Dirty Mafia Sinner (Dirty Mafia Kingdom #2)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

RILEY

“Do you love him back?”

My omelet falls off my fork. “What?”

Renzo stretches his big body on the barstool, as if his question were as casual as asking me about the weather. I’ve become fast friends with Alessandro’s twin. I can’t help comparing the two. Alessandro’s bossy and unhinged in a controlled way, if that makes sense. He can be a wild lunatic one moment and rigidly recentered the other. Renzo’s unhinged in the way free spirits are, full of life, charming and charismatic, easy to be around, yet deeply, deeply troubled. Alessandro’s the overbearing protector. His brother the lost soul.

And, if I’m reading his expression correctly, I’m the fish out of water.

Alessandro stalked off a few moments ago to take an urgent call, leaving us alone.

I bite my lip, wondering why Renzo doubts me.

“You’re wearing one, too.” He kicks out his foot, drawing my attention to the tracking device hooked around his ankle.

“What does a tracking device have to do with love?” Why am I wearing this device?

“When we were kids, Sandro had a pet turtle named Gelato.”

I laugh. “Like the ice cream?”

“Your Italian is impressive.”

I roll my eyes.

“He was so freaking protective of it, and I was never allowed to play with it.”

“Because you were a hot mess even then?”

“No. That happened afterward.” Renzo sobers, and then shrugs off the abrupt flash of sadness. “I asked him why, of all animals, he chose a turtle. And you know what he said?”

“Let me guess. Slow and steady won the race?” Except Alessandro’s bossy and not into delayed gratification—not his own, anyway.

His brother rakes his eyes over me.

“Tell me.”

“It will never run away without me catching it.”

I blink.

“He likes to trap the things he loves.”

My stomach flutters as I murmur, “But what if I like being trapped.”

That catches Renzo’s attention, and he offers me a long look.

“What if I feel secure and safe, knowing he’ll always be there.”

His face pinches, then he leans back and runs his fingers through his hair. “How are you so certain he will be?”

I shrug. “Experience.”

“Ah, I get it now.”

A flush creeps up my neck. “Do you?”

“You like submitting to him?”

“Yes.” I don’t elaborate, the conversation too raw, too intimate. But I can’t deny the dynamic I have with his brother. It is what it is.

“We Beneventi all have our vices. Enough said.”

He gets it, doesn’t he?

Renzo’s expression sobers yet again. “Just … be careful.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“You’re too sweet for that asshole.” He shakes his head. “But I’m rooting for you, Riley. I really, truly am.”

“I’m rooting for you, too. To get clean. It wasn’t easy for him to see you like that?”

He grunts. “I’ll get clean on my own terms.”

“Promise?” I offer him an encouraging smile.

“Promise.”

We eat breakfast in a comfortable silence until I break it. “How many years did Alessandro take care of Gelato?” I don’t know where the question comes from or why I ask it. But the answer suddenly feels important.

“He hired some turtle expert to look after it when he’s away. They live like fucking forever.”

Oh. My. God. All this time?

Renzo turns his attention to his breakfast.

While my mind races with the possibilities.

Of a lifetime.

With Alessandro.

Peace is a fragile tightrope the twins walk. I’m outside Alessandro’s office and about to enter, craving my dose of wickedness before he leaves tomorrow, when the bickering begins.

“You can’t even keep your dick in your pants,” Renzo exclaims with a short laugh. “What makes you think you can keep me here?”

“Little pricks like yourself are easily contained.”

A pissing contest over dicks? I roll my eyes. Men can be so crass.

“Let me ask you this: when he snaps his fingers, do you ask, ‘How high do I jump?’”

I flinch as something crashes against a wall.

“That’s the spirit,” Renzo continues, laughing wildly. “You’ve no problem raging at everyone else, why not the great Sebastiano Beneventi?”

“You don’t get it, do you? This has been years in the making. It’s time .”

“What if the Eleven don’t vote him in?”

“You ever hear of the French artist, Vincent Van Gogh?”

Renzo sighs. “Here we go with the anecdotes.”

“Never guess what he mailed to his brother.”

“The key to his ankle monitor?”

Renzo’s like being trapped inside a champagne glass, surrounded by his effervescent personality and drunk right along with him on life. Alessandro thrives on control and his twin on being out-of-control. I feel sorry for Renzo and for how the Beneventis aim to put a cork in his life. It could ruin a spirit to contain such passion.

His voice interrupts the thought. “I give in. What did he send him?”

“His ear.”

My smile drops.

“I swear to God, Sandro, if I get home to find a fucking ear—”

“I mailed each famiglia a piece of that stranzo along with a personalized note.”

I place my hand on the wall to steady myself. What?

“Now that’s fucked up.” Renzo’s reaction is so calm. Maybe he’s not quite as fragile as I believe. Because my stomach rolls at the savagery. I’m part of his world now, but that doesn’t mean I’m heartless. Like Renzo, I’ll adapt with time. I hope.

“You used a chain saw on Conti?”

“No,” Alessandro sarcastically replies. “I used a butter knife, asshole.”

“Chain saws will now be the Beneventi trademark. We’ll be feared for this.”

“Not if they vote Father in.”

There’s a long pause.

“You clever bastard.” The reverence in his twin’s reaction’s undeniable. “What did the note say?”

“Prima la famiglia.”

“Family first.”

I’ve always seen Alessandro as a lone wolf type. Independent. Proud. A powerful, driven man others flock to. Hearing the strength in his tone, the love and commitment he’s made to his family paints a broader picture. Yes, he’s driven to impress his father and secure his legacy. Yet there’s a bigger, much more complicated world out there, a mafioso world in which the Beneventis rule.

“I’m attending the funeral tomorrow.”

“You’re going nowhere, capisci? Enjoy the amenities, detox, and get your shit together.”

“And cast aside all the fun?”

“You want to ruin us?” Alessandro grinds out.

“You really willing to ruin your life by going through with this?”

I still, listening intently. Surprised by Renzo’s comment.

The deafening silence descends on the other side of the door.

“I couldn’t shoot him. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Alessandro grunts.

“And Riley? You keeping her locked away forever?”

“Not your business.”

“She loves you. And you love her.”

“Will you shut your trap, already,” Alessandro exclaims. “Love has nothing to do with it.”

“So your plan is to keep her here, tucked away and ignorant?”

My pulse quickens, kicking the air within my lungs from my body. The monitor around my ankle suddenly feels heavier. My freedom, an intangible object flickering through my fingertips as I attempt to grasp it. But that’s a lie, isn’t it? Ankle monitor or not, I’ve been at the villa of my own will. Because he loves me, and I love him.

What is Alessandro protecting me from? And why am I suddenly filled with dread?

Footsteps sound, and I retreat.

But Alessandro’s final words carry with me down the hallway.

“I’ll do what’s necessary, capisci?”

SANDRO

“Alessandro.”

Her sleepy murmur makes me hard, and I’m anxious to fuck her one last time before I leave. I deposit her in my bed, tear off her nightgown, and wetting my thumb with saliva, roll it across her clit a few times before I sink inside her warmth with a hiss.

Her falling asleep in her room rather than my bed was an inconvenience. Time is the enemy, after all. But I push that aside as she sweetly arches up to meet my thrusts.

“We need to talk,” she pants at one point.

“My cock is doing the talking. It’ll fill you with enough seed,” I grind out, “my come will be dripping from your sweet pussy all week.”

That shuts her up.

And then, proving I can be soft and tender with her and only her, I make love to her.