“And you think he wants me?” Seven asked, heartbeat skipping.
“Oh, I know he does. He would have never had the balls to bring you into my restaurant and parade you around in front of me and his sisters if he wasn’t secretly hoping we’d adopt you.”
Seven shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true. I think he just wanted me to be comfortable when he asked me to be his sugar baby or whatever.”
“He likes you,bellino.Trust me on that. He’s just too afraid to admit it.”
Something curdled in Seven’s stomach. “I doubt it.”
“You’ll see.” Mama smiled. “But promise me one thing.”
Seven nodded. “Anything.”
“If you do decide to forgive my son, you make him grovel.”
“Grovel?” Seven repeated.
Mama nodded. “Yes. What is it you kids say? Walk him like a dog.”
1 month after that night
There was evil.
There was diabolical.
And then there was his mother.
Enzo took another slug of the expensive scotch in his etched crystal glass, then shook his head. He was sat slumped in his seat at the back of Lost Eden, and he could feel the eyes around him, watching. He wasn’t one to just sit around drinking; whenever he came, he came to play. But not tonight. He’d already waved off no fewer than three boys who’d offered to spend some time with him. But he wasn’t in the mood. He was too busy seething.
He grabbed the bottle of Glenfiddich, popping the top and pouring another healthy shot into his glass. What the fuck was she thinking? What had he ever done to her?
“What did I ever do to her?” he asked out loud as his brother dropped into the seat opposite him.
Vincenzo Conti—Vince to those who knew him—raised a brow, flipping his own rocks glass upright before tugging the bottle from Enzo’s hand and pulling it towards himself. Enzo watched, expression sullen, as his brother poured a fingerful for himself, then gently slid the bottle to the center of the table.
“So, it’s true?” Vince asked. “Mom got Blackwood to hire him? Is that why you’re muttering to yourself like some lunatic conspiracy theorist?”
Enzo ignored his brother’s snarky assessment, taking in his usual all black outfit. “I refuse to be talked down to by someone dressed like some mafioso in a bad romance novel.”
“Right.I’mthe one who looks like a criminal here,” Vince said, giving him a hard once-over.
Enzo glanced down at his maroon button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, then to his black work pants. “I just came from work.”
“With all that ink, you look like you’re planning a prison break, Michael Scofield.”
Enzo snorted, snatching the bottle back and filling his glass, ignoring the amber liquid still sitting untouched.
“Come on,” Vince said, “tell me what happened. I keep getting conflicting stories.”
“Mom was mad at me, so she got even by getting my one-night stand a paid internship at my company,” Enzo answered.
“Since when does Mom care about your bed buddies?” Vince asked.
Enzo huffed out a breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Since he was one of Navarro’s kids.”
“Jericho Navarro-Mulvaney?” Vince pressed, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious. Why the fuck would you go after one of them?”
“He came after me,” Enzo shot back. “He texted me. He propositionedme. It was only supposed to be a one-night stand,and now, I get to look at him every day giggling at Owen Grayson.”
