Prologue
Being the punchline in such a cruel joke feels like punishment for some crime I committed in a past life. It certainly wasn’t because of anything I’ve done in this one. I’ve always tried to be a good person. To redress the balance for my family’s involvement in the mafia, I try to help those in need. Nice could be my middle name. You’d think that would buy me some consideration, but not in this world. As far as the people around me are concerned, compassion is a synonym for weakness. It makes me a prime target for their mockery.
Walking through the restaurant in new black shoes that pinch my toes, I politely acknowledge my guests. I can’t help feeling that most of them are reveling in my misery. It’s only been a week since the same people attended the celebration of my wedding. Today, we’re gathered for my husband’s wake.
Gossip about his sudden demise and whether I played a part in it is rife. It’s not my fault Johnny’s heart gave out. A man his age should have known better than to exert himself by carrying his new bride over the threshold.
Perhaps I should have stayed away from the funeral. I could have claimed to have been too overcome with grief to face people. Nobody would have believed me, though. Johnny Lombardi was considered a complete pig. Everyone probably imagined he was a brute to me. It was what I expected when I was told I had to marry him, but he wasn’t as bad as I feared. Despite his reputation, he was pretty decent to me. He was upfront about his expectations. He wasn’t what I wanted in a husband, but I think he’d have taken care of me.
When it came down to it, skipping the funeral wasn’t really an option. My absence would only have amplified the gossip. As it is, I’m under intense scrutiny. Every gesture I make, each expression that forms on my face is being torn apart as people try to work out how I feel about the unfortunate turn my life has taken.
Some of the women openly discuss my appearance. From what I’ve overheard, it seems my hairstyle doesn’t suit me. My face is too round for the wavy look. My dress doesn’t fare well with them either. Apparently it’s too drab even for a funeral. I’m dishonoring Johnny with my lack of sartorial elegance. I don’t see what’s wrong with what I’m wearing. It’s a simple black shift dress that falls to just above my knee. What do these women want me to wear? A ball gown and tiara?
While the women critique my fashion sense, the principal topic of conversation among the men is whether the marriage was consummated before Johnny collapsed. There are a lot of crude jokes being made and I think some men are even laying bets on the current state of my hymen. I’ll never tell any of these assholes I am still a virgin. Johnny keeled over seconds after helping me out of the monstrous wedding gown my stepmother, Valeria, insisted I wore. People can never know I’m still untouched. It would make me a worthy prize for some other mobster, and there aren’t many I’d want to be shackled to.
Just as I decide I’ve been among these awful people for long enough, I finally see a friendly face. Ava Volante, the beautiful fifty-something matriarch of the crime family my father is a part of, gets up from her chair and throws her arms around me.
“Giulia, my darling. I am so sorry this happened to you.”
I’m not sure if she means me being married off to a man more than twice my age or becoming a widow so soon.
“Thank you, Mrs. Volante.”
Holding me away from her, she shakes her head and tuts. “It’s Ava. You know me well enough by now to call me by name.”
I nod, though it’s hard for me to be informal around a woman who’s not only the widow of the feared mob boss Marco Volante, but is also the mother of my oldest friend. Her fourth son, Matteo, and I have been close since we were in elementary school. I shared my snacks with him one lunchtime and it seems it’s true about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach because we’ve been friends ever since. His mother is a woman I’ve always had the greatest respect for. It feels weird to address her by name.
“Yes, Ava.”
She drops her hands from my shoulders and tilts her head to one side as she studies me. There’s no criticism in her gaze, only concern.
“You look pale, sweetie. Let’s go to the terrace.” She links her arm with mine. “Matteo’s out there.”
It’s like she said the magic words to lift me out of my funk. My mood instantly lightens. “I didn’t realize he was here.”
“Of course he is. We all wanted to be here for you.”
“Not Isabella.” I speak without thinking.
“No,” Ava says sadly. “Not Isabella.”
After Matteo, Isabella is my oldest friend. She married Ava’s son, Antonio, a few months ago. Something happened between them and she was sent away. I tried to get in touch with her, but it was made clear to me that contacting the boss’s wife is strictly forbidden. All I’ve been able to find out is that Isabella is living in some beach house the Volantes own on Long Island. I’ve asked Matteo for more information, but he always brushes me off.
Allowing the subject to drop, I let Ava lead me out through the French doors to the terrace overlooking Central Park. The view from up here is spectacular. Johnny left specific instructions about how he wanted his funeral and asked for a magnificent party to send him on his way. I left the organization to his sister, Cosima, and she’s done him proud.
I scan the terrace and immediately find Matteo. He’s standing with two of his four brothers, Alessandro and Leo. All three are tall and muscular, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. None of them would look out of place on the cover of a steamy romance novel.
Standing with them is a shorter man with blond hair and a woman I can’t stand, Marissa Locatelli. She’s exactly the type of woman I imagine Matteo will marry one day. A tall, slender brunette, she’s always up to date with the latest fashion trends. People clamor to be by her side.
Unfortunately, she has all the personality of a cardboard cutout. Matteo won’t care about that, though. A beautiful woman to warm his bed and bear his children is all he requires in a wife. He may be a good friend to me, but when it comes to the women he fucks, he’s as much of an asshole as the other Made Men.
We walk toward them, but I stop dead, ten feet away, as the man I don’t know speaks. “Poor old Johnny probably froze to death the moment he touched her.”
It doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s talking about me. Ava tries to pull me forward so we’ll be noticed before any further remarks are made, but I dig my heels in. Whatever they have to say about me, I want to hear it.
“Or strained himself trying to force her thighs open.” That came from Alessandro. A stab of pain strikes deep in my chest. Although I don’t know him as well as I do Matteo, I always considered him a friend.
“You are terrible!” Marissa giggles. “What do you think, Matteo?”
“Giulia,” Ava hisses under her breath. She tries to drag me away, but I refuse to move. Matteo will defend me. I know he will.
“I think Sandro’s being unfair.” Matteo grins wickedly and my heart sinks. “It’s not Giulia’s fault her legs clamp shut every time a man looks at her. Frigid bitch.”
As the group laughs at my expense, my stomach roils. How could Matteo be so cruel? I can put up with mockery from strangers, but it’s unbearable to have someone I love joining in. I mean, he called me the b-word. That hurt.
Patting my arm sympathetically, Ava clears her throat. Finally, Matteo and the others notice us.
“Oh, Gia, darlin’. I didn’t see you there.” If that’s Marissa’s idea of an apology, it’s lacking, especially since she misnamed me. I don’t correct her.
“Giulia!” There’s a pained expression on Matteo’s face. I suspect he’s about to apologize, but I hold up a hand to silence him.
“Don’t say a word, Matteo. I thought we were friends. It seems I was wrong.”
Despite Ava protesting that I shouldn’t leave, I turn and march back into the restaurant. I cut across the room, ignoring my stepmother as she calls out to me. I can’t face her right now, not on top of everything else. The one good thing that was going to come from my marriage to Johnny was freedom from my stepmother. I’m sick of her endless scheming to use me to rise within the ranks of the Volante organization. She’s always wanted my dad to be more than a mere soldier, even if he is valued in that role. My husband’s body is barely in the ground and she’s probably already plotting her next move.
Thoroughly disgusted by the people in my life, I march to the elevator and push the call button. Luck is on my side as the doors open immediately. I need to get out of here before the tears burning my eyes fall. I press the button for the lobby. The doors are just closing when Matteo pushes through. In such a confined space, my body is all too aware of his presence. My body thrums with a desire I wish I didn’t feel.
As the doors shut and the elevator begins its descent, Matteo puts his hand on my shoulder and turns me to face him.
“Giulia, I’m sorry.”
“Are you sorry for making jokes about me, or that I overheard?”
He hesitates for a moment too long. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
That’s not the apology I hoped for. He’s only sorry I know what he said, not that he made fun of me when I was at my lowest ebb. If Ava hadn’t made our presence known, he’d probably have carried on laughing behind my back.
