“Probably forging ties with the cartels. He’s not in Buenos Aires. Doesn't seem to know you’re here.”
“Where?”
“Mendoza. A private vineyard estate.” Mateo slides the manila envelope across the table, and I open it.
That’s Nicolo Guidicelli, alright.
He is pictured stepping off his private jet, followed by his guards.
Nicolo is a member of the Sicilian Mafia, the same one I came from. He and his family mainly deal with prostitution and human trafficking. Part of me wants him to actually show up in Buenos Aires so I can put a bullet to his smug face once and for all.
But a bigger part wants to hold on to the semi-normal life I had made for myself here. One where theLa Famigliaforgot I existed. One where I don’t have to sleep with one eye open all the time.
“How did you get this?” I look up.
I gave Mateo the basics of my background, but I didn’t expect him to be watching the Mafia this close for me. I guess he’s really the best in the game.
“Just doing my job.” He stares at me, stoic as a statue.
“If he sets foot in Buenos Aires, you call me immediately.”
“Of course.”
Our food arrives, and we continue talking about the security requirements for the new club. He suggests giving me bodyguards, too, just in case Nicolo does something funny, but I decline. I already have Gio, and I could protect myself just fine.
“Mateo!” We get interrupted by a woman's voice, and my mood instantly lightens.
I know that voice.
“Kat.” Mateo stands, a frown forming on his face when he sees his sister walking towards us, accompanied by that annoying bodyguard of hers named Julian.
“Why are you here?” Mateo scolds.
“Relax, Teo,” she says before kissing his cheeks. “You can’t scold me like a little girl anymore. I’m twenty-eight.”
Sometimes I can’t even fathom how they’re related to each other. Everything about her is different. Except for the same honey-colored eyes and dark hair they share, they are nothing alike. Mateo is a hard-looking man; tall, muscular, fully tattooed on both arms. He is as intimidating as a security company CEO could be. He’s always cold and grumpy, as if his job is to scare everybody around him.
And Katarina, well, she’s likesunshine.
Smart, sexy, and feisty, with a face that rivals the world's best Victoria's Secret models. She is around 5’7” tall and has curves that demand to be admired.
Said curves are now being hugged by a thin summer dress that is begging to be ripped off.
The best part? She's severely unaware of how she has me wrapped around her finger.
She beams at her brother and asks,“¿Qué hacés acá?“
“Working,” Mateo replies before flipping the photos on the table.
When Katarina’s eyes turn to me, I grin and rise to kiss her cheeks. A familiar burst of sweetness scents the air, and I can’t help the hard-on that strains against my pants.
God, I fucking miss her.
She always smells so sweet and edible, the very reason I call herDolcezza.
“Damiano...” She greets me, and I love the sound of my name coming out of her full lips.
“Ciao, Dolcezza. Miss me?” I tease.
