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“Well, Zio T said I can have whatever I want.”
“Last I checked, I’m your mother, not Zio T, which means I make the rules. No more ice cream for breakfast. Come on, I had your laptop sent over. You have schoolwork to do.”
“Argh, I don’t feel well. I should lie down for a bit.”
“Nice try. Not happening.” I stand to deposit the plates in the sink when a maid appears out of thin air.
“I can take care of that, Ms. Donatello.”
I’m shocked that she knows my name, but don’t question it. I offer her a polite smile. “Grazie,” I say, grabbing Izzy’s hand and walking out of the kitchen.
* * *
I’m sitting with Izzy on the bed—yes, I caved and let her stay in bed all day. I’m still making her do schoolwork though. I have my own laptop open as I collate files on every man in T’s organization. Weeding them out one by one. Thankfully the Valentino side is smaller than my father’s, so there aren’t as many men to run through. My checks don’t stop at the men though. No, I’m thorough. I check out their whole family: wives, children, cousins. Nobody escapes my oversight.
What exactly am I looking for?
Abnormalities, anything out of the ordinary. Debts, unusual deposits of money. Any family ties outside the organization. I comb through phone records, bank transfers, hack into their emails. By the time I’m done, I’ve sifted through every intimate detail there is to know. I have a map of the men: from T and his underboss, right down to each known associate of the family. The biggest question mark is the underboss. The enigma that is Neo Valentino.
Who the hell is this guy, and why are my eyes constantly drawn to his photo on my screen?
There’s something about him that I just can’t put my finger on. Not to mention, it’s pissing me the hell off that I can’t find a trace of information on the man. It’s like he doesn’t exist. I’ve never been locked out of intel before, but Neo? I can’t so much as find a credit card transaction he’s completed at McDonald’s.
I’ve found his bank accounts, or what appear to be his bank accounts. The number of zeros tells me he’s not in need of selling out my brother anytime soon. Or ever. What’s strange is the fact that there are no withdrawals being made. How does the guy live? That’s the other thing. I can’t find a damn address. I thought I had one a few days ago, when I made the forty-minute trek to the middle of nowhere, but all I found was an old rundown cottage with an elderly couple living inside.
You know that saying:Speak of the devil and he doth appear. This is more a case of:Thinkof the devil and he appears. Just like when the snake tempted Eve with beauty and promises of deliciousness, Neo’s doing the same to me. Disguised in the form of a six-foot-something, bulked-out, tattooed-up Italian made man. Dark eyes that speak my language, and an even darker soul hiding behind that panty-soaking smirk he wears.
Neo-cazzo-Valentino, in all his gorgeous glory, stands in the doorway of the bedroom where Izzy and I have taken up residence.
What did I ever do to deserve this torture. The torture of having to be in this man’s presence and fight every carnal instinct I have to rip his clothes from his chiseled frame. Even my body count doesn’t warrant this kind of punishment.
Because no matter how badly I might want a bite, I’m not Eve. I’m not weak and I will not give in to temptation that’ll only lead to disappointment and heartache.
Chapter Five
Why am I here? I should have gone home when T turned up and took over dealing with his lunatic of a wife. Don’t get me wrong. I love Holly like a fucking sister, but she fucking pulled a gun on me. She’s lucky it was somewhat more amusing for me to go with her on her errands than it was to just disarm her and carry her ass back upstairs for her husband to deal with.
The fact that I managed to get on T’s nerves in the process? Even better. The fucker is wound so tight I’m afraid he’s going to snap any moment now. Trust me, the world is a fucking better place if we prevent that from happening.
I currently find myself standing in the doorway of Angelica’s room, looking at the most mesmerizing image. And I can’t decide if I want to keep it locked away tight. Forever. Or if I want to put it on a damn billboard in the middle of Times Square, with the heading MINE scrawled across the top. But then I’d only have to blow up the whole of Broadway and 7thbecausetheyare fucking mine, and I’ve never been good at sharing what’s mine.
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to stare?” Angelica asks, her tone snappy as fuck.
I smile. “My mother taught me to appreciate the beautiful things in life.” I lift a shoulder, like that’s all the answer I need to give as to why I’m standing in the doorway of her bedroom, staring at her and her daughter, who I’ve yet to properly meet.
“My mama is very beautiful, isn’t she?” the little girl says.
“She is, but do you know what else is beautiful in this room?” I ask as I enter and sit on the end of the bed, my sole focus on the child who is a spitting image of her mother.
“What?”
“You,bella. I don’t think there is a girl in this country as beautiful as you are. I think Uncle T’s gonna need a bigger arsenal.” I laugh, imagining just how crazy he’ll be once this little girl hits her teens.
“Oh, we have a huge arsenal at home. I already know how to shoot five different guns. How many can you shoot?”
My eyebrows rise in question at Angelica. Why the fuck is she teaching a fucking child how to shoot guns? A little fucking girl! She should be playing with dolls and shit, dressing up and having tea parties, and all that nonsense. Not fucking shooting weapons.
“Izzy, iPad, headphones. Now!” Angelica hands her daughter the headphones before she slams her laptop closed and glares at me, which has my cock hardening and begging to push between her clenched lips. Which probably isn’t the effect she’s going for, judging by the way she stands and wraps her hand around my arm, pulling me to my feet then proceeding to shove me out the door.
