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When we lost Dwayne and Luciano at the Golden Skulls Wedding, Giovanni broke. He went into a deep depression, refusing to see anyone for months. Those were the dark days for the family. Not only did we lose a beloved brother, but we also lost a cousin we all respected and adored. The whole family did. There were times I thought of them, wondering what they would think of the family now. Their deaths broke something within the family. We all felt the change. We were no longer the strong, resilient Valentinetti’s.
Now, we just existed.
With everything still going on, Giovanni refused to lose another family member and when his son was born, he started the process of handing over the family to Salvatore. I wasn’t sure if Sal even wanted the responsibility, considering he removed himself from the family long ago to protect his own son. I knew Antonio would flat out refuse. With Grace pregnant with their third child, Tony wouldn’t do anything that would harm his family. As for Lorenzo, after the showdown with the Society, he whisked Donatella away. He checked in once a month, but the family had no clue where they were at.
Then there was me.
The one member who didn’t have anyone but the family. For a while, I submerged myself in the company, needing the distraction. For a time, it worked. Unlike my brothers, I found myself living again, representing the family when my brothers couldn’t.
Then one night, my life turned upside down.
All because I fell in love with a man I shouldn’t have.
Now I was going to have to deal with him myself. I couldn’t go to my family with this. No. This time, he was going to understand exactly who he screwed over and I knew just what to do. If he fucking thought he could get away with this, that was on him.
Revenge was a dish best served cold.
Son of a bitch dug his grave. Now he could lie in it.
Kicking off my heels, I stripped out of my clothes and walked naked into my bathroom. Stepping into the shower, I turned the knobs on as hot scalding water sprayed my body.
If I could wash every fucking memory, I had of him out of my head, I would. Happily.
Fucking bastard.
I balled my fist tight as I reared back and punched the ceramic tiles, watching the tiles shatter. Ignoring the pain resonating up my arm, I welcomed the burn of the hot water as it washed over my bloody knuckles. I stood there under the spray, seething.
If I had half a fucking brain, I would have ended his ass at that moment.
Law enforcement would fucking thank me.
Women around the world would rise and rejoice.
Watching the blood drip into the shower basin, trailing in thin strands down the drain, blind red fury filled my veins. Never in my life had I ever wanted to eviscerate a son of a bitch. I considered myself a pacifist most of the time.
Not anymore.
I wanted his fucking heart stapled to a dartboard and hanging on my wall.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t get the image out of my head.
I wanted to kill him.
Out of every man I dated, he was the one I gave my whole heart to, and the son of a bitch crushed it. He fucking knew I didn’t play games. I made myself perfectly clear from the beginning.
Fucker thought I wouldn’t find out.
He wanted to know why I put the brakes on our relationship. Well, all he had to do was look in the damn mirror. I knew what he did for a living. That shit didn’t bother me. What I cared about was the volley of women he had been with. The man was a fucking womanizer, a gigolo, a fucking man whore.
I knew it and so did he. When he pursued me, he swore to me I would be the only one.
No one told him no.
I was the first.
I knew the bastard was lying.
Yet, I ignored my brain and went against my better judgement.
