Dirty Mafia Sinner (Dirty Mafia Kingdom #2)

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

SANDRO

“Take her to your hotel.”

It’s my first official order from the new capo di tutti capi, which comes after the last of the Eleven leave the cemetery. I hesitate, three seconds shy of telling my father to get his head out of his ass, but Alessia pleads with me to keep quiet.

I had an epiphany this afternoon while staring into my godfather’s grave. Fuck this arrangement with Alessia Amato. Not only am I not going through with this marriage but it’s time the great Sebastiano Beneventi sees the light.

Alessia’s quiet as she slides into the backseat of the limousine next to me. I take out my phone, which I turned off for the vote and funeral service, and turn it on. Message after message pop up on the screen, all saying the same thing: Renzo and Riley are gone.

I call Tommaso.

“Tried reaching you, Sandro. They escaped.”

“How?”

“That crazy motherfucker jumped off the cliff.”

My fingers tighten around the phone. “And Riley?”

Alessia makes a face, blatantly eavesdropping on my conversation. I glare at her until she looks away. My love life isn’t her business, and it never will be.

“Escaped through the cellar tunnel. Renzo must have discovered it existed and told her.”

“They can run, but we’ll get them.” I pull up the monitor app, then grind my teeth. “Either they never left or returned home.” Or my asshole brother wiggled them free of the devices.

“Search the entire fucking island.”

“I’m headed there to do so myself.”

She told me she loved me. Why wouldn’t she wait for me?

The answer comes at me like a hammer to the head. What did Renzo tell her?

“Call me with an update.” I disconnect, toss my cell onto the seat, and then lean back and close my eyes.

So this is what it feels like to be dumped.

Alessia clears her throat.

“Not now.”

“I saw her.”

I shoot up in the seat and swing toward her.

“Your girlfriend. The gorgeous redhead.”

“Where?”

“On the hill overlooking the funeral.”

Rolling my fingers into a ball, I slam my fist into the driver’s seat. “Stop the motherfucking car.”

The driver pulls over, and I’m out and running.

“Sandro,” Alessia shouts after me.

I race down the city street, mindless of the puddles soaking my expensive shoes or the suit jacket and tie I’ve tossed aside. In a dead run, I turn into the cemetery and follow the driveway to the midway mark, where I then cut between tombstones to reach the hill. Panting, I push on, hiking to the top and charging forward, searching everywhere for signs of her.

But Riley’s nowhere to be found.

My asshole brother couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he?

I punch a tree. There’s a panoramic view of the gravesite below. Knowing what she saw and the presumptions she made … Hell, I only decided an hour ago to bail on my obligation.

“Fuck.”

The limousine is waiting for me when I reach flat ground. Alessia doesn’t say a word when I climb back in beside her.

My chest hurts like I’m having a heart attack. Riley left me.

“Sandro?”

“Let’s get drunk.”

I call for an update on the hour, every hour.

And every goddamn second, my despair grows.

But I can’t hunt my girl down while this marriage bullshit has yet to be resolved. It’s nearly eleven at night, and I’m so shitfaced I’m not just seeing double, but Renzo’s smug face hovering over me. I punch the air, trying to nail him in the head with my fist and wipe that fucking “I told you so” expression from his ugly mug.

Beside me on the floor, Alessia laughs at my antics.

I tap my whiskey glass to her empty wine bottle. “Here’s to Renzo, running wild and free.”

We drink more, and I call for another update.

Alessia watches the clock. She’s worried my father won’t return, but, although I’m anxious to get this bullshit over with, I know my father won’t be long. He’ll entertain the Eleven like they’re celebrities while establishing his authority and making them believe their say is important. Then he’ll return to pull the same shit on us, minus the Hollywood treatment.

I rub my chin and try to see things from his perspective. “He’s never committed to a woman before,” I mutter. “Having two heirs to carry on the Beneventi name without marrying allowed him the freedom to do whatever the fuck he wants.”

Like break her heart.

Jesus. It’s the whiskey bringing out the human side in me. Since when do I care about Alessia Amato’s tender heart?

Alessia stares at her wine like it’s suddenly been poisoned.

But the fact is my father’s obsessed with her. What he needs is a slap in the face and a wake-up call. “If you love him, really love him, then you’ll need to teach him how to love a woman. Because I’m not sure he’s capable of it.”

She looks pale.

“I said too much.” I mutter. She’s as much a victim of my father’s ambition as I am, and as fucking annoying as it’s been seeing her underfoot at the Beneventi estate, I might have been a dick but I never actually hated her.

Her eyes light up with an idea. “Next time he mentions the wedding, we tell him no. What’s the worst he’ll do? Lock us in the dungeon?”

Yeah, she’s likeable, and a perfect match for him .

My perfect woman, despite my slapping a goddamn ankle monitor on her and expecting her to stay put, has escaped me.

I take another deep drink, and Alessia follows suit. Until we’re two drunk assholes acting out situations that’d piss off my father.

Fierce pounding on the hotel room door interrupts us.

I brace myself as the door swings open and my father staggers in. “You didn’t book her a room.”

Thumb, meet button I’m about to press. Because we Beneventi loathe sharing our toys, and women. I toss an arm around her shoulder. “She’s spending the evening with her fiancé.”

Dumbfounded—there’s no better word for his reaction. It’s understandable, considering how my relationship with Alessia has been like navigating a minefield, with his future wife cautiously stepping around the explosives I set to go off.

He scowls.

And then his gaze descends on her.

I hold my breath as stubborn pride battles it out with possessive asshole . I squeeze her shoulder, and if I wasn’t his son—wasn’t his only reliable heir—I’d be dead about now. His eyes narrow and nostrils flare, and suddenly months of bullshit goes up in flames like dry brush.

“Get your hands off her,” he snaps, “or I’ll break every finger.”

Music to my goddamn ears.

“You”—he addresses Alessia as I unwind—“were supposed to be alone and waiting.”

“But instead I’m with my fiancée.”

She’s good at this.

“Not anymore,” he flatly replies.

Alessia doesn’t catch on right away, not realizing I’m the “not anymore.”

The only thing that’d make what plays out next better is popcorn.

And Riley.

Run all you want, baby. But I’ll find you, soothe your worries, and then spank your ass pink. And you’ll love every second of it.

My father whisks Alessia up and hauls ass out the door. Leaving me to crawl over to where I tossed my cell and call for an update.