it makes me uncomfortable.

I’m coming out of the store with my bags when I hear my name. I turn to find Salvatore on the sidewalk outside a café next door to the clothing shop. He’s in a camel overcoat, newspaper under his arm. His face splits into a smile when our eyes meet.