“You know what, Matteo? If this is your idea of friendship, I want no part of it.” A tear rolls down my cheek and I swipe it away. “Go back to Marissa. I don’t want to spend another minute in your company.”
As the elevator doors open, I step out into the hotel lobby.
“Giulia.” His tone suggests I’m being unreasonable. He follows me to the exit. “Giulia.”
I whirl around to face him. “Go away, Matteo. We’re done. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t show up on my doorstep when you need to vent about some girl getting too clingy. Pretend we never met.”
Holding my head high, I walk away. Matteo Volante let me down today. I won’t ever give him the chance to do it again.
[divider]Chapter One
Six months later
Giulia
Some people find the smell of fresh paint unpleasant, but not me. I love it because it signifies progress, renewal. This building was run down when I bought it. There was black mold on the walls. The floorboards were rotting to where it wasn’t safe to enter some rooms. The city was ready to condemn the place. But, thanks to the considerable bequest my husband unexpectedly made me in his will, I could buy the single-story building and restore it to its former glory.
Most of the work is being done by contractors, but I wanted to put the finishing touches on this room myself. I painted the upper walls and ceiling a pretty blue to mimic a summer sky. For the lower parts and floor, I chose a grassy green. I painted a few animals on one wall. I’m particularly proud of the family of rabbits I just completed. They’re super cute. The younger kids are going to love spending time in here. At least, I hope they will. I have a lot pinned on this place being a success.
When I found out I was going to be financially independent for the first time in my life, I knew immediately I wanted to do something to help my community. The mafia isn’t hot on emotional support or equal opportunities. Some wives and children of the Volante organization’s soldiers have a tough life. This center will be a place where they can come and spend time together socially, and also get advice and counseling if they need it. A lot of mafia women need help to cope with the shit the men in their families heap on them.
As I hear the door closing, I set down my paintbrush and lean out into the corridor to see who’s there. The only person I’m expecting is the carpenter who’s going to make shelves for the office and he’s not due until later.
My heart leaps into my throat as a man who’s very definitely not the carpenter strides into view. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wears an impeccably tailored suit and shoes that cost more than the average person earns in a month. Antonio Volante. There’s only one reason I can think of for the mafia boss to show up here, and it isn’t good. He’s going to shut my project down.
“Mr. Volante.” I step out into the hallway to greet him.
“Antonio.” He doesn’t smile, twisting his lips in a disapproving scowl as his eyes scan over me. I guess he doesn’t like my new hairstyle. “No need to be so formal, Giulia. We’ve known each other a long time. You and my wife are friends.” His frown deepens. “Or is that no longer the case? As I understand it, my wife has tried to call you several times and received no reply.”
Confused, I furrow my brow. That can’t be why he’s here. The boss of one of the biggest crime organizations in the country can’t have tracked me down to tell me off for not answering his wife’s phone calls.
“I meant to call her back. I’ve been busy.”
Antonio arches a skeptical eyebrow. “For five weeks?”
Has it been that long? I guess I knew that. If I’m honest, I’ve been reluctant to speak to her. We haven’t seen each other for more than a year and I worry things will be awkward between us, especially now Matteo and I aren’t friends anymore. He’s her brother-in-law so Isabella may feel her loyalty lies with him rather than me.
“I…”
Before I can come up with an excuse he’ll find acceptable, Antonio waves off my concern with an imperious flick of the wrist. “I’m not here about my wife.”
He walks past me and strolls into the room I’ve just come out of. I follow him and hover aimlessly as he looks around. “This is for my men’s wives to bring their children?”
There’s an edge to his voice that makes my heart sink. It sounds like disapproval.
“Yes.”
“And you’re planning to employ a guidance counselor, a therapist?”
“You approved my plans.” I can’t hide the desperation in my voice as I wonder if he’s going to tell me he’s changed his mind. “You said it was okay.”
Growing up in the mafia, I know how this world works. Before I even spoke to my realtor about this place, I sought permission from Antonio to go ahead with my plans. Everything was run past Dante Parisi, his terrifying right-hand man, in advance. All the contractors I use are mafia-affiliated.
