Right, just keep telling yourself that.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sicilian Mafia rule number 8: When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth.
Tex
B
LACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK
, damn it! People were talking to me, touching me, offering me cigars, time at their vacation homes, their freaking daughters and all I could think about was Mo.
In that black dress.
Officially my favorite color of all time.
On her, and only her.
Being impassive when she was in the room was like denying the sun was shining. Deny it all you want, but at the end of the day you’re still going to get burnt if you don’t have sunscreen.
She was searing me.
“More wine?” Speak of the damn devil. Mo carried a bottle in one hand and a little tray of shrimp in the other.
“Lovely.” Frank Alfero winked at Mo. “You read my mind.”
“I try.” She smiled and offered us all food.
“My daughter.” One of the men whose name escaped me began chomping on the shrimp. “She is very beautiful.” He nodded. “Would make a good wife.”
“He’s married,” Mo said through clenched teeth.
“Oh…” The man held up his hand. “I meant no offense.”
“Of course.” Her smile was syrupy sweet.
“Mo.” Sergio walked up to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you go put that down and get some food in your stomach.”
“Oh.” Her brows furrowed. “Okay.”
“I’ll take it.” Sergio sent her on her way and elbowed me while nobody looked. Bastard.
“An attentive spouse is hard to find.” The man lifted his cup to Sergio. Hell. No.
“Isn’t it though?” He tilted his head and walked off, which probably saved his life considering I was contemplating about a thousand different ways to strangle him with my bare hands.
“The Commission.” Frank cleared his throat. “Should be good for us old men to discuss the new bosses.”
“It should.”
They continued to talk, boring me to tears, I tried to appear interested. When the conversation shifted to the Nicolasi family I excused myself and went into the kitchen.
Mo was sitting on one of the barstools laughing while Sergio lifted a grape to her lips.
Was he freaking kidding me?
“Eat,” he commanded.
Mo rolled her eyes and took the grape from his hand popping it into her mouth. Good girl.
She reached for another one, her hand colliding with his. Bad girl, bad, bad, girl. Jolting back, she apologized.
“Never apologize for holding my hand,” he said sternly.
She wasn’t holding your hand jackass, she was reaching for a grape!
“You’re beautiful.”
What right did he have to tell her that? My blood boiled as he tucked a piece of hair, my hair, behind her ear and leaned in.
“Sergio,” I said in clipped tones. “Frank needs you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Go.” I barked.
Slowly, Sergio pulled away from Mo and walked by me, but not before bumping my chest with his shoulder. Yeah keep that up dude, we’ll see who ends up dead by morning.
Mo got up from the stool and started collecting dishes. Her dress hugged every angle of her body like a second skin. Then she bent over the counter, nearly sending me into a fit of hysterics as the dress rose to her ass.
“Mo,” I groaned. “You need to go change.”
Her hand hovered over some of the dishes, I could see every muscle in her body tense before she turned and shrugged a shoulder. “I like my dress.”
“That—” I pointed. “—is not a dress and you know it.”
“Oh yeah?” She turned fully to me, propping her hands on her hips. “What else would it be?”
“Lingerie?” I offered. “I mean if your goal’s to get every guy in this room salivating over you while I watch, then by all means go for it, but don’t come crying to me when one of them corners you and tries to rip that sorry excuse for a piece of clothing from your body.”
With a gasp she put her hands over her mouth, tears filled her eyes.
“Mo—” My voice cracked. “I won’t ask again. It looks… desperate.” Lies, all lies, she looked beautiful, and I couldn’t be in the same room with her, couldn’t even concentrate on breathing in and out if she was going to keep walking around like that. I was ready to murder any guy who looked at her, even the ones I knew that were half blind because of age.
“You should go.” Her voice shook. “Now.”
“Mo—”
“Please.”
I took a step towards her and another, and another, until I was inches from her face.
Make it real!
Phoenix’s voice blared in my head. “You have to make them believe it or you’re sentencing them all to death.”
