Vengeful Mafia Prince (Vicious Heirs #2)

Chapter Eight—Giovanni

"What exactly did you want to talk about?" I demand. My sister is pacing the living room of our parents' opulent mansion, a glass in one hand, a furrow in her brow.

"I told you, we need to talk about what's going on with you," she shoots back. "I've hardly seen you since... since you started everything with this Elena girl. And now, I'm hearing that you're going to be going for this full-time job there, and it doesn't make sense to me because—"

"Val. Stop."

I lift my hand to stop her in her tracks. She turns to face me, taking a sip of the vodka on the rocks in her glass.

"Don't ever call me that," she warns.

I can't help but chuckle. "You've been trying to get me to stop calling you that your whole life," I remind her. "If it hasn't happened yet, it's not going to happen now. Alright?"

She glares at me for a moment but soon gives in, offering me a small smile.

"You're such an asshole."

"Agreed," I reply. "Now, tell me what you wanted to talk to me about. I have stuff to take care of."

"Like what?"

"Like a report for college."

She cocks an eyebrow, shaking her head, clearly not quite able to believe what she's hearing.

"College," she repeats after me with amusement. "I still can't believe you're going through with all of that."

"It's a means to an end, Valentina," I remind her. "I'm not looking to get a degree."

"Yeah, I know. I get it. You're working to bring down that business. But I haven't seen anything of you since this all started, and I'm getting worried."

"Because I'm busy. There's shit I need to take care of. I can't be coming back here every night after work, it's too dangerous—"

"And you don't think it's too dangerous otherwise?" she fires back sharply. "You don't think you're putting yourself at risk, getting involved with this family in the first place?"

"Maybe," I reply with a shrug. "But I can handle myself."

"What about the girl?" Valentina demands. "Have you gotten any closer to... to getting what you need from her?"

The memory of our encounter the day before in the supply closet flits through my mind. Nobody, not even Valentina, knows about what I've been up to with her in terms of our sexual relationship, and I want it to stay that way.

"I'm getting there," I reply.

"And you're sure it's not going further than you can handle?" she asks, concern lacing her voice.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she snaps back. She only gets angry like this when she's worried. I'm touched she gives so much of a damn about me, but at the same time, I don't need her getting up in my face about this.

"I mean, can you pull yourself out if things go south?" she demands.

I fall silent for a moment. It's a good question. Walking away from the job, from the college, that wouldn't be too hard, given that I'm registered at both with a fake name. There's no way they would be able to tie anything back to me in real life, I'm sure about that.

But what about walking away from her? From Elena? That's something else entirely, something I'm not sure is going to be quite as easy. I might not be presenting my true self to her, but as far as I know, she's giving me the real version of herself, and that version is one that I like. She's got nerve, she stands up to me, and she's not afraid to bite back. But at the same time, she's got this deep, submissive streak in her that I love teasing out.

I shift in my seat and then nod.

"Yeah, of course I can, Valentina."

She narrows her eyes at me. "You sure about that?"

"Don't I sound sure?"

"No." She's blunt with me, the way only family can be.

I rise to my feet and head to the vintage drink cart that sits next to the window to pour myself a generous scotch. It's from a bottle my father got for himself for his 50th birthday. He never had time to drink it, but I've been steadily working through it since he passed. Not as though I don't have plenty of reason to drink.

I take a long sip and then turn back to my sister.

"Valentina, you know how important this is to me," I tell her directly. "And you know I'm not going to pretend like it doesn't matter. I'm going to bring the Westbrook family down, and I don't give a damn what it takes."

"Yeah, well, I do," she protests. "I care about my family, Giovanni, even if you don't care about yourself. And I'm sure as hell not going to lose anyone else, you hear me?" Her voice cracks as she finishes up, the pain evident on her face.

I frown. I hate seeing her like this. The two of us, we're all we have. I know it's not fair, putting her through all of this after what she's already lost, but she can't expect me to just stand back and let the people who killed our parents walk free.

"How long is this going to take?" she demands, covering up the sadness with fire again.

"There are about six weeks left till they decide who's going to get this position. By then, I'll have it all under control. You have my word on that."

She flicks her gaze up to meet mine. "You sure about that?"

"Certain."

That seems to soothe something in her. Slowly, she lets out a long breath and nods.

"Okay," she replies. "Just... just stay vigilant, okay? I don't trust these motherfuckers. Not one bit. I don't trust them not to have pulled you into this because they know damn well what you're planning and then turn around and hurt you when they get the chance."

"I'm on top of it," I assure her calmly, taking another sip of my drink. But even as the words come out of my mouth, I feel a twinge of doubt.

Am I? Can I be, when I'm doing the things I'm doing with Elena? I can tell myself it's all about making her vulnerable, getting her to open up to me in ways she's never opened up to anyone before, but the longer it goes on, the more it's clear to me that there's more to our connection than I could have accounted for.

And I don't know exactly where to draw the line.

Or if I even can any more.