Tears prick my eyes. “I did everything right.”
“I can see that.” Antonio goes to the window and glances out at the small garden I’ve created in the parking lot. “I remember how this place looked before. You’ve done a great job.”
“So you’re not here to shut me down?”
Turning to face me, Antonio smiles tightly. “Not yet.”
Dread sweeps over me at that ominous remark. “Why are you here, Antonio?”
He exhales sharply. “Matteo.”
That catches me off guard. I thought Antonio was well aware his brother and I were no longer friends. The last I heard of Matteo, he was accompanying their sister, Olivia, to Italy. “What about him?”
“He’s been involved in an… incident.”
“Got caught banging some Italian bigwig’s wife in a public restroom, did he?”
Antonio’s lips twitch, but I can’t tell if it’s with amusement or annoyance. The man is remarkably hard to read, but I can’t imagine he approves of Matteo’s antics.
“No, there was a shooting. A girl was killed.”
“Oh, my god.” Now I feel like a complete shit for making light of it. “What happened?”
“I can’t give you details. What I can tell you is that Matteo did not pull the trigger.”
“Okay, so…”
“Why am I telling you this?” He purses his lips as I nod. “Because Matteo is having a… crisis. He refuses to leave Italy.”
“I see.” Actually, I don’t. If Antonio wants his brother to come home, surely all he has to do is issue an order. What has any of this to do with me? “So, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to go to Italy, help him resolve whatever shit he’s going through, and bring him back.”
Unable to hold in my response, I huff out a laugh. “You want me to go to Italy and drag Matteo back? Don’t you have people who’re better equipped for that sort of thing?”
“I do.” Antonio leans back, resting his ass on the windowsill.
I wince. That was painted earlier. I hope it’s dry because his suit probably cost more than I spent decorating this entire room. I don’t think I can afford to replace it.
“So send them.”
“I will, as a last resort. I want to try a gentler approach first.”
Balling up my fists, I rest them on my hips. “What makes you think I’ll be gentle with him?”
Now it’s Antonio who barks out a disbelieving laugh. I guess I’m not known for inflicting violence, but he’s wrong to assume I’m willing to go halfway across the world to coax Matteo out of whatever mood he’s in. I’ve had enough of being taken for a fool.
“You’re one of his oldest friends.”
“I was his friend.”
“One little comment does not cancel two decades of shared history.”
There’s no point in arguing with Antonio. He’d never understand the hurt and betrayal I felt when Matteo laughed at me the day of Johnny’s funeral. Perhaps my reaction has been extreme, but I can’t help it. When I needed him the most, he let me down. I don’t want to see the asshole ever again.
“What about Isabella? She’s his friend. Why don’t you send her?”
Antonio’s jaw clenches. He’s never been entirely at ease with his wife and his brother having a close relationship. Matteo, Isabella, and I became friends at elementary school. Antonio barely noticed his wife existed before she became an adult.
“My wife will not be traveling to Italy.” He fixes me with an intense stare. “Look, Giulia, I’ll be honest with you. I think you are what he needs, so you will do as I ask. You will travel to Italy on my private jet, drinking champagne and being waited on by my attentive staff. You will stay in a luxurious villa in the most beautiful part of the country and enjoy the finest hospitality. I will even ensure this place is looked after until you return.”
The offer he’s making is a tempting one, but I can’t help wondering what the alternative is. “And if I refuse?”
“Well, this place doesn’t have to open.” Antonio smiles grimly. “It would be a shame if all your good intentions went to waste.”
I suck in a breath, but he’s not finished with the threats yet.
“And I could tell your father and stepmother I changed my mind about them leaving you alone after Lombardi’s death. I could tell them to start looking for another husband for you.”
“But I don’t live with them anymore. I have my own money now.”
Antonio looks at me as if I’m a naïve child. “You think any of that matters?”
