He stomped on the cigarette and picked up the chair so he could sit again. “Mario needs his mother.”
“And not his father? Your own fucking blood who you murdered you sick fuck?” I gritted, my voice cracking, fresh tears stinging my eyes.
“I’ll raise Mario as my own.”
“Fuck you! You’d be dancing on my corpse before I’d let you touch my son.”
“Cosimo might have accepted this attitude from you, but I don’t like women who swear. I’ll forgive you just this once because you’re not thinking straight.”
“Forgive that, bitch.” I produced the biggest ball of phlegm I could muster and spat in his face. It landed right on his cheek beside the corner of his mouth.
He puckered his lips and stood. Then he reached me in two strides and yanked my hair, straining my neck. “I’d mark your face for that, but you have a wedding to attend, so I’ll be generous. Just today.”
I stared at him, rage and disbelief gnashing at me. “Have you gone completely out of your mind? What the fuck are you talking about?”
He let go of me, took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “The family wants you dead, and so do I.” The hatred he had for me popped in his eyes again as he returned to his seat. “But for Mario’s sake, I convinced them you should live.”
My stomach clenched, a heavy wave of nausea hitting me. “On what condition?”
He smirked. He fucking smirked. “You and I will get married.”
“You sick monstrous prick!” I squirmed, kicked and screamed until I fell on my side. Pain seared my side and temple. “If you think for one second you could—”
“Basta! I have zero interest in doing anything with your little ass but kill it. If someone deserved to die here, it’s certainly you. All I’m thinking about is the best interest of my nephew. Isn’t that what you should be thinking about, too? Because if you’re not, maybe you don’t deserve him after all.”
“You know I love my son more than anything. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. But what you’re saying is…” Fucked up was the least thing I could think of. How was I supposed to marry my husband’s brother? His fucking twin who just murdered him? My chest heaved, bile accumulating in my throat. “Enzio…Enzio, you can’t be serious.”
“I am.” His black, Italian shoes walked toward me, dried blood—my husband’s blood—on them. “From where I see it, you have two options. Live, raise your son with a father who’d love, protect and give him everything. Or…die in this warehouse and never see him again.” He bent, his face meeting mine. “What’s it gonna be, dolcezza?”
Chapter 2
Enzio
Bianca Zanetti was our downfall.
The girl Cosimo Lanza loved more than his family, more than anything, more than life itself. The bitch that brought him to his knees, made him turn on his own family and led him to his grave.
I stared at his tombstone for hours, one question in my mind.
Was she worth it?
I’d been asking myself that since I’d left her in the warehouse. Was she worth killing for? Dying for? Did that trash deserve my brother’s love? His soul?
He was the boss of one of the most powerful mafia families in the world. He owned cities, not just here in San Francisco, everywhere. And she was nobody. He could have had anything, anyone, but he chose her. To live with her. To die for her.
My brother’s obsession with Bianca wasn’t something I didn’t know of. The whole city knew, and I’d been there every step of the way. Right from the start.
He was twenty-one, had just paid a visit to a prick that needed to be taught a lesson, and Cosimo almost broke his hand doing it. And there she was, an eight-year-old with a long ponytail, missing teeth and a lisp, walking out of a diner to give my brother a box of bandages.
He never took his eyes or mind off her since.
He scared away any boy who thought about dating her and let Alfarez, the man who raised her, know she was Cosimo’s even if Alfarez didn’t approve.
My brother waited twelve years for the virgincontessato grow up and fall for him. The second she did, he put a ring on her finger and knocked her up. They spent together a year and a half when I’d never seen him happier, but it was also the only time I saw fear and guilt in his eyes.
The last thing he said was her name. He didn’t ask for mercy or forgiveness. He didn’t even tell me to take care of his son. All he said was,save Bianca.
Maybe he had no doubt I’d take care of Mario. That boy took my heart the moment he was born. But Bianca wasn’t to be spared. He must have known. That was why he said it.
