“Definitely not ugly,” our adopted brother confirms in his deep baritone.
“I just don’t see why I have to get married at all,” I grumble, staring into my tumbler of whiskey.
“Of course not,” Gio chides, patting my shoulder as he passes behind the sofa to pour himself a drink as well. “It’s not like Mafia bosses need heirs or anything.”
“Raf’s married. Why can’t I just make his kid my heir whenever he and Genevieve get around to it?” I demand, gesturing to my baby brother.
“I think I’m already half a step from being disowned for marrying a woman Father didn’t approve of,” Raf says, his grin turning dry. “I doubt he or any of the more traditional families who pay tribute to us would consider that a legitimate heir.”
“I think that has more to do with your marrying a whore and less to do with your eloping,” Miko observes flatly, the lack of emotion in his tone softening the blow just slightly.
If anyone else had called Genevieve a whore, I have no doubt Raf would kill them on the spot—even me—but Miko doesn’t mean it as an insult. He just says things as he sees them.
“Hey, she was not a whore,” Raf says. “I met her at Portentia’s.”
“Prostitutesdowork at the sex club,” I point out.
“Screw you guys. My wife isnota prostitute.” Grabbing a fistful of pistachios from the bowl on the side table, Raf launches them at me and Miko, making me laugh.
“Calm down. We know she isn’t…” I say, flashing him a grin. “Anymore.”
“I’m going to knock out your teeth,” Raf snarls, rising from the couch.
“Easy, Raf,” Gio says, stepping in to be the peacemaker, as usual. “Leo’s just giving you a hard time because he’s jealous you got to pick the woman you married.”
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” I concede, downing the rest of my drink and setting the tumbler on the table beside me. “Though I’d rather not pick anyone at all.”
“You’re such a manwhore.” Gio grins as he shakes his head.
Snorting, Raf drops back onto the couch, Gio taking the spot beside him now that the situation is defused.
“Hey, variety is the spice of life,” I say nonchalantly. “I see nothing wrong with sampling all the options as long as they’re offering themselves up so willingly.”
“It doesn’t count when you have to pay them,” Raf quips, trying to get under my skin.
But even if the razzing sounds harsh, this is exactly what I needed.
A bit of verbal sparring to remind me that misery loves company, and my brothers are the only people in the world who could understand the cross I bear.
This is what we do—we give each other a hard time because it reminds us that we’re not in this alone.
“Is that why you married Genevieve?” I ask. “So you wouldn’t have to keep paying her?”
“That’s it. You’re done,” Raf snaps, launching off the couch a second time.
Again, Gio hauls him back down.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I warn my youngest brother. “Especially when your fighting half is AWOL.”
“Speaking of which, where is Sandro?” Miko asks, glancing around the room for Rafael’s twin as if only just noticing there aren’t two of them present.
“Where do you think?” Raf asks, shaking off Gio’s grip and slouching back into his seat.
Sighing heavily, I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my head to rub my temples with my thumbs.
No doubt he’s slumming it in Irish Mafia territory, going a few rounds in the Murrays’ bare-knuckle fighting pits. “We'd better go get him before things get out of hand. The last thing I need is a second family to make peace with.”
3
