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Do I respect women?
Absolutely.
I mean, in the bedroom is a different story, but I don’t fucking tolerate the disrespect of women.
It takes an insane amount of strength to hold back from Rolando.
Going off will not help anything, Genovese.
While Raymond and Rolando toss their words around with each other, I scroll through my phone reading one of the many messages my father sent to me. I have no idea what more he could have gotten himself into, but he wants me in Sicily by tomorrow.
That won’t work for me.
My father is the kind of man who doesn’t hear the word “no.” I could write the definition out for him page after page and he still wouldn’t grasp the understanding.
He and I clash so much because I was raised with the exact same understanding. When someone tells me no, I fight back until I get what I want.
I am a Genovese; it’s in my blood not to take shit from anyone.
Dull laughter fills the office as Rolando hands me a glass of rum.
“You’re good for our family, Giovanni,” he says in a low and approving voice.
I’m really not. I’ve got my fucking eye on him.
I nod to agree with him even though I think the opposite. His approval will help me. I need him on my side as I sort through all this shit.
My jaw clenches as I see Nina from afar.
She is wearing a black bikini that makes the color of her skin pop. Smooth olive skin that I would love nothing more than to touch again.
She smiles at Sylvia.
Her fucking smile could make men fall to their goddamn knees. If I only had the chance to get her out of my system . . .
I just want her once. I’d be able to look at her without imaging how she would wrap her lips around my—
“Cheers!” Raymond says, nudging my arm, making my drink spill on my pants.
I try to rewind their conversation, but I don’t remember a fucking thing because of Nina. My fists curl as I think about her even more. If she were mine, she wouldn’t be walking around other men wearing that shit.
Her cover can hardly even be considered a cover.
For fuck’s sake, even Sylvia is looking at her body.
I grit my teeth and lean my head on my hands, blocking my view of her. “What is it we are toasting, exactly?” I ask, trying to sound composed.
Low snickers fill the atmosphere. “We heard about Mikhail.” Rolando’s face stiffens.
My lips press into a line.How much does he know?
What thefuck?I knew word would go around fast, but once I get my hands on the man who spread the news . . .
“You take the idea of family to another level.” Raymond’s head tilts toward mine, giving me his approval that I do not need.
I nod, not saying a word. I really should have listened.
Thoughts bounce around in my head like a ping-pong ball. I need them to tell me what they know again.
