Mafia Casanova

No, my contribution would be death.

Murder.

Just like my brother’s contribution was clearly life.

“She’s so beautiful,” Juliet uttered next to me.

“She is,” Tristian agreed.

If they were waiting for me to say something, they were shit out of luck; I pushed past both of them on wooden legs toward the object of my love.

Of my hate.

Of my affection.

Of all my emotions.

After all, they weren’t opposites, were they? Not even close.

They were like twin brothers constantly warring with one another until one day, a winner was crowned, a loser killed.

My love had lost.

So I fed my hate even more.

That was my sin.

My cross to bear.

Heavy was the crown to the one who wears it, and I carried it proudly on my head.

“Ma.” I leaned in and kissed each of her cheeks, inhaling the Oscar de la Renta perfume she always wore behind her ears.

Her jet black hair was pulled tightly back, twisted into a bun, kept there by two pins worth more than most people’s cars.

“You don’t come around as much as you should.” Ma’s red lips spread into a small pout, and I wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “But you’re here now; that’s what counts.”

“Yes.” I swallowed, once, twice, then finally turned to Eden.

Her eyes dripped with a hatred I’d carefully built there, constructed, watered, and tended like the garden she was.

“Eden,” saying her name hurt, the one word like poison on my tongue. “You look absolutely lovely.”

My smile hurt.

Hers was nonexistent.

“Thank you, Romeo.” She turned to my mom and reached for her hand. “I’m going to go grab some fresh air.”

Ma instantly deflated. “Good idea, keep that baby healthy.”

“Always,” Eden stated before walking off, her ass swaying even pregnant in her tight white strapless sundress.

Something pinched my side.

“Ouch!” I swatted Ma’s hand away. “Son of a bitch, why so violent?”

“Why such an asshole?” she countered.

I narrowed my eyes. “I said she looked lovely.”

“You sounded half dead!”

Didn’t she know? I was. At least my heart was.

“Ma.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure Tristian wasn’t watching or reading my lips, then lowered my mouth to her ear and whispered, “You know why I can’t.”

She stiffened. “Still that bad?”

“You have no fucking clue.”

“Language.”

I sighed. “Sorry.”

She reached for my hand and squeezed. “I’ll light a candle for you. One day it won’t hurt so much; one day, you’ll find love just like Tristian.”

“No, thank you.” My smile was sad, my heart heavy. “I don’t think I want that kind of love, Ma. I wouldn’t survive it twice; I barely survived it once.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” I tried to sound convincing. “Now, stop looking like you’re ready to cry. You know I can’t see you cry. Please.” I kissed her hand. “I’m going to go grab a drink.”

She smiled. “Good idea.”

I maneuvered farther into the living room where the table of treats was set up. There was enough food to feed an army and enough candy to put anyone in a sugar coma, which explained all the screaming kids running up and down the stairs with plastic swords.

Walking over to the bar in the corner, I poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass.

“Cake pop?” Came a voice behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder.

One of the caterers was standing there with a seductive grin on her face, holding out a blue cake pop. Her black skirt was short and tight, just how I liked them, easy access, and all that.

Her heels said fuck me please, just like her knowing expression, and her blond hair was drawn back into a ponytail I’d probably pull in the next five minutes while she screamed my name.

“If I eat your cake pop, does that mean you suck on mine?” I threw back the entire contents of my glass and waited.

Women.

They always hesitated, not because they wanted to. Hell no. They hesitated because they had to look like they weren’t after sex. Why did it matter?

Such a shame.

Such a fucking double standard.

She stood up on her tiptoes and leaned in. “Do you think it will fit?”

“Only one way to find out.” I ran a finger down the side of her cheek then down her arm until I clutched her hand and started pulling her toward the nearest bathroom.

This was what I needed.

A distraction.

Sex.CHAPTER FOURTEEN“You underestimate the power of the dark side.” —Darth Vader

Romeo

Anything to get rid of this sick feeling in my stomach, in my soul, in the core of every fiber of my being, this hunger that never dissipated no matter how many women I fucked.

She let out a throaty laugh when I shut the bathroom door then slammed my mouth against hers. Instantly, her hands were in my hair. Women loved the hair. Between that and my mouth, I could easily get an orgasm or two out of her before she took my cock.