No, I don’t. The only reason my dad and Valeria allowed me to move into my own apartment and haven’t already forced me into a new marriage arrangement is that Antonio told them to back off. He insisted they gave me time to get over what happened with Johnny. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I guess I knew my newfound freedom was an illusion. My money only bought temporary autonomy. Where the mafia’s concerned, it doesn’t matter. I could be a billionaire, but I’d still have to live within the rules of this fucked-up world my great-grandfather dragged our family into when he pledged allegiance to the Volantes.
Tears burn my eyes as Antonio stalks closer. I blink them back, but it’s too late. He’s seen them.
“No need to cry, Giulia.” There’s a flash of something like regret on his face, but he quickly masks it. “None of this needs to be a hardship for you. Bring Matteo back and I will ensure you can follow your dreams. Get him back within a week and I’ll throw in a generous donation to this place.”
He holds my gaze. At first I remain defiant, but I’m no match for the harshness in his eyes. I soon cave. “When do I leave?”
“Dante will pick you up in two hours and drive you to the airport. Tell him what needs to be done here and he’ll see to it.”
“Okay.” I hate how defeated I sound.
“You might want to clean up first,” Antonio says. “You have paint on your nose.”
As he walks away, I snort in disbelief. Paint on my nose? That’s the least of my worries. I fear I’ve been given an impossible task. Antonio knows as well as I do that it will take more than gentle persuasion to wrangle Matteo onto a plane. Once he’s dug in, it’s extremely difficult to change his mind.
A stab of fear pierces deep. What if I fail? Displeasing the head of the Volante organization would be a spectacularly bad idea. Am I going to lose everything I worked so hard to achieve?
No. I strengthen my resolve. I will get Matteo back to New York by whatever means necessary. If I have to drag him here by the balls, then so be it.
[divider]Chapter Two
Matteo
My brothers would say I’m wallowing in self-pity. Hell, they have said it. Repeatedly. For weeks I’ve been refusing to go home. I can’t. Not until I sort out the shit in my head. My sins are weighing heavily on me right now. I’m not fit to be around people. I want to shut out the world and drown in misery. If I’m meant to come through this, I will. If not, then my family’s better off without me. They can leave me here to rot.
I don’t know why Sofia Montalbano’s death is bothering me so much. I barely knew her and it’s not as if her killing is the first I’ve witnessed. She’s not even the first innocent I’ve seen getting caught in the crossfire. But she was young, guileless, and her only crime was passing in front of me as the assassin took his shot. I should have caught the bullet, not her.
The worst of it is I didn’t see it coming. I was distracted, watching a bridal party as they processed through the cobbled streets of the village. I lost focus for a moment as I allowed myself to be swept into the fantasy that I could have what the young bride and groom had, that special bond.
My three older brothers have all married incredible women. Even my mother is getting a second chance at love with the Bratva boss she fell for. I’m not a romantic guy, but I’ve always imagined I’ll get married and raise a family one day. Letting myself daydream about that for a minute cost a young girl her life. Though I hunted down and killed every one of the Rossis who were involved in the botched hit on me, my guilt hasn’t been assuaged.
Taking another sip of vodka, I reread the latest text my brother sent me. Antonio has been relentless with the voice messages, texts, and emails. He’s asked our cousin Damiano to come up here to persuade me to leave more than once. My brother wants me back in New York. There’s civil war raging within the Bianchi family right now. As our primary enemies tear themselves to pieces, it’s a good time to consolidate our family’s power. For that, Antonio needs all of us by his side.
His latest message perplexes me. He’s tried everything—threats, promises, pleading. He even tried emotional blackmail, trying to guilt me for not being around to support our youngest brother as he recovers from being shot. Now Antonio tells me he’s sending someone to keep me company. Fuck knows who that will be. Whoever he sends, I’ll make it clear they’re not welcome here. I don’t need a damned babysitter.
As I drain the vodka from my glass, I hear the front door clicking shut. I’m not expecting anyone and I have no idea how they’d have gotten past the security system. My senses sharp despite the alcohol I’ve consumed, I grab my gun and head out into the darkened corridor, just in time to see someone slipping into the study. What do they want in there?
