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Our little story is one of desire mixed with contempt, a dangerous elixir I have no business tasting.
“You’ll stay at the guest house.” I shout orders to soldiers. “Rocco, Vito. Escort her. Disobey, and I’ll chop you up piece by fucking piece and feed you to the dogs.”
Their faces grow white as bone. They hear the truth in that threat. After all, I’m capable of doing far worse.
Her small fingers clutch mine, quivering but strong in their desperation. Her wide eyes lift, those green flames pleading, Don’t leave me. The caress sears through my skin and crawls under my ribs, where nothing ever should.
For a heartbeat, the room vanishes.
My control claws back into place, dragging me from the edge before I fall. “You’ll be safe.” My voice comes out quieter than intended. Then I call for Gio. “Stay close. Report everything.”
She whispers, “thank you,” as they pull her away. Just two harmless syllables that still sink deeper than any blade ever has.
The villa greets me with grandeur soaked in rot. Wealth that was carved from blood, polished marble, glowing chandeliers, and glaring portraits of Benedetti patriarchs.
Dinner stretches across long tables dressed with silver and wine. The family gathers, tense as coiled snakes. Though instinct urges me to disappear and melt back into shadow, Nonna Rosa’s voice cuts through.
Wrapped in black silk, she leans on her cane like a queen on a scepter, her silver hair piled high. “Enzo. You are family. Sit.”
I can’t refuse Nonna Rosa. She was the closest thing I had to a mother after mine died, the woman who saw Dante in me and loved me anyway. Her kiss lands on my cheek, her eyes fierce with command masked as love.
Izzy makes room, her perfume heavy as she intentionally brushes her silk against my arm.
I start to report, but Gabi slams the fist of tradition down. “No business at dinner. That was Father’s rule.” His smirk pierces. “Funny how loyal Enzo was to my father considering he’s so disobedient to me.”
The mockery is deliberate. He wants a reaction.
Silence swallows my response, and rage burns under my ribs. “Then small talk.” Gabi lifts his glass. “Surely, we can manage that without bloodshed.”
Izzy’s wicked smile tilts. “Maybe we can chat about how you play don now, Gabi, when you used to play nothing but games with women and whiskey.”
Everyone at the table stiffens.
Gabi leans forward, his grin feral. “Speaking of games, do you still mourn Enzo here? You wore him like a crown once. He threw you off fast, though. Didn’t you, Ricci?” His eyes sparkle with the pleasure of humiliating his sister.
Izzy smirks and pretends to laugh, but her manicured hand slides beneath the table, her nails pressing against my thigh.
I just can’t bring myself to give a fuck about the hurt flickering in her eyes.
Gabi swirls his wine, his eyes glittering with malice. “Tell me, Enzo. Did fucking my sister feel any different? I can’t believe she has anything special in her pussy. Does she?”
Several pairs of eyes slide to me.
My fork drops. I’m seconds from tearing the smirk off Gabi’s face. Don or not. Nonna Rosa’s ancient, commanding voice demands order. “Enough.” The reprimand stills even Gabi. Nonna Rosa’s gaze burns until he lowers his eyes.
The meal drags on, but venom lingers in the air. Rivalry has roots too deep to pull.
Later, on the balcony, smoke curls. Gabi drags the cigar between his lips, exhaling poison into the night the way his father used to, the man’s ghost in every puff.
“The girl knows nothing.” I inject boredom into my voice as I give my report. “Not of accounts. Not of Vincent’s trail.”
His face hardens. “Then she’s useless. Vincent murdered my father. Your brother too. If she can’t give answers, she dies.”
The words grind bone as fury rages through me. “She deserves more time. She isn’t him.”
Gabi’s eyes narrow, his suspicion sharpening. “You grow soft. Or worse. Perhaps you forget your brother’s blood. Or maybe you forget your oath.”
My jaw locks tight, and silence becomes my shield for the defiance I can’t speak aloud. Loyalty to the family wars with a deep refusal to hurt her, and that refusal feels like a significant betrayal.
