AllFreeNovel
Share Us
SASHA
Asshole.
That’s all he’s been since I said two measly little words to him in front of an officiant on an Atlantic City beach two and a half years ago. It probably didn’t help that he woke up the next morning to find that I’d fled after waking, realizing the magnitude of what we had done.
We’re from different cultures; same lifestyle, so to speak, but very different upbringings. He’s from the wrong side of the tracks, or I am, depending on whose side you’re pulling for. It doesn’t matter that we’re both Americans or that we’re both red-blooded New Yorkers. Our families have been at war since before I was born. The only people we hate more than the Italian Mafia are the dirty scumbags of the Irish Mob.
Cormac Fitzgerald—the current boss of the Irish American gang that resides in New York City—is likely the one and only thing my father and I agree on in our disdain for the piece of shit.
Ren’s dad, Antonio Caputo, isn’t a bad guy in the terms that make up one in my opinion, at least not that I’ve heard. He’s tamer in comparison to most bosses, no matter their cultural background.
Still, what we did has consequences. I was mad at my father and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I rarely think with a level head when it comes to Mischa Nikolayev. He’s ruthless, heartless, and a dictator. He ran my mother off when I was eight and Krishna eleven. We weren’t allowed to live with her, and she didn’t once fight for us, so fuck her too.
Eloping with Ren wasn’t solely to throw the marriage in my father’s face, even if I cowered out after it was done. Lorenzo has been a fixture in my life since we were small kids playing on a playground at school, none the wiser of our families’ deep-rooted hatred for each other. My infatuation with Ren started young and only continued to grow with each passing year until it turned into something I refuse to name; not when all we are is legally bonded. It wasn’t real; though that doesn’t stop us from finding ourselves at each other’s mercy from time to time.
Getting lost in Ren’s embrace is easy. His dark-brown eyes have a way of slicing through flesh and bone, peering into the deepest abyss of one’s soul. It’s awakening or slipping away from the passion and pleasure that’s jarring, making me remember that I’ll never be more than an easy lay for him when his need for blood arises.
Most of the time, Ren is in perpetual jerk mode. Often, he lets his dark, sinister side out to play, wielding a sharp blade in his hand, nicking and marring my flesh. On rare occasions, he’s someone else entirely. He can be sweet when he wants to be, and that’s when he’s the most dangerous. He makes my heart want what it can’t have.
Having wasted too much time with my mind tossing and turning over Lorenzo Caputo, I pull my cell phone from my back pocket with the intention of ordering a Lyft to pick me up. Ren is right, I can’t go to the club looking like a domestic violence victim, but I do have an apartment in the city. It’ll be an expensive trip from Tony’s house to my loft but like hell am I staying here.
What was it Ren’s dad said before he walked out? Oh yeah, do make sure your wife is moved in by tomorrow. What the hell did that even mean? He can’t possibly expect me to live here. My father would never allow it; though, it’s not like he spoke up either, refuting the Caputo boss.
Shaking my head, I’m confused as to why my father brought me here in the first place. Tony knew Ren and I were married, so does that mean my dad did too?
Is this punishment?
My phone chimes with a text, pulling me from the questions forming in my head. Looking down, I see my brother’s name, so I tap on the screen to pull it up.
Krishna: I’m going to strangle you, goddammit.
Me: Bring it, bitch.
Krishna: You know I will. BTW . . . I know something you don’t.
I shoot him a text back with the eye rolling emoji and the middle finger. He knows me well enough to know I’m not going to bite. I don’t have to. He’s going to tell whatever it is he’s learned, no matter how mad he is at me at this very moment, and make no mistake, Krishna is furious. I’ll either wake up to his hands wrapped around my throat or Ren’s blade against my flesh and his cock inside of me. I can’t even tell you which one I prefer more.
My phone chimes with an incoming text. Bingo!
Krishna: De Salvo asked the juicehead’s twin to marry him.
My eyes flash with so much heated rage that I don’t comprehend my brother’s message. This isn’t the first time he’s referred to Ren as a drunk. It pisses me off every time he does, and then I become even angrier that it makes me mad in the first place.
Is Lorenzo my husband?
Yes.
But does that make him mine?
No. No, it fucking does not, and that knowledge hurts more than any amount of physical pain I’ve ever been in.
I’m about to punch in a slew of emojis to express my disdain when I glance at his words, reading them over again but refusing to repeat Krishna’s derogatory nickname, even in my head. De Salvo’s asked Ren’s twin to marry him. Matteo and Sienna are tying the knot? Can’t say I saw that coming. I thought De Salvo had better taste than that bitch.
Then again, he did knock up that gold-digging whore, so I’d say his partner-picking skills are flawed. Krishna told me about finding Matteo’s daughter earlier tonight, and he led me to believe Kennedy was responsible. I don’t know all the details, but I do know one thing: that cunt deserves to die. She wouldn’t be a loose end I left breathing.
I don’t reply to my brother’s text. Instead, I jump on Twitter. It wouldn’t be very sisterly to not congratulate Sienna on her upcoming nuptials, now would it?
Once my tweet is sent across their platform, I do the same exact post on my other two social media accounts, wanting to be first to shout Sienna’s news to the world.
I might have won the match, but #SiennaCaputo is the real winner tonight! #congrats to my opponent and #MatteoDeSalvo . . . She said YES! #WeddingBells
Take that, you stupid bitch!
