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Dante
Neither Francis nor Cecelia said a word about my long absence from the dinner table Friday night. Vivian didn’t mention our little chat in the office, and I returned to New York dissatisfied and on edge.
I could’ve burned the Lau mansion to the ground with one flick of my lighter.
Unfortunately, doing so would’ve brought the authorities straight to my doorstep. Arson was bad for business, and I’d never stooped to murder…yet. But certain people tempted me to cross the line every day, one of whom I happened to share blood with.
“What’s the emergency?” Luca slouched in the chair opposite mine with a yawn. “I just got off the plane. Give a guy time to sleep.”
“According to the society pages, you haven’t slept for the past month.”
Instead, he’d been partying it up around the world. Mykonos one day, Ibiza the next. His last stop had been Monaco, where he’d lost fifty grand at the poker table.
“Exactly.” He yawned again. “That’s why I need sleep.”
My jaw hardened.
Luca was five years younger than me, yet he acted like he was twenty-one instead of thirty-one.
If he weren’t my brother, I would’ve cut him off without hesitation,especiallygiven the shitshow I found myself in thanks to him.
“Aren’t you curious why I called you here?”
Luca shrugged, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath my calm. “You missed your baby bro?”
“Not quite.” I retrieved a manila folder from my drawer and placed it on the desk between us. “Open it.”
He gave me a strange look but obliged. I kept my gaze trained on his face as he flipped through the photos, slowly at first, then faster as the panic set in.
Grim satisfaction passed through me when he finally looked up, his face several shades paler than when he’d entered.
At least he understood what was at stake.
“Do you know who the woman in those photos is?” I asked.
Luca’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow.
“Maria Romano.” I tapped the photo on the top of the pile. “Niece of mafia don Gabriele Romano. Twenty-seven years old, widowed, and the apple of her uncle’s eye. The name should ring a bell, considering you were fucking her before you left for Europe, as evidenced by these photos.”
My brother’s hands fisted. “How did you—”
“That’s not the right question, Luca. The right question is what kind of casket you’d like at your funeral because that’s what I’ll have to fucking plan if Romanoeverfinds out about this!”
The storm broke halfway through my sentence, fueled by weeks’ worth of pent-up fury and frustration.
Luca shrank back in his chair as I shoved my chair back and stood, my body vibrating at his sheeridiocy.
“A mafia princess? Are you fuckingkiddingme?” I swept the folder off the desk in one furious motion, taking a glass paperweight out with it. The glass shattered with a deafening crash while the photos fluttered out and onto the ground.
Luca flinched.
“You’ve done some stupid shit in your life, but this has to take the cake,” I seethed. “Do you know what Romano would do to you if he found out? He’d gut you like a fish in the slowest, most painful way possible. No amount of money would save you. He’ll hang your body from a goddamn highway overpass as a warning—ifthere’s even a body left after he’s done with you!”
The last guy who’d touched a woman in Romano’s family without his permission ended up with his dick cut off and his brains blown out in his bedroom.
The guy had merely kissed Romano’s cousin on the cheek. Rumor had it the mafioso didn’t evenlikehis cousin.
If he found out Luca slept with his beloved niece? My brother would beg for death.
