Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

“What are you doing here, littlest brother?”

“Nice to see you too, biggest sister.” He grins at me and tilts his head, and suddenly my discomfort vanishes. It’s Santo, the only person who ever really cared about me in our family—except for maybe Franco, but he’s too quiet to really understand—and I’m so happy to see him. I walk over and give him a hug even though we’re not a big hugging family.

He grunts. “What’s this for?”

“It’s just been a while. How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m good.” He sits back down and I join him. I pour myself some tea, but don’t offer him any, much to his relief. He hates the stuff. I don’t know why, just always has. He says it tastes like muddy water, which is kind of fair. “Papa sent me to see you,” he admits, looking a little ashamed.

“Ah,” I say, nodding. That makes sense. “So it’s like that.”

He waves his hands in the air. “No, no, I volunteered. He wanted Enzo to come, but I insisted. I wanted to see you.”

“I’m glad you did. I think I’d throw this tea in Enzo’s face.”

“He’d deserve it and I bet it’d help make him prettier.”

“Why’s Papa checking up on me through you?”

“He’s worried, is all. You haven’t been in touch.”

I shrug and look away. I’ve been so happy spending time with Galina and Emiliya and sleeping with Maxim that I haven’t thought too much about our real reason for being here.

Our future marriage.

“Things are going good,” I say and feel a little guilty about it, like I’ve betrayed my family a second time by finding some small measure of happiness without them.

“Should I tell him that?”

“Yes, please. And tell him that we’re making progress.”

“Right.” Santo looks nervous. He tugs at his shirt awkwardly. “It’s just that, I think he’s losing patience.”

I take a sip of tea. “What’s that mean?”

“It means he’s unhappy about how long it’s taking and how you’re not checking in. He’s even started taking it out on poor Franco.”

“Oh, no, what happened?”

“Ah, the usual. Papa yelling and all that. Franco’s the punching bag now that you’re gone.”

I shake my head. “Papa’s an asshole sometimes.”

“I know, I know. I’m just saying, you should be careful, okay? Call Papa once in a while. That’ll help calm him down I think.”

“Will it help him ease up on Franco?”

“Well, I doubt that.” He grins at me. “Ah, come on, it’s Papa, you know how it goes.”

I do know how it goes. My papa can be a real dick sometimes, and it hurts to know that his ire has shifted onto one of my brothers. I almost wish I could go back and take the brunt of his displeasure again just to save them from having to deal with it, but my life now seems so much sweeter and better than I ever pictured it would. The idea of losing it hurts.

“I’ll call him,” I say quietly and smile. “I’m happy you came, Santo. It’s really good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, biggest sister.” He gives me another of his patented goofy smiles and stands up. “I’ve gotta get going. I have rounds to make and I’d better not be late. Just listen to my warning, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll listen.”

He nods at me and drifts to the doorway. He pauses before he leaves and looks back. “Hey, by the way. I keep wondering something.”

“Yeah?” I tilt my head, holding my teacup in both hands. Its warmth spreads into my palms and fingers.

“This thing with the Russian guy. Is it for real?”

I blink a few times. I’m not sure how to answer. Is it real? We’re actually doing this, if that’s what he means—but I don’t think that’s his question.

He wants to know if I care about Maxim. If this marriage thing is because I want it, or if it’s because that’s our only option.

Two weeks ago, I would’ve said no, absolutely not, it’s not real.

But now?

I shrug a little and smile. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not. Anything for the Familia. Well, in my case anything. In your case, mostly anything, you traitor.” He grins, waves, and leaves.

I watch him go. Maxim returns a minute later and sits across from me. He smiles as he pours himself some tea.

“Is it real then, princess?” he asks quietly.

“Don’t be a dick. Were you listening that whole time?”

He shrugs. “I had to make sure you were safe.”

“Santo is my brother.”

“Brothers can be dangerous, as you well know.”

I sigh and shake my head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you enjoy it. Now, finish that tea. I got home early and I would very much like to spend my free time teaching you the line between pleasure and pain.”

I grin and blush. “Since you put it like that, I guess I have time today.”

Chapter 20

Siena

I shove him back onto the bed as I yank his pants off. He lets out one of those beautiful fuck-you’re-gorgeous grunts that sounds like a heavenly choir singing just for me. Except it’s all raw masculinity and man-desire. So not exactly angelic.