by Cora Reilly
“No,” I gritted out. “If Matteo and I had been stupid enough to get us killed by Junior, Father would have considered us weak links. He would have allowed Nina to have a child, and then he’d have had a new heir. End of story.”
Matteo grimaced because it was the truth. We both knew it.
“I need a fucking drink,” I growled in the direction of one of the whores. She rushed toward the bar and poured me a whisky before she brought it to me. I regarded her closely as I took a sip, and she lowered her eyes. “Did you know?”
She shook her head jerkily. “No. We were told this was a birthday party and we were supposed to dance. That’s all.”
I walked over to one of the armchairs with my drink and sank down. The whore whose throat Junior had cut lay beside it in a puddle of blood. Eventually, Matteo, Cesare, and Romero sat down across from me as we waited for Father and his men. There was nothing else to do. We’d killed Junior and his friends, so we couldn’t question them, and Gottardo and Angelo were all the way in Washington. I caught the looks Romero and Cesare gave me, a mixture of respect and shock.
Matteo shook his head. “Fuck. That’s not how I wanted to spend this day.”
Father, his Consigliere Bardoni, and several soldiers arrived about one hour later.
Father barely glanced our way before he headed for my cousin. “You crushed his throat?” he asked, inspecting what remained of Gottardo Junior. I caught the hint of pride in his voice. I didn’t want his fucking approval.
I nodded. “I didn’t have any weapons because I assumed I was among family and not a fucking traitor. He choked on his traitorous blood.”
“Like a Vise,” Matteo commented.
“Luca, the Vise,” Father said with a strange smile.
It had been a long fucking day, long fucking weeks, one ordeal followed by another. I wanted to kill every single one of my uncles. “I’m so over them treating me like a fucking kid,” I said as Matteo and I headed for the entrance of the Sphere.
Matteo grinned and ran his hand through his hair for what seemed like the hundredth time. One day I was going to knock him out and shave his fucking hair off to stop his annoying preening. “You’re seventeen, Luca. Not yet a man.” He imitated Uncle Gottardo’s voice in annoying perfection, including the nasal undertone that made me want to rip his vocal chords out of his throat.
I had seen the fear in his eyes—the same fear I saw in many people’s eyes since I’d crushed Junior’s throat. Gottardo was only able to spew this bullshit because he thought himself safe as my uncle. I couldn’t believe my father had believed him and Angelo…Or maybe he didn’t and enjoyed their groveling. He’d definitely upped his security and guards since that day, so he knew there were still traitors among us.
“I’m more man than all of them together. I’ve killed more men, have fucked more women, and I have bigger balls.”
“Careful with the ego there,” Matteo said, chuckling.
“You’ve got a zit on your forehead,” I muttered. It was a lie, but given Matteo’s vanity, I knew it was my best bet to pay him back for being an insufferable asshole most of these days.
As predicted, Matteo immediately felt his skin for the offending flaw, then narrowed his eyes and dropped his hand. I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. We arrived in front of the bouncer of the Sphere. He greeted us with a curt nod and stepped back to let us through when a guy at the front of the long queue waiting to be allowed inside shouted. “Hey, we were here first! And that guy’s not old enough to be in a club.”
Matteo and I both looked at the idiot. He had been referring to Matteo, and of course, he was right. At fifteen, Matteo was definitely not allowed to be in a night club like this, but neither was I—only with my size, everyone assumed I was older.
Matteo and I exchanged a look and walked over to Big Mouth. Some of his bravado slipped off when I stopped right in front of him. “Got a problem there?”
“There are laws,” he said.
Matteo flashed his shark-grin he’d perfected recently after spending too many hours in front of a mirror. “Maybe for you.”
“Since when are boys allowed in clubs? Is this prom or what?” Big Mouth said to our bouncer.
Matteo was about to draw his knife right in front of everyone, and I had half a mind to let him for the fun of it when a woman in the queue spoke up. “He doesn’t look like a boy to me,” she said flirtingly in Matteo’s direction.
“And you look like my next conquest,” added the girl beside her with a smile at me.
I cocked an eyebrow. Matteo with his sunny boy charm was always a girl magnet, but my rougher predator charm definitely had its perks as well. Both women were tall, blond, and sex on legs.
“Let them in,” I told our bouncer. He opened the barrier so they could slip through. “And he and his friends are banned from the Sphere,” I added.
The sound of their protests followed us into the club, but I didn’t give a fuck. I wrapped my arm around the blond at my side, who squeezed my butt and gave me a seductive smile.
Matteo and his girl were already tongue wrestling for all its worth.
“Is there a place where we can fuck?” Blond asked me, pressing herself against me.
I smirked. That’s how I liked it best. Women who weren’t work, easy lays, no questions asked. “Sure,” I told her, reaching for her own ass and squeezing it.