“Fine,” I seethed, baring my teeth. “Wear whatever you want it’s not like I care anyways. You were just a little crush… something to…” I grinned, hating myself. “Pass the time with. But now that I’ve had you… hell, who cares if they all want to try a sample.”
With a cry she slapped me across the face once then backhanded me. I let her. Better she hate me, better she believe me, better she be alive.
“I hate you.”
I leaned in until our lips almost touched. “Good.”
She stormed past me in tears. I leaned against the counter, letting my head fall slack as my stomach churned with anger and sadness.
“Ouch,” Phoenix said behind me. “I didn’t say to destroy her, just to make her believe it.”
“Not now.” I snapped.
“Bee’s hanging out with Trace and Mil. You better hope they don’t get their claws too deep. Oh, and Nixon wanted me to tell you it’s time for dinner. The men want you to say the prayer.”
I snorted. Right, I was going to talk to God in front of the men I was supposed to kill; that wasn’t sacrilegious, no, not at all.
“May God have mercy on my soul,” I muttered.
“He better…” Phoenix followed me out of the room. “Because I’ve done way worse than you and I’m still hopeful that I won’t rot in Hell.”
“Aren’t we all?” I breathed taking in each of the faces I was going to eventually betray. “Aren’t we all?”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The Cosa Nostra asks only two things, loyalty and silence. How appropriate considering one would die without both.
Tex
I
WENT INTO THE DINING
room expecting to sit next to Nixon, not to my horror, to be seated at the head of the table. Damn, but they were already grooming me; preparing me for the role I never asked for but had no choice to take.
With confidence that felt so fake I wanted to roar, I made my way to the head of the table and stood, taking time to glance at every face. Around forty people were seated at the table. From made men in the Nicolasi clan to associates, to the Alferos.
And they were all looking to me—even Nixon. Though his gaze could be considered more of a mild curiosity than anything. Damn, but I would have loved for him to bust my ass and boss me around at that point, but he’d been right earlier. They all had. Stepping up was the only choice to keep everyone safe, so he wasn’t interfering, and I both hated and loved him for it.
“Omerta, my men of honor.” I lifted my wine glass. “It is humbling to sit before you, to take my birthright back from the grips of insanity, to claim what’s been rightfully mine for over twenty years. I pledge my loyalty, will you also toast to yours?”
Every glass lifted.
Sealed.
Done.
Even Mo, with shaking hands had lifted her glass, and it freaking killed me inside to watch her toast to something so menacing. It was like cheering for the dark side knowing damn well the story wasn’t going to have a happily ever after.
“Salud!”
The men cheered.
I sat as plates were passed around. My gaze couldn’t help but flicker to Mo, but each time I looked at her, she was drawn into herself.
That is until Sergio made her laugh. Again.
Then touched her leg. Once, twice, a third time.
I gripped my fork.
“You alright?” Luca whispered from my left. “If I was a suspicious man I’d say you were… jealous?”
“Luca.” I turned to him, my eyes cold as death. “Shut the hell up before I stab you with my steak knife.”
His grin was wide and unwavering. “Campsi’s, so blood thirsty.”
“Nicolasi’s, so… strategic,” I hinted.
His hand paused mid-air, his wine lifted to his lips but he didn’t sip. “If you mean to accuse me of something, speak plainly.”
I shrugged. “Just… observing.”
“And what do you see? Hmm?”
Phoenix said we could trust Luca… I hated that he was probably right, because I really didn’t like the guy. In fact, I wouldn’t shed a tear if he suffered a stroke, heartless or not, the guy was… slick.
“I see an alternate ending,” I said quietly. “One I control.”
“And if you lose that control?”
“Then we all lose.”
“And if you win?” His eyes took on a dark hue as he leaned forward, his dark hair in direct contrast to his bright eyes. “What happens then?”
“Your plan succeeds.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Bravo.”
“Luca?” Frank asked from across the table.
“Lovely wine, just… the perfect amount of spice, don’t you think gentleman?”
I lifted my glass and stole another glance at Mo. Sergio was touching her hair—again.
And then he wiped something from her face.
I let out a growl and threw my napkin onto the table.
