Also, my cousin never showed emotion and only spoke when spoken to. Which made his earlier comments, baffling. Since my father rescued him and his mother from destitution, Paolo had developed selective mutism. He took orders well and never questioned anything, until just now.
Admittedly, he’d caught me off guard but in a good way. He was the strongest man I knew, could kill a person with his bare hands, and would have no problem defending himself. But I felt sorry for him. His life was not his own, and it wouldn’t be until my father’s death.
I imagined Paolo didn’t feel safe enough to speak, and that wasn’t okay with me. The rumors floating around about me weren’t totally true. I wasn’t a heartless and ruthless man, but I’d never correct the lie. It was better to have people fearing me instead of trying to destroy me and the Remotti empire.
“How do you romance someone?” Paolo asked in a low voice, keeping his gaze on his glass.
“How do I personally romance someone or is that a general question?” If it had been anyone else, I would have made fun of them. Called them an idiot or loser. But not Paolo.
“Never mind.” He stood and went to the bar, refilling his glass.
“I spoiled Isla,” I told him, disregarding hisnever mindand answering his question honestly. “Fancy restaurants, shopping sprees, walks on the beach at sunset, flowers justbecause. That might sound cliché, but every man needs to find his own way of doing things.”
“She wanted all that?”
“Nope. She never asked for anything, unlike other women I’d dated. Isla is a quality time and physical touch person. Material items didn’t mean anything to her.” I pondered my words, shocked that I’d known what her love language had been all along.
“If things didn’t matter to her, why did you spoil her?” Paolo returned to his chair, bringing the bottle of bourbon with him and setting it on the coffee table. This engaging side of Paolo was foreign to me. Typically, I did all the talking and he did all the listening.
“That’s a very good question, cousin.”
He reared his head back but maintained his composure despite me calling him cousin. Padre, my brothers, and I hadn’t treated him like family since he was a young boy. He’d been reduced to servant status, and it wasn’t until now that I felt a little guilty about it.
No child asked to be born into a ruthless crime family. But we couldn’t pick and choose our parents. Some got lucky and others were cursed. Either way, we often paid the price for our father’s sins with our own life, like Paolo. I wouldn’t wish being born into a Mafia on any innocent child, which was why I didn’t want any.
Pretending I didn’t notice his reaction, I continued. “I’m not a psychologist, but I wager the way I treated Isla was for her safety. If I’d given her the things she really wanted. For instance, marriage and a baby, she would’ve fallen deeper in love with me. And vice versa. I would have fallen in love with her.”
“But you were in love with her.”
“How do you know?” I hiked my brow, interested in how he’d come to that conclusion. It wasn’t lost on me that Isla had been the one and only woman I’d kept around longer than a month. For over a year, she’d been by my side and in my bed. Of course, my family noticed, but none of that meant I loved her.
“It’s in your eyes, even now as you talk about her.”
“Well, shit.” I blinked as if it would change the damning truth. The fucking booze lowered my defenses and revealed my heart. The glare I usually wore hadn’t been natural, but forced, especially around Isla.
“You can’t hide it from me. I see everything,” Paolo said.
“I suppose you do.” I finished my drink and reached for the bottle to refill my glass. “Do you think it’s a bad idea reconnecting with Isla?”
“I don’t know.” He stared off into the distance. “I never give women much thought.”
“Good.” I raised my glass, praising him. “They’re nothing but trouble. We’re Mafia men. Remottis. Cursed until we take our last fucking breath.” I swallowed my drink in one gulp and reached for the bottle.
“I’ll order some food.” Paolo stood and went to the hotel’s phone.
“I don’t want to eat. Just drink.”
“But sir?—”
“Don’t call me sir!” I yelled. Or it felt like I yelled. I couldn’t be for certain with the fast pounding in my eardrums, matching my rapid heartbeat. “I’m your goddamn cousin, Ciro!”
“Yes, sir.”
“I said call me Ciro!” I jumped out of my chair and threw my empty glass at the wall. My feet stumbled over each other,but I didn’t fall. I was long past the buzzing phase, after my fourth or fifth drink.
Paolo moved slowly toward me, probably preparing to catch me when I fell on my ass. But I was the fucking Don of the Remotti Mafia. Making a fool of myself was unacceptable.
Isla’s beautiful face flashed behind my eyes. She’d cut her hair short and had on very little makeup, but she didn’t need to paint her face. I liked her best au naturel. When she’d gone to get us water, she seemed to have put on a little weight. Her hips were curvier than I recalled and her breasts were fuller.
