AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER 1
EMERSON
“Do you ever wish that you fell in love with someone else? Someone who could flaunt you publicly?” I ask Alistair, as I clean my seed from his entrance.
“No. I have no regrets that I fell for my best friend. I knew what I was getting into. Don’t forget, my family doesn’t have clean hands either. We were both born into this life, Em. The best thing to come out of it is you.” He rolls over and looks at me from the bed as I move to the closet to grab some clean clothes.
“You’re kind of romantic for a hardened mafia man,” I snicker while pulling on my slacks.
“Fuck off. You asked, and I answered. If it came down to not having you at all or having you in secret. I’d choose you.”
The sound of a knock on my bedroom door breaks our conversation. “Enter!” I call.
Rueben, a trusted member of my father's inner circle, forcefully swings the door open and strides inside. His nose wrinkles at seeing me in a state of undress and Alistair lying on the bed naked.
I glare at the unwanted interruption. “What do you want, Rueben? Spit it out before I remove your tongue for wasting my time.”
“Your father wants to see you in his office immediately,” he tells me, his voice dripping with disgust and hatred.
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“You can leave then,” I say with a nonchalant wave. “And Rueben?” I call him as he’s halfway out of the room with his back turned.
“Yes, Emerson?”
“The next time you look at Alistair’s ass, I’ll cut your eyes from your skull. Don’t act like what we do disgusts you when you’re ogling my lover’s ass,” I spit, hurrying to button my shirt and straighten the collar.
“Yes, Sir,” is all he says as he shuts the door behind him.
“Why must you taunt your father’s right hand?” Alistair asks from the bed where he’s lazily lounging naked.
“He’s an imbecile and only good to be a babysitter to the step-bitch.” I lean down, kissing Alistair on the forehead and rubbing a hand over his disheveled black hair. “I’ll be back. Let me go see why my fuckhead father has summoned me.”
I leave my room and head down the empty hall to the stairs that take me to the main floor where my father’s office is located. Dread pools in my stomach at the thought of even speaking to him. He knows about Alistair’s and my relationship, and while he hates that his only son is bi, he knows there’s nothing he can do to ‘fix’ me. His solution is to keep me and my sexual preferences behind closed doors so my dick’s appetite doesn’t ruin our image.
With a forceful push, the door swings open, its momentum announcing my arrival. I settle into a worn, dark leather chair. “You sent your errand boy for me?”
“Emerson, is it necessary for all the dramatics? Couldn’t you show some respect by knocking and waiting for me to allow you entry?” I watch as he raises a single brow while pouring whiskey into his glass. After all, he’s used to me by now.
“Nope. That would be boring. You sent your bitch to get me, so here I am,” I sigh, feigning boredom.
“Reuben is not my bitch. He is one of my top men and your mother’s guard!” he raises his voice, scolding me like I’m a child and not a thirty-five-year-old man.
“Bonnie is not my mother. She’s a young whore you found to warm your bed at night, who also likes pretty things. That’s it. Do not refer to her as my mother.”
“Enough!” he bellows. “I called you here to discuss your wife, not mine.”
Fuck me. Not this again. My lip involuntarily curls, a side effect of the tension that immediately grips my neck and shoulders. The constant source of our issues lies in my father's belief that he needs to find me a wife, despite my being in my thirties. When I was fifteen, he introduced me to the woman who would become my wife. She’s a fun and pretty enough woman, but we have nothing in common and, quite frankly, she’s a bitch.
But this is the Italian way, and Antonio Rossi will not tolerate his only son marrying for love. No, my marriage has to benefit him in some way. It’s funny when I think about it because he married my mom for love. Bella Rossi was a shining light in my life, and I’m convinced she got cancer and died only so she could finally leave my father. He wouldn’t have allowed a divorce. That’s not a good look for the Rossi Mafia.
“She’s not my wife,” I hiss. “Not yet, anyway.” And if I have my way, she never will be.
“Carmella Ricci is dead to her family, and us, since she decided to publicly announce her attraction to women. Your spouse cannot be someone who isn't attracted to men. The people will think it’s a sham.”
“It is a sham, though. So what does it matter?” I roll my eyes. Does he even hear himself?
