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Katia didn’t have to like the idea of an arranged marriage, but it could quickly turn into hell if she didn’t give in soon. A challenge I gladly accepted.
“Will we share a room?”
That caught my attention, and the corners of my mouth lifted.
“Yes.”
“We aren’t married.”
“I’m condemned to hell either way, aren’tyou?”
It was a particular way to ask about her sins, but there was one sin I particularly cared about.
Women in our world were often promised and married at the age of eighteen to twenty-two, but she had been tucked away and far from temptation by men like me. While I had ten years over her, she’d stayed unmarried for far longer than the traditional time frame for aprincipessa. Making her encounters with the opposite sex more likely, but still tricky to manage as she’d been under the protection and guard of her grandfather. A tenacious bastard who’d created who Mario Vitelli now was.
How many times had her fingers counted the beads of her rosary and uttered Hail Marys as her penance? Was she a good Catholic girl who walked to God’s home every Sunday? Was she even a believer? Or had she given up religion?
“Probably,” she answered.
“You ask for honesty from me, but your answers are half-truths.” It wasn’t a question.
“Aren’t you worried about what would be said if I’m seen sharing a bed with you before the wedding?”
I covered my chuckle with a scoff, and her eyes popped open.
“Anyone smart wouldn’t allow even a whisper.”
Her lashes fanned as her eyes lowered to her hand. She caught the direction it had taken to her thigh and brought it back, tucking them together.
Definitely hiding something.
“Youwillsleep in my bed.”
Her eyes flamed.
Test me,the demon begged.
Katia didn’t utter another word, and for the first time, she looked out the window. The weather had changed so quickly in the sky as brightness filtered through, promising Miami’s heat soon.
I didn’t offer the idea of her changing out of her form-fitting winter dress. The black color would attract the sun, and the long sleeves would soon stick over her arms once we landed. This time, I let it go.
Let Miami give her the warm welcome her eyes showed.
Hell.
Home.That was what the streets of Miami were to me. My brothers, the reason I bathed in blood and corruption. The Moretti Crime, my claim to this city and empire I’d rebuilt.
Salvatore had given me the keys to the syndicate long before he’d stepped down. As his health deteriorated, he became more of a background to business encounters. Entrusting me to step up to my birthright. He still operated as the boss in front of thefamiglia. We couldn’t look weak, even to our men. When it became evident the boss of Miami was terminally ill, moves had to be made. Shifts to be waived until the Mancini name was taken and replaced by mine.
I’d built something unorthodox within our Outfit. A syndicate where trust and honor ran thicker than blood and made up by now four men who’d once left Miami's Home for Boys. Each one is a crucial key to running Miami as I saw fit.
I took the last step off the plane and waited for Katia’s descent. Her eyes squinted, looking ahead, and she let out a brash exhale against the humidity and high temperatures.
Welcome home.
With a concealed smirk, I said, “After you.”
“Such a gentleman.”
