Scars and Sins (Brooklyn Brothers Book 2)

by Melanie Munton

  His words, not mine.

  “I’m fucking obsessed with it, Rox. You’ve got a tiny little freckle on the underside of your right cheek. I’ve got a perfect view of it every time you bend over.”

  I felt his hands start to shake, and I knew he was close.

  “I can’t tell you how crazy that freckle drives me. I haven’t been able to forget about it ever since I first saw it when you were sixteen years old.”

  Say what now? When the hell had he seen me naked?

  “What are you talking about?”

  He continued to slam inside me. “You never knew. But one night when you were sleeping over at the house with Gia, you were changing into your pajamas or something in her bedroom. I was just walking by and heard the most godawful singing that I knew wasn’t coming from Gia.”

  A chuckle escaped me.

  I really was a terrible singer. That’s why I’d taken piano lessons when I was younger and not singing lessons.

  “The bedroom door was left cracked open,” he continued, his breathing ragged. “Not much, but it was enough to get a glimpse of the lushest ass I’d ever seen. That was the first time I realized I’d never seen you as a sister. And I sure as hell couldn’t after that. That freckle has tormented me all these years.” He growled. “But now, I get to see it whenever I fucking want.”

  I wasn’t sure which felt better—the orgasm I was still recovering from, or the feeling of pure elation his words had delivered.

  I guess my attraction hadn’t always gone unrequited.

  Just when my trembling finally started to abate, he thrust five more times and emptied himself inside me. Well, inside the condom, which he always used. Like most other women, diseases and pregnancy were now something I had to worry about. Ace was always insistent on protecting me. But honestly, I was really curious about how different it would feel when he was bare.

  Might have to mention that to him next time.

  I pasted on a serious expression after he’d pulled out and I’d righted my clothing. “So, you say you’re feeling feverish?”

  His half-grin popped out and winked at me. “Yeah, it’s weird. Every time I’m around you, I get abnormally hot. I can’t explain it.”

  I tapped my chin, my eyes giving his body a quick once-over. “Hm. I think I better give you a full physical examination. Just to be on the safe side.”

  He gifted me with a full-on smile. “You make house calls?”

  My list of clients in the city included several Fortune 500 companies, high-end retail chains, and even a couple of government buildings. But The Met was by far my biggest and most important account. They’d signed a contract with me just a few months ago after I’d beaten out two much larger security firms by giving the museum directors a demonstration of exactly how many kinks those other systems had and how easy they were to hack into.

  They’d signed on the dotted line the very next day.

  So, when I had a job to do at The Met, it was my first and only priority.

  That was where I found myself on this Friday afternoon—knee-deep in computer errors on my most advanced camera system.

  I was standing on top of a ladder in the Making Marvels exhibition, troubleshooting said errors, when I heard the clicking of shoes across the hardwood floors, heading in my direction. With my back to the entrance, I assumed it was one of the directors coming to check on my progress, since the exhibition was currently closed to the public.

  No so much.

  Grating laughter reached my ears before I turned around.

  “Well, isn’t this a sight. I suppose it’s what you get when you come from a line of treasonous cowards—a life of menial, mediocre work.”

  I smirked over my shoulder at my visitor.

  I’d expected him to call on me at some point.

  “What can I say, some of us don’t like riding bitch on our uncle’s coattails.” I shrugged. “But to each his own.”

  My words had the intended effect.

  Dominic Gabbiano’s cocky grin was smacked right off his disgustingly smug face.

  I climbed down the ladder and faced off with him. My mood was already dark after all the problems with my new cameras, so this was exactly the kind of outlet my anger needed.

  I knew he wouldn’t try anything in a place as public as the museum, but I was on my guard nevertheless. Around a dirty player like him, you never knew what he would try to pull. The Gabbianos didn’t abide by any code except their own. They didn’t play fairly or honorably.

  It was the perfect recipe for unpredictability.

  And evil.

  “Do I get to hear outright what it is you’re doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Or are you going to do that whole beating around the bush, villain monologue thing where I have to guess your intentions based on a bunch of vague threats?”

  He huffed at my sarcasm, though I could tell he was miffed that I clearly wasn’t about to play along with whatever game he’d planned. But if he wanted to intimidate me, he should have gone in a different direction. His three-piece Italian suit and alligator skin loafers looked more tacky on him than refined. Between his hair and clean-shaven face, everything was perfectly trimmed with not a strand out of place. Even his pocket square was immaculately folded and free of wrinkles.

  I couldn’t have been less impressed.

  He was just like his uncle. Unoriginal and always hiding behind an image, a façade. Santi liked to use his gentlemanly outward appearance as a misdirection around those he wanted to manipulate. Dad had told us enough about his limited encounters with the mafia boss. Using his faux genteel elegance, Santi would ease those around him into a comfortable state and garner their trust. Then, when they least expected it, he’d strike. He got more pleasure out of their surprise.

  Dominic must have been Santi’s star pupil.

  I wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate whatever lurked beneath that practiced demeanor.

