I need to get my shit together.
I pull myself straight, forcing my lust down. I go to my closet and exchange my soaked shirt and pants for a new pair.
When I open the bedroom door, Lorenzo is standing there, a knowing look etched on his face. Gio stands a respectful distance behind him, both their eyes narrowing at me.
“Your friends are waiting downstairs,” Lorenzo says in Sicilian. His eyes flicker toward the bathroom door, and his frown deepens until a smirk tugs on his lips.
“Control yourself, will you?” he says.
I ignore him and shrug into my jacket.
“She was covered in filth and blood. I wasn’t gonna leave her alone to tend to herself.” I say before turning to Gio.
“You’re staying outside this door. No one enters without my permission. Not even that bodyguard of hers.” He gives me a curt nod, not bothering to hide the smile on his face.
Lorenzo watches me carefully.
“Why was she running away?” He asks.
“She found out who I really am.”
“You didn’t tell her before you took her here?!” He exclaimed.
“She was passed out the whole time.”
Lorenzo stares at me, eyebrows raised so high they practically disappear into his hairline. “Unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head like he can’t decide if I’m a genius or an idiot.
“I hope you have a good explanation for this,fratellino. You and your idiot friends better not be planning on starting trouble.” He warns.
“Of course.” I grin.
Our father has long left Lorenzo to deal with me. I was always headstrong, and my father never knew how to control me. He thinks my mother spoiled me too much. As a result, it was always Lorenzo who “cleans up my mess” when I “get into trouble”. Not that it's true, he’s just exaggerating.
In the lavish living room, I find Andreas Moretti and Lucian Soleri, the two most chaotic heirs of theLa Famiglia—my best friends. As my closest allies, we are a destructive force honed by our titles and rigorous training, guaranteed to cause trouble wherever we go. Together, we are a headache Lorenzo barely tolerates.
Andreas, looking like he stepped off a runway in Milan fashion week, sits on a velvet sofa, his long legs crossed, a glass of vodka in his hand. A choice of drink his Russian bloodline demands from him. Lucian stands by the fireplace, his posture coiled and ready like he has too much energy he can’t contain.
“Ah, the prodigal son returns,” Lucian says in Sicilian, his grin wide as he opens his arms to give me a brotherly hug. The waves of his jet black hair are long enough to touch his shoulders now, but his brown eyes are still full of mischief.
“Miss me?” I tease, grinning at the men I consider my chosen brothers.
“Certamente!This place has been a tomb,mè frati. How could you abandon us like that?” Lucian adds, his smile flashing his famous tooth gap.
“Is la calamità as beautiful as the legend suggests?” Andreas purrs, sipping his vodka.
“She’s off limits.” I flatly warn.
“Now would you look at that? I thought I’d never see the day you lock in on one woman.” Andreas laughs as he rises and pulls me in for a hug and puts a kiss on each of my cheeks. He smiles like the Cheshire cat, his blue eyes the color of ice.
I ignore their teasing and take a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart to pour myself a drink before joining them on the sofa. Lucian follows and takes his seat beside me while Lorenzo takes the armchair beside Andreas.
“What do you have?” I ask Andreas, and as if summoned by his mind, he nods, and my phone buzzes from a data dump. I open it and read.
Katarina Flores (DOB: Feb 20, 1998)
Mateo Flores (DOB: Jan 6, 1992)
Summary:
