Page 224 of Alessio

“Chris is in a different place than me,” Corrado muttered as he eyed a small clip. “That’s all. He came here with intentions that were way different from mine, and they’re catching up to him. It’s not about me, or even him … it just is what it is.”

Alessio tipped his head to the side, considering that. “Because he stayed here for you, and you joined because—”

His words cut off, and he realized then that, in fact, he had no idea why Corrado chose to join The League as a new prospect. He’d never thought to ask. Then again, there was a lot he never asked a guy he now regularly woke up to sleeping next to him in bed, or even, found him waiting for Alessio when he went back to his rooms at night.

It seemed like that was just how the two of them transitioned. All it took was a moment in Alessio’s rooms a month ago, and the next day, shit was different. Or, that’s how it started, with different things between them, until the two of them found a routine that worked for them in their private, quiet moments. They didn’t talk about shit—they just did it. Alessio liked it that way, and he suspected Corrado did, too. Otherwise, they wouldn’t keep doing it.

As for everyone else …

If someone noticed, they didn’t say.

Dare never mentioned it to Alessio, and neither did Cree, but that wasn’t unusual, either. As long as no one was being forced to do something, and it didn’t affect what was happening at The League, they were willing to let whatever happen.

“Why’d you stop talking?” Corrado asked.

“I just realized, I never asked you why you joined.”

Sure, he heard the things Corrado’s father said in Dare’s office that first night. Corrado and his twin had made passing comments. But he never outright asked, and got the information from Corrado.

“And you know, that there’s a lot of other shit I don’t ask you about you … or your life away from here,” Alessio added.

Corrado looked up from the table again. “You want my life story, or …?”

He gave him a look.

Corrado replied in kind.

Rolling his eyes, Alessio muttered, “It was just a thought, that’s all.”

Corrado went back to work, seemingly pleased with himself when he found the right barrel for a specific body piece he’d been tinkering with for a couple of minutes. “Ha, fucking piece of shit, I got it.”

Alessio smirked to himself. “Start with why you joined, then.”

“Because I don’t fit in anywhere else, and this seemed like the right place to figure out what I was made of without ruining my family’s legacy, too.”

“What?”

Corrado shook his head. “Cosa Nostra, what Guzzis are, is not a good fit for me and my … lifestyle, as they would call it. Like it’s a fucking choice that I like to fuck guys and girls. They act like you wake up this way, and decide yes, I am going to like both.”

“Who said it would ruin a legacy to be bi? That sounds dramatic.”

“The mafia is a lot of things—ragingly homophobic is sometimes one of them. Not so much my blood, but others … people around them. It would be bad for the people I do care about, and I just never felt like I fit in.”

Ah.

Alessio scoffed under his breath, thinking how ridiculous that sounded. “Being bi never ruined anything for me.”

“You’re not one of us, either.”

Okay, that stung a little.

Not because Corrado was wrong, but because he also wasn’t right. That pendulum swung both ways, and Alessio’s mouth worked to tell the man exactly that before he would think better of it.

“Not that you know, but I’m the illegitimate son of Maximo Sorrento.” Alessio saw the way Corrado’s shoulders tensed at those words, and he almost wanted to laugh at the sight, but he held back. “Yeah, now you get it, huh? Maximo, who went mad before he died … who almost ran his whole organization into the ground after having a stronghold on Vegas for decades. That’s my father, and you can be sure there are enough people who didn’t want to let me forget it, either.”

He expected Corrado knew exactly who he was talking about, if only because Maximo, like Corrado’s father, were bosses—or Alessio’s father was before his death—of major Cosa Nostra crime families. That meant, business often exchanged hands between families when Italians were known for being distrustful to organizations beyond their own.

Corrado cleared his throat, still staring at the table. “Sorry.”