CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: VITO
Ididn’twantto mean the words I said to Winter.
I didn’t want her to believe that I didn’t care about her, because I do. And that’s the exact problem. When you live this life, you can’t care about anyone outside of the family. Especially when you know that person is marked for an unfortunate fate.
I squeeze the shot glass in my hand, my jaw tightening as light brown hair fills my vision. I push the thought away before it can fully form.
This is about Winter, I don’t need to think about the one before her.
I toss the shot back, barely feeling the burn. I slam the empty glass back down onto my desk and I place my forehead against the wood. I know that I need to get myself together, get my thoughts and inhibitions in line. But as much as I’ve been telling myself the same thing over and over again for weeks, no months, I haven’t been able to get straight.
I’ve never felt the way I feel about Winter with anyone else.
Not even her.
The infatuation I feel for the curly haired beauty is uncommon, and it pushes me to think things that should never cross the mind of anyone in the family, especially not the fixer.
But the truth is, I broke a couple of years ago and while I’ve been fixing everyone else and putting their problems out of the way, I’ve only allowed my own problems to fester. And now they’re going to bite me in the ass, while Giovanni puts one right in my chest, or maybe my head.
I really don’t know how Giovanni would kill me. It’s not a thought I’ve ever had to entertain before now. But since I seem to be on a path right into betrayal of the family, it’s something I should be considering.
I’d prefer the chest.
That way when they have my funeral there can still be an open casket for my mother.
Fuck.
Is this how Maximo feels twenty-four-seven?
Like an absolute maniac on a path of destruction that no one can take him off of?
If so, I finally feel sorry for the younger Costa brother.
I pick my head up, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of scotch. I pour myself another shot.
Okay, time to get it together, Vito. Stop it with these ridiculous thoughts. You’re not going to betray the family. And this thing you feel for Winter, it will pass soon.
Sure, her pussy tastes delicious and I like those little moans and whimpers she lets out when I touch her.
But I’ll be able to deal with it when Giovanni finally decides he’s done with her.
I take a gulp.
Giovanni.
My best friend, my boss, he’s changing. I could see it a couple of weeks ago after he caught Winter in the club. His reaction had been volatile and it’d run deeper than the possessiveness he’d feigned had been his purpose.
He feels something other than hate for Winter.
And last night, when he’d taken her out to dinner. I’d listened to their conversation through the mics on the table, watched the way he’d looked at her on the cams.
I know that hadn’t been the purpose of the surveillance being set up, it’d been so we could record Cressida, so we’d have blackmail on her if she ever decided to flip on us. But fuck if I hadn’t been riveted to what had been going on during that date.
And I’d seen the look on Enzo’s face as well. He thought I hadn’t paid any attention to him, but I’ve never trusted that damn soldier, so I always make sure to keep at least a part of my focus on him. And his face had been one of confusion and jealousy.
I imagined I’d looked the same.
Because for once, I feel jealousy toward Giovanni, something that’s never happened before.