  “I have no desire to be around a filthy Rossetti deserter any more than is necessary.”

  Dominic smoothed his hand down his scarlet silk tie as he delivered his insults. I saw the action for what it was: a nervous tick.

  “Then get on with it, Gabbiano, because your stench of entitlement is starting to stink up the place.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’d be wary of insulting me if I were you. You certainly would be if you knew my reputation.”

  I chuckled. “It’s clear you don’t know mine either. My family and I tend to take it personally when we’re threatened. Or have you forgotten Stefano Esposito and his father?”

  Dominic sneered. “Stefano was an uncivilized barbarian, and his father isn’t much better. They should never have been in power, and their actions have disgraced our family. That’s what I’ve come here to fix.”

  “You say that like I care.”

  He watched me for a moment, studying me, and then relaxed his stance, a confident grin coming over his features. He lazily strolled around the room, looking over the exhibits.

  This exhibition was dedicated to various items and instruments used by European princes from around 1550 to 1750. It was a collection of over 170 objects of artistic and technical innovations to ones of entertainment, all collected by European royalty as a way of expressing their power and influence. Clocks, automata, musical instruments, jewelry, paintings, and sculptures. It was a collection of Old World finery.

  And ironically, standing in the center of it all was the human embodiment of all the corruption and greed that once ruled so many of the European leaders of the past.

  Dominic Gabbiano would have fit in so well with many of those monarchs.

  He stopped at the glass case surrounding a celestial globe decorated with gold filigree that once belonged to Rudolf II, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “I’m sure you care about Roxanna D’Angelo.”

  I gave no reaction, though my instincts screamed at me to pummel him into the ground for even breathing her name
.

  When he turned and met my gaze, his expression said he didn’t need a reaction from me.

  “You don’t have to waste your breath denying it. You two are involved. I must say, I had hoped she would have better taste. Even for a quick fuck.”

  My nostrils flared. “Insulting me is one thing. Insulting her is another.”

  That’s the only warning he would get.

  He looked like he’d finally gotten the reaction he wanted from me.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that she and I are to be married. Her father and my uncle have already agreed to it.”

  That sentence confirmed my suspicions that no one else at the plant shooting two weeks ago had any clue we’d been there.

  It also confirmed that the Gabbianos had yet to discover Vinnie’s master plan. The one he’d described to me in detail that day in Dad’s den. The only people who knew about it were the ones present in the room during that conversation—me, Dad, and Vinnie. I couldn’t say I’d have done things the same way if I were Vinnie, but I’d agreed to help him, anyway. For Roxy’s sake.

  And for Roxy’s sake, I’d kept the whole thing a secret from her.

  One I prayed wouldn’t blow up in my face.

  Laughter burst from my lips. “And that’s why you think it will actually happen? Because her father paid your uncle a dowry of some kind and they shook hands? Hate to break it to you, but you’ve been living on that ancient island too long. That’s not the way shit runs in the real world.”

  He slid his hands inside his pockets as he slowly walked over to another glass case, this one with an astronomical table clock inside made of gilded brass.

  “Hate to break it to you, Rossetti, but she has no choice in the matter. Not if she wants her father to remain alive.”

  My hands curled into fists. “You would blackmail her into marrying you with her own father’s life?”

  He waved me off, as if killing a person required little more attention than shooing away a fly. “Vinnie’s import/export business is of little consequence to me. The money he brings to the family is the only reason my uncle has allowed him to live all these years. I, however, know that the New York families can thrive without him. I have plans that go beyond my uncle’s limited vision. His focus has always been too narrow. But when I take over this city, we’ll have more leverage than any of the bosses of the past could have ever dreamed.”

  That’s what they all thought.

  The bosses of yesteryear had all believed they could become respected figures in the community. Enough to affect changes in laws and ordinances and even innovations in city infrastructure.

  They’d all failed.

  Because at the root of it all, they were criminals. Some were of the worst kind.

  And Dominic more than fell into that category. Hell, he was that category.

  I’d done a little digging on him since that day at the plant. He was no stranger to violent crimes, but much like Santi, he was clever in his execution of them. Everything was so cloak-and-dagger, the authorities had never pinned any of the crimes on him.

  “Unfortunately,” Dominic continued, “the New York families don’t fully support a Gabbiano swooping in and taking over. Especially someone younger than all of the bosses by half. Which is why Roxanna has become essential to our plan for a takeover. A marriage will bridge our syndicates together. The bosses all think of Roxanna like their own daughter. They won’t start a war if she’s my wife. Not if she would literally be thrown in the middle of the fight.”

  Hearing the words my wife fall from his lips was like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Is this the only reason you’re here?” I demanded, struggling to control my rising temper. “To tell me something I could have figured out on my own?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “I came here to make you a deal.”

  “Can’t wait to hear this.”

  He sighed. “Personally, I would be fine with making the entire Rossetti line go extinct. But it seems that my uncle would like to avoid a direct war with your family. He hasn’t said as much, but I think he’s still hoping that one day you will be our allies again.”

