I was already salivating before I’d met him. Speculating about what he could have done to climb up the ranks to get to where he was. Then I’d seen him. Slick, short-cut onyx hair scraped back tightly, narrow eyes glinting in cold brown, thin eyebrows, and a thinner nose and lips. His face had a sculpted tightness to it that could only come from a harsh life. It extended to his tattoo, which he wore on his neck like a scarf, in a pattern of a snakeskin that wrapped around it and dipped down, slinking underneath his tight black t-shirt, which rippled when he breathed or moved.
He was a forbidden apple put before me. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I had wanted to. I had to find out how deep the tattoo went. Did it cover his torso, his belly, fuck, his dick?I wanted him like an addict on withdrawal wanted their drug. My thighs clenched every time he entered a room. My insides twisted like a poisonous knife every time he followed Daria. So I hounded him. Seduced him. Relentlessly.
He hadn’t given in, putting my will to the test. He’d told me he was loyal to theCosa Nostra. Shoved my attention aside, unlike any man I’d cared enough to give it to. It had only fuelled my need. He was the prize. I wanted him, and I was having him. I’d told him so myself. If anything, I had been honest. He should fuck his loyalty and fuck me instead. He’d refused and held out for months.Months.A fucking joke.
At first, I’d thought he wanted my sister. Daria was always at the centre of men’s attention. Except I’d catch his gaze lingering on me, following me around. When he thought I wasn’t looking, he was eating me up like his favourite meal. When all he had to do was give in. I wanted him so badly that I forgot about all the willing men I had at my disposal. There was something about him that drove me insane with need. And one night, I put an end to the chase.
I’d strolled out of the house when darkness had long fallen and sought him outside patrolling the garden. I was naked. He froze. I’d dropped to my knees and taken his thickening dick in my mouth before he could react. I wanted him to be like every other man. As it turned out, he was. He lost control, and I was the fucking queen again. Strangely, it was both a disappointment and a thrill. I had wanted him to be different.
But just like my father, I used sex to get my high. Luigi Santone, though, was a different kind of drug.Mykind of drug. The more I had him, the more I wanted him. He made me forget. Every time we fucked, the rage burning me alive turned into something else. He made me reckless too. I fucked him everywhere, hoping Carlo would find us. But he never did. Then Carlo was killed, and my plans to detonate him fell apart. I waslost. Didn’t know what to do with all the hate I’d kept bottled up. I’d had one mission my entire life, and when it fell apart, I spun out of control.
Inside the kitchen, Mamma video-called Daria. A twitch of guilt clouded my vision. Daria had called me two months ago, heartbroken when she’d found out I was the one who’d orchestrated the don’s choice. He should have married me. That had at least been my brother’s plan when he arranged my marriage to the don from New York. Vitale had told me, in the very kitchen where Mamma now sat, that we needed alliances. The imbalance after Carlo’s death was showing the cracks in the Di Matteofamiglia. Desperation was all I felt at leaving behind my newfound addiction. Luigi Santone was the only thing holding me afloat, and I didn’t want to lose him. I couldn’t, just like I couldn’t stop my vindictive moves. I manipulated my family with a vengeance. The moment I was alone with the don, I told him he should marry Daria instead. And predictably, he did. Because that was Daria. He’d taken one look at her and needed little convincing to shift his interest. Everyone fell for the Princess.
Everyone except Luigi Santone. Two weeks before Daria married the unhinged don, I’d been married off to her bodyguard. It wasn’t what Luigi wanted. That was clear enough when he’d pushed me to marry the don. He’d warned me not to mess it up. “Ti amo, but I am not sacrificing theCosa Nostrafor this. Promise me, or this stops now.” ‘This’ meant him buried inside me for our ‘last fuck’ when he’d uttered those crude words before coming gallantly inside me. But that wasn’t up to him. Vitale had arranged our union to save face.Cosa Nostrawas about traditions. My brother, no matter how much he’d wanted to, couldn’t start breaking traditions two months after taking charge of thefamiglia. It wouldn’t do to have the second daughter married before the eldest. In the end, I got what Iwanted, even if Luigi Santone hadn’t. A glaring fact in my face every time I looked at my husband.
Until three months ago, I’d thought I could live with that. But then my reality changed, everything shifted, and suddenly the constant weight within my chest cavity was suffocating me.
In my delusion, I’d always thought confirmation would be better than the continuous doubt. It wasn’t. The confirmation that came in the shape of my biological mother didn’t give me what I’d hoped for. Relief. Freedom. A sense of belonging. Instead, it only drowned me in a whirlwind of chugging emotions. Where she’d ripped my heart and carved my insides out.
She’d turned up like karma on the day of Daria’s wedding, looking like the mirror image of me. Two weeks after I’d married Luigi myself. Everything had already been falling apart that day. Vitale had found out what I’d done. The disappointment in his gaze had pierced through my burning heart more than the anger in his tone. “You sacrificed your little sister,” he’d yelled at me. Even though I’d done exactly that, I hadn’t liked the way his words had made me feel. Unease had gripped my heart. But it was too late for Daria. The don’s ring was on her fragile finger, and he didn’t look the type to let his new wife go without a blood-tainted ending. It didn’t matter, anyway. I didn’t want any of them. Yet I did.