Nobody paid attention to me, but Mo saw the movement, so did Sergio.
I couldn’t make a scene, but I was about to. I was three seconds away from ruining everything because the bastard couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
The hour went by like slow torture, every laugh from their side of the table had me dreaming about murder, every touch drove me to the edge of insanity, and every time she looked at me with those hurt eyes, was like getting shot in the heart with acid soaked bullets.
“Gentleman.” Nixon stood. “Whiskey and Cigars are waiting in the billiards room.”
Everyone stood; myself included, and began filtering out the door towards the billiards room. When Sergio made his way around the table, I grabbed him by the hand, squeezing and whispered, “Make a sound and I’ll break your fingers, starting with your pinky.”
He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. You know something’s wrong when threatening a guy inflicts irritation rather than fear.
The girls all walked by in oblivion—all except Mo.
“Sergio?” Damn the girl was observant.
“Is none of your concern,” I said smoothly. “We just need to have a little… chat. Man to man.”
Mo looked down at our hands and the awkward twisting I was inflicting on Sergio’s. She reached out as if to stop me and whispered, “Tex don’t hurt—”
I gently pushed her away and dragged Sergio down the hall where no one could hear the sounds of bones snapping.
“Tex!” Mo charged after me, her scent wrapped around my head making me fuzzy. Kill, I wanted to kill him for touching her, this was no warning, I would end his life if any part of his body grazed hers again.
“You do not touch her.” I spat in his face and landed a blow to his liver, not hard enough to kill him, just enough to make him hurt worse than if I’d just released a bullet into his skin. “You do not look at her.” I slammed him against the hallway wall and punched him in the jaw. With a curse he toppled over, spitting out blood. I picked him up by the shirt and lifted him against the wall again, this time, my knee met his stomach with a sharp jab. “You do not breathe her same air. She isn’t yours to take care of.”
Sergio grinned, his smile bloody. “What?” Blood spewed from his mouth. “And she’s yours?”
I dropped him to the ground and stabbed my finger in his chest, “Damn right she is!”
“No!” Mo shoved me from behind. “Leave him alone! At least he’s trying to comfort me when all you’ve done is make me cry!” She pounded at my back with her fists. “I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you!”
Sergio held up his hands, his lips twisting with contempt, before storming off. Mo continued her assault on my back. Once the hitting stopped, she started kicking me with her heels.
With a curse I turned around and picked her off the floor. I was going to lock her in her room until she calmed down, the last thing either of us needed was for any of the Family to see her or me in our current state of rage.
“I hate you!” She wailed, still trying to kick anything she could with those spiky heels.
When I kicked the bedroom door behind me and set her on her feet she charged towards me again, fists flying.
“Mo!” I ducked and grabbed her wrists. “Stop it!”
“No!” She jerked against me, tears streamed down her face ruining her makeup. “You don’t get a say anymore! Not when you walk away! Not when you give up without a fight! You’re weak! And I hate you for it! I hate you!”
My heart surged with anger at her words. Didn’t she see I was saving her? Protecting her? With a roar I released her hands and picked her up again, tossing her against the bed, she bounced up once and wrapped her arms around me, maybe trying to choke me out, I wasn’t sure. We fell to the ground in a heap. I tried to get up, but she climbed onto my back and kept hitting.
“Damn it, Mo!” I finally pried her free.
Huffing with exertion she bent over.
And I freaking lost my mind.
It was the only way to explain why, instead of running, I charged towards her and slammed her tight body against the wall hard enough for pictures to crash onto the floor. Her mouth was already open for my kiss when I began devouring her. My hands pinned her wrists hard above her head—it wasn’t enough. With a growl I lifted her off the ground, she gripped my hair with both hands for balance and moaned as my teeth ripped at the front of her dress.
Everything inside of me snapped as my mouth watered at the taste of her—like an animal, I ripped the front of her dress down and set her on her feet only long enough to tug the infuriating piece of clothing away from her body.
She stumbled out of the dress and slapped me across the face.
I rubbed my jaw and smirked. “Do that again, I dare you.”