  “Not a fucking chance.”

  I was offended by the mere implication.

  He nodded. “I’ve tried to tell him as much. But nevertheless, he wants to avoid further strife, if possible. Therefore, I’m prepared to offer you this proposition. Back off this situation with the D’Angelos, don’t cause any waves with my marriage to Roxanna, and we will forgive your recent sins against the families.”

  “You will forgive our sins?” I spat. “Who died and made you the Pope?”

  A slow smile slithered onto his face. “Killing a figurehead in the organization is a grave sin by our standards. You know this. Which means you also know how much danger your family is in. We’re willing to make all of that go away if you give up Roxanna without a fight. You agree and we won’t so much as point a toothpick in Brooklyn’s direction.”

  White hot fury flared to life inside me.

  It took every ion in my body to keep my feet planted where they were instead of pounding both of them right into his fucking jaw.

  “You’re more fucked up in the head than I thought if you actually think I would agree to that,” I snarled. “And you’ve completely wasted my time.”

  “I thought you might say that, so I’m willing to give you time to think it over.”

  I wouldn’t need any goddamn time.

  “Which you might want to do if you don’t want any harm to come to your mother.”

  My muscles locked up.

  I did take a menacing step toward him then.

  He seemed oblivious. “Or to your sister. Gia, isn’t it? Lovely girl. Lovely voice, too. It would be such a shame if an admiring fan caught her outside one of those bars all alone one night. Anything could happen in a situation like that. Like someone taking a knife to her vocal cords so she could never sing again.” He shrugged. “But that’s just off the top of my head.”

  This motherfucker was just stoking the fire.

  He had no idea the kind of motivation he was providing me with.

  Luka and Rome had both taught me some lethal moves over the years. I could snap Dominic Gabbiano’s neck right now before he even knew he was halfway to Hell.

  “Maybe you need a refresher course on what happened the last time one of your kind threatened a Rossetti woman.”

  He lifted a thin eyebrow. “And perhaps you need to be refreshed on how much damage we could really do to you and your family. My uncle extended a kindness by not slaughtering every last one of you the very same night Raphael Esposito was arrested. It is not our way to let wrongs committed against us go unavenged. But we’re offering this courtesy to you now. Otherwise, your luck might just start running out.”

  “If I stop seeing Roxy—”

  “If you never see her again,” he corrected.

  “Then no one from the mafia will touch anyone in my family?”

  “Yes. You would have the Gabbianos’ word on that.”

  I acted like I needed time to contemplate that.

  For about three seconds.

  “Here’s an offer for you,” I told him. “Stay away from Roxy, don’t speak to her or touch her, and I won’t gut you open from neck to dick. And if you think I’ll give one shit about starting a war with your uncle, you clearly haven’t done enough research on me. Your death would be more than fucking worth it.”

  He looked completely baffled. “You would actually start a war over this one woman? You would risk the lives of every one of your family members over your side piece?”

  I glowered. “Roxy will never belong to you. Understand that right now. And if I have to go to war in order to protect her from the likes of you, then so be it.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a fool, Rossetti. If you reject this offer, I promise you will lose this fight.”

  “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome, Gabbiano. Not that
you were ever welcome.”

  He smirked and straightened his tie. His way of dismissing me.

  As he turned toward the exit, the ornate mirror made of gilded silver and ivory in a near display case caught his attention. Leaning closer to it, he adjusted a few strands of his dark hair until they were lying perfectly flat again. Then he turned back to me, his face once again blank.

  “You have one week to make your final decision. Let her go or sign your family’s death certificates.”

  He spun sharply around on the heel of his wingtips and was gone.

  I had so many furious emotions boiling up inside me, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  But I knew one thing.

  He was never getting Roxy.

  She would never be his.

  I was going to Hell.

  I went to confession for the first time since that day I ran into Ace at the church. The priest had been right—the situation with my father was weighing heavily on me, and I was starting to feel physically sick over it. Only, our issues no longer revolved around my lying to him. Things had gone far beyond that, and I just didn’t know what to do.

  But regardless of how he’d treated me, I missed my papà.

  It had been two weeks since the plant shooting, and I still hadn’t spoken to him. I kept ignoring all of his calls. Every time I pushed that red button, it felt like a lance was being driven into my heart. My thoughts were still so conflicted over what had actually happened that led him to make that decision.

  It just wasn’t like him.

  Growing up with the man I thought I knew, he would never have even entertained the notion of forcing his only daughter into an arranged marriage. Around Mamà, he had been the kindest, gentlest man. The most considerate husband who had still done romantic things for her all the time, right up until the day she died.

  So, either hers and Filip’s deaths had affected him in far darker ways than I’d ever imagined possible…

  Or something else was going on.

  Had he brought me back to the city just to push me toward Dominic? Or was there another plot at work here? Papà had always been known amongst the families as a scheming mastermind. Was this engagement to Dominic just another one of those schemes? And if so, to what end? What was he getting out of it?