I sank back against the tree trunk. All I could see was that day. I’d rushed home in a panic. Torn between telling my family to fuck themselves and dropping to my knees and asking for penance. Then she’d been there. While my family was celebrating my sister, my world had fallen apart. She had looked so old, crouched on my doorstep. A body withered with hard labour and a heart brewing with hatred. In all the times I’d imagined the truth coming out, it had never been like that. I’d pictured a thousand scenarios. None of them was the reality.She’d told me in a twisted rage she’d birthed me. Sacrificed her beautiful body to have me as her meal ticket. It was my fault she hadn’t got anything out of it. While I had lived lavishly, she’d had to make ends meet. It was time I paid for the debt of thirty years, she’d said. Twenty-nine, but what was a year more or less when three decades had passed? It was either that, or she was telling everyone. I’d been relieved. I couldn’t care less who she told. But then I’d thought of Luigi Santone, and everything inside me had ground to a stop. A man who hadn’t wanted to marry me in the first place wouldn’t hang around to stay married to the bastard of Carlo Di Matteo, would he? Because that was what I was. I’d yearned for a label for all these years. She’d given me one, and it wasn’t pretty.
A heavy hand landed softly on my shoulder. I didn’t need to look to know it was my husband. Only two men knew of my odd stalking habit. Vitale preferred to let me be and ignored me. That only left the man who was the reason I’d dug into my purse and given that woman my money. Why I’d gone inside with her and raided my jewellery drawer and given her everything I owned.
“It’s time to go home.” A note of worry hid in his tone.
Mamma was no longer in the kitchen. The lights were out. The house was dark. Another day had passed. I turned, and my husband stood with his hand held out. He was just a black shape in the darkness. But he was mine and comforting. His warm hands gripped my cold, lifeless ones and walked me quietly to the car. He never asked for an explanation, and he always found me. Most days, I thought it was because he didn’t care, but sometimes, I thought it was because he did.
Was he worried about me? I had been worried about him coming home early and finding her there. I’d rushed her outside, and then I’d cleaned the house from top to bottom. But even when I’d gotten rid of my clothes and scrubbed my skin raw, I couldn’t rid myself of her. Her words echoing off the walls.Her image blurring my eyes. I wanted to forget her like a nasty nightmare. But I couldn’t.
All it did was shrink my heart in its cavity and turn it into stone. My mind was withdrawn, and it rioted. I couldn’t handle the overwhelming emotions eating at me from the inside out like a flesh-eating disease. Pain was a constant throb in my chest. Betrayal overwhelmed me. The man who was the cause of it all was six feet under. I couldn’t hurt him anymore. But I wanted someone to hurt like I was hurting. The woman who’d birthed me was too far gone to feel anything.
The only one I could take it out on was Mamma. Which is why I let my spiteful vengeance out on her. Even if I knew I was hurting her, I couldn’t stop myself. It was all her fault for taking me in. She was dead to me. Even if she filled my vision through the kitchen window, she meant nothing to me. Just like my sisters or my brother. I’d pushed them all away. I didn’t need any of them. Eventually, all the visits had died down. The calls had stopped.
We were in front of the car, and Luigi opened the door for me. I must have been cold, because the blanket he covered me with made me feel warm. He pulled out a thermos, producing a cup of steaming coffee. The cold faded away, and warmth glided in.
Luigi tucked a loose hair behind my ear before walking to the other side and sliding into the driver's seat. When the engine revved, he took my hand and kept it encased in his hand as he shifted gears. Everything had frozen to a stop except for Luigi Santone.
I didn’t understand why this man kept coming back to me. But that too would come to pass. I was sure of it.
CHAPTER TWO
ORIETTA
Apackage had arrived for the man who was my obsession. His sister’s name was written on it in thick, bold letters, contaminating our life with her presence. He gave it a shake before ripping it open. Dark hands crawled inside me. I wanted him to be mine. Only mine. The contents might as well have been anthrax. He was standing there in the middle ofourliving room, opening another woman’s package. I couldn’t see past my monsters to fathom it was only his sister. That was why I couldn’t be attached to this man. He was pulling me down. No man was worth that.
I hated the smile that spread across his lips as he pulled out a t-shirt. My chest tightened, and I turned to hide the burn in my eyes. The coffee rippled in the cup I held. I didn’t understand why. When I put it down, it rattled against the saucer. I wasn’t going to look. I couldn’t not look, and before I knew it, my gaze was back on him. The man I’d manipulated into a marriage. He was perfect. Except for what he held in his hand, a worn black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it.
“It’s from my favourite band.”
As if I wanted to know.
He pulled off the t-shirt he was wearing, also black but new, whichIhad bought for him, and discarded it for the one that looked like it had been found in a rat-infested sewer.
“She found it in the attic.” He was holding up a note and read it aloud to me, “Mio caroLuigi, I found this in the attic among Mamma’s old things. Remember how you used to wear this to seduce the girls? It seemed to work, too. I thought you’d like to have it back instead of chucking it in the bin.Conamore, tua sorella,Gianna.”
A feral line of jealousy shot through my body. Intense hatred for the vile thing spread in my veins. Was he remembering the good old days? Regretting marrying me? Was that why he’d discarded what I’d bought to wear this?