Treading lightly so I don’t alert the intruder to my presence, I walk along the corridor and peer into the room. Against the moonlight coming in through the window, I make out a distinctively female form. It’s not the housekeeper, who acts as if I’m a vampire or some shit and avoids coming here at night.
It isn’t my sister either. She’s the only other woman who would have a legitimate reason to be here. This woman isn’t short, standing at around five nine, but she is curvier than Olivia.
Her hair is short, but I can’t make out the color in the half light. She’s wearing a flared dress that falls below her knee and high-top sneakers. It’s not the typical attire of a burglar. Who the fuck is she?
As the woman gropes about in the dark, apparently searching the desk, I rush forward and wrap an arm around her throat. She gasps as I pull her back against me. Immediately, I detect a delicate floral fragrance on her skin. It’s familiar, comforting, but I can’t place it. My cock twitches as she wriggles her firm ass against me, trying to break free.
“Uh-uh,” I scold. “Don’t struggle.”
“I…”
“Why are you creeping around my house?”
Before she can answer, I slap a hand over her mouth. I don’t care what she’s doing here.
“There are consequences for sneaking about in the dark.”
Removing my hand from her mouth, I shove her face down over the desk.
“Don’t!” she protests as I whip her skirt up around her waist.
Something about her voice strikes a chord, but I don’t know why.
“Shh.” I run a hand over the soft cotton of the panties that cover most of her ass. “You’ll take your spanking without complaint or I’ll whip your ass with my belt.”
The mystery woman sucks in a sharp breath, but offers no resistance as I slide her panties down over her hips and then nudge her ankles with my foot to spread her legs apart. I draw my hand back and bring it down hard on her left butt cheek. The woman squeals—in surprise, I’d guess, rather than pain.
I briefly consider putting the lights on so I can see her flesh turning red beneath my palm, but I don’t. There’s something unsettling about being in the dark with this woman. My desire is running rampant, though I haven’t even seen her face. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m nervous and I don’t know why. I should turn on the lights and get a look at her, but I fear that would somehow ruin the moment.
Holding her down with a hand at the small of her back, I spank my little captive repeatedly, giving both sides of her ass equal attention. She wriggles and moans, the sounds becoming frantic as her flesh heats beneath my hand.
“Are you enjoying this, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“You know, I’m not the type of man you should lie to.”
Keeping my hand firmly on her back so she can’t escape me, I run a finger along her feminine slit, finding her drenched.
“And you just lied to me, sweetheart, because you are soaked.”
I push a finger inside her. Fuck, she’s tight. I add another finger and her pussy clenches.
“Is this what you came for?” I pump my fingers in and out of her. “You want to get fucked? You want me to fill all your holes with my cum?”
“No,” she denies, though her desperate moan says otherwise.
“You sure about that?” I pull her upright, wrapping an arm around her chest. I squeeze her breast as I drive my fingers deep. “Because I think you’re ripe for fucking, sweetheart.”
I release her breast and unfasten my jeans. As I lower my zipper, my little captive stiffens. “Matty, stop.”
My blood chills. I stumble backward as if someone just turned a hose on me. I move to the door and fumble around the side for the light switch. I press it and the room fills with a yellow glow. My worst fear is confirmed.
“Giulia.”
She pulls up her panties, smooths down her dress, and offers me a weak smile. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glazed. She’s never looked more beautiful, but I can’t allow myself to think of her that way.
“What are you doing here?”
She raises her chin in a defiant response to my harsh tone. “Antonio sent me.”
“Of course he did.” Boss or not, I am going to beat my brother to a bloody pulp when I see him next. I need to fix this disaster first. I almost fucked my best friend, who I’m pretty sure is still a virgin, over a desk. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to creep about in the middle of the night?”
“I couldn’t find the light switch.” She balls up her fists and rests them on her hips. When she’s pissed, she resembles an angry kitten. It’s hard to take her rage seriously. “But that doesn’t excuse what you did.”
