Mafia Casanova

He led me under the water.

I kept my eyes closed.

He scared me.

I scared me.

What was happening?

It was as though I was having an out of body experience; I was there, but I wasn’t.

I couldn’t believe he was cleaning me like it was no big deal when it was a huge one. Still, it felt comfortable being there with him. I wanted to open my eyes, but I was afraid of what I’d see.

What I’d feel.

When I was already feeling everything.

I always had Tristian standing between us, we both did, and now… now there was nothing but this chasm of pain between us.

Mistakes.

Regrets.

Memories we could never change.

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted but couldn’t have.” He came up behind me, pulling my back against his rock hard body. “That’s my truth. Telling you that doesn’t fix anything, doesn’t change anything. It just makes me angry, and it makes you sad. I’m fucking exhausted from making you sad, Red.”

Cold air hit me in the back as he stepped out of the shower. I let him go; it was just easier that way. Nothing was ever simple between us. Except… walking away.

Later that night, long after he’d fallen asleep, I thought of his words.

Did that mean he still wanted me?

Still cared?

Did that mean he was here for more than just protection?

Or was it because his only competition was dead in the cold hard ground?

With a curse, I threw off the duvet, grabbed a sweatshirt, and left my bedroom.

Thought after thought assaulted my mind, and on my way to the kitchen, I noticed the light to Tristian’s office was on. Before I knew what I was doing, the door was creaking open. Legos littered the floor in an explosion of color.

“Naz,” I whispered.

He missed his hero.

And it would be my life’s goal to make sure he only saw Tristian as that. Despite being one of the biggest lies of them all, it’d be a lie I would gladly tell.

The truth was sometimes too painful to recognize; it left scars where a lie sometimes left a smile.

I started picking up the Legos around Tristian’s old desk. How had Naz gotten so many in here in the first place?

A few toppled over onto a piece of paper.

I glanced at it, then did a double take.

What the fuck?

My heart dropped.

My breathing hitched.

I was lost all over again.

With a shaky hand, I brought the paper up to my face, having to take a seat to keep my legs from giving out on me. In my hands was a wire transfer for twenty-five million dollars into a savings account with Naz’s name on it. More money that I couldn’t trace, that I didn’t know about it. When would it end?

In what world did an accountant make that sort of money? And why put it in Naz’s name?

We were wealthy.

But not that wealthy.

Not even close.

“Tristian,” I whispered to myself. “What the hell have you done?”

I jolted out of my skin when I heard Romeo roar, “What are you doing?”

Like a kid caught doing something wrong, I hid the paper behind my back.

“Goddamn it.” He stalked toward me and held out his hand. “Now.”

“You didn’t say please.”

He narrowed his gaze at me. “Please give me the paper that made your face turn white so I can fix whatever the hell my brother fucked up.”

With a sigh, I handed the paper over.

If he was surprised at finding more incriminating evidence, Romeo didn’t show it; instead, he folded the paper and moved past me, his eyes searching documents on the desk before he dumped out one of the Lego containers that Naz had pulled in there and shoved every last piece of paper into it.

“Wait!” I grabbed his arm.

“No.” Romeo’s jaw clenched. “Information is guilt; if you know, then you’re part of it. I’m not going to stay up all night and read these to you; I’m not going to tell you what they mean. Especially when it’s not any of your business.”

He walked out of the office. A cold chill took over my body.

Romeo didn’t come back to bed.

I wondered all night where he went. If he wasn’t in my bed, then it meant he was in someone’s.

Was it for pleasure or information…

On what I just stumbled upon.CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE“I wanna be the villain. Villains have fun.” —Donal Logue

Eden

Then: One year later“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Naz! Happy birthday to you!” the whole family sang to our son, who was growing at a rapid speed.

I blinked, and he was turning three years old, reminding me more of his father day after day. He was the cutest, most kind-hearted little person I’d ever met. Everyone was obsessed with him, especially his grandparents. Despite the fact that my father was a made man, you wouldn’t think so if you saw him with his grandson. Don’t get me started on Tristian’s mother. She babysat every opportunity she could get, often scheduling things for me like a massage or a day at the spa just to have some alone time with Naz.