“Fuck, Giulia, you think I don’t know that?” I pace back and forth, trying to get a hold of myself. Anger, desire, and regret all merge to create a tangled knot in my stomach. I glare at the woman before me, trying to find a way to shift some of the blame for what happened. “Why didn’t you stop me sooner?”
“I don’t know.” Her tone is defensive. “You caught me by surprise.”
I scoff at that. “That’s your excuse? I caught you by surprise?”
“Yeah, you grabbed me and I froze. It’s what you’d expect, right? From a frigid bitch?”
I guess I don’t have to wonder whether Giulia’s still nursing a grudge over the stupid comments I made at Johnny’s wake because she’s just made it clear she is. I’m not ready for a conversation about that yet, so I change the subject. “You look different. When did you change your hair?”
She used to have the most amazing brunette waves tumbling down her back. Now she’s got one of those pixie cuts and her hair is a light purple shade, lavender, I guess. It completely transforms her appearance. It’s no wonder I didn’t recognize her.
Except, a nagging voice at the back of my head says, perhaps I did. Deep down, I think I knew it was her. She smelled familiar. Her voice resonated with me. I recognized Giulia at the most basic level and spanked her anyway. I hardly dare analyze what that means.
“I got it cut about a month ago. It’s liberating.”
“Liberating?” I don’t mean to scoff, but my tone comes off kind of mocking.
“Yes, it feels like a big fuck you to everyone who expects me to look and behave a certain way, just because my father’s in the fucking mob.”
“Stop cursing.” It’s hypocritical of me to pull anyone up on their language, but I’ve always hated hearing such words from Giulia’s pure pink lips. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“You wouldn’t know what suits me.”
“Of course I would. We’ve been friends for twenty years.”
Giulia shakes her head. “We were friends, Matteo, and the more I think about it, the more I realize I was always more your friend than you were mine.”
“That’s not true.” Though Giulia has always been more open about her feelings than I am, I’ve never been shy about demonstrating how much she means to me.
She purses her lips. “I beg to differ. Now, it’s been a long night, and I’d like to get some rest. Show me where I can sleep and I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You plan to stay here?”
Her lips twist. “As per Antonio’s instructions.”
“Since when do you take orders from my brother?”
Giulia lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Everyone takes orders from your brother, Matteo. I’m no different. Now, tell me where I can sleep. We’ll discuss what happens next in the morning.”
I don’t want to consider what she means by that. Though I’d rather not have her here, I can’t send her away at this time of night. There’s only one small hotel in the village and I doubt they have twenty-four-hour check-in.
“Upstairs, second on the left.”
Though I wasn’t expecting guests, the housekeeper, Rosalia, keeps the whole house in pristine condition. I know she has all the bedrooms made up. She’s probably hoping my sister will return. The atmosphere was a lot lighter when Olivia was here, but, of course, that was before the Montalbano girl was killed. I sent my sister to stay with our cousin Damiano in Florence in case Sofia’s family comes looking for revenge. They made it clear they blamed my presence in the village for her death. They’re right, of course. This is a peaceful place. If I hadn’t been here, the Rossis wouldn’t have come.
“That’s it?” Giulia huffs. “You’re not going to offer to help with my suitcase?”
“No, and don’t bother unpacking. You won’t be staying.”
She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. I know that look. She’s determined to defy me. “We’ll see.”
I don’t have the chance to set her straight. Spinning on her heel, she flounces from the room, leaving me with the urge to bend her over and spank her ass again. Disturbed by the thought, I head back to the living room and pour myself another vodka. It’s cheap shit that burns my throat as I swallow it down, but I’ve developed a taste for it.
As I flop onto an armchair, there’s a thudding sound on the stairs, Giulia bumping her suitcase up the steps. I should have carried it up to her room, but I don’t want her to get the mistaken idea she’s welcome here. As much as I want to make up with her after the stupid things I said at Johnny’s funeral, now is not the time. I can’t have her around me, not if it might put her in the crosshairs of my family’s enemies. She can stay tonight, but tomorrow morning, she’s gone, whether Antonio likes it or not.
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