“Is your cock as big as the rest of you?” she asked as I led her through the back door into a storage room.
“Find out for yourself,” I growled, and she did. The moment the door closed, she got down on her knees and sucked any sane thought out of my brain. Her lipstick stained my cock red as she blew me like a fucking pro. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
“Fuck,” I hissed as she worked me deep into her mouth. She was better than most of the whores I’d been with, and those women had spent years perfecting their craft. I relaxed against the door, getting closer and closer to spill my cum down her throat.
She shifted and tensed in a way that raised my suspicions. Instinct made my eyes shoot open a moment before she jerked something toward my thigh. I lashed out, hitting her arm. She dropped a syringe and scrambled for it again. Grabbing her throat, I hurled her away from me. The back of her head collided with the storage shelves with a sickening crunch, and she slumped to the ground. Breathing harshly, I stared down at the syringe. What kind of shit did she try to inject me with?
I pulled up my pants and staggered over to her. I didn’t bother feeling for her pulse; her neck was twisted at an angle that left no doubt about her death. I bent over her and tugged her pants down, revealing her hipbone. There was a scar where someone had burnt away a tattoo. I knew what kind of sign had been on her skin: the crossed Kalashinkovs of the fucking Bratva that they inked onto the skin of every single one of their whores.
“Fuck,” I snarled. This had been a trap, and I’d walked straight into it, had let my dick rule over my thinking, had lowered my guards. Shouldn’t the incident with my cousin have taught me better?
I jerked upright. Matteo. Fuck. I rushed out of the room and searched the other back rooms. No sign of him or the other no-doubt traitorous whore. I stormed across the dance floor, searching the crowd for a sign of my brother, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Where was he?
I headed outside past the waiting crowd and around the corner until I reached the small back alley behind the Sphere. Matteo was busy getting head. His eyes, too, were closed. We were fucking stupid idiots. No goddamn blowjob was worth forgetting about the first rule in our world: don’t trust anyone.
The whore reached for something in her bag.
“Matteo!” I shouted, pulling my gun. His eyes shot open, his expression a mix of annoyance and confusion before he registered what she was holding in her hand. He reached for his knife and she raised the syringe to strike. I pulled the trigger and the bullet tore straight through her head, throwing it back. She fell to her side, the syringe tumbling out of her palm.
Matteo stared down at the woman, knife in hand and his fucking boner still on display. I moved toward him and revealed the burnt skin over her hipbone.
“I really wish she would have waited for me to come before she tried to kill me,” he muttered.
I straightened, then grimaced. “Why don’t you pull up your pants? There’s no reason to present your junk anymore.”
He dragged his pants up his legs and fastened his belt, then he looked at me. “Thanks for saving my ass.” He gave me a smirk, but it was off. “Did you at least have your happy ending before your conquest tried to end you for good?”
I shook my head. “The Bratva almost got us. We both acted like fucking fools, letting those stupid whores lead us around by our dicks like randy teenagers.”
“We are randy teenagers,” Matteo joked as he sheathed his knife.
I glared down at the dead women.
“The other whore’s dead as well?” Matteo asked.
I nodded. “Broke her neck.”
“Your first two women,” he said with a hint of wariness, his eyes scanning my face, looking for God knew what. “You feel guilty?”
I regarded the blood staining the concrete and the lifeless eyes of the woman. Anger was the prevailing emotion in my body. Anger at myself for being an easy target, for thinking a pretty woman was no threat. And burning fury at the Bratva for trying to kill me—and worse, Matteo.
“No,” I said. “The only thing I regret is that I killed them before they could answer a few questions. Now we’ll have to hunt down a few Bratva assholes and get info out of them.”
Matteo picked up the syringe and I tensed, worried he could get some of the poison on his skin by accident. I had no doubt that whatever was in there would lead to an excruciating death. “We need to find out what’s in there.”
“First, we need to get rid of the two bodies before guests or the police find them.” I raised my phone to my ear, calling Cesare. “I need you at the Sphere. Fast.”
“All right. Give me ten minutes,” Cesare said, sounding as if I’d woken him.
Cesare was more my man than he was Father’s soldier, and I trusted him to keep his mouth shut when required. “Father won’t be happy about this,” I said.
Matteo gave me a curious look. “About us walking into a trap or that the Bratva tried to kill us?”
“The first, and maybe the second.”
“I’m growing tired of people trying to kill us,” Matteo muttered, his tone serious for once.
I took a deep breath. “That’s how it is. How it’ll always be. We can’t trust anyone but each other.”
Matteo shook his head. “Look at Father. He trusts no one. Not even Nina.”
He did well not to trust his wife considering the way he treated her. The marriages in our world rarely led to trust, much less love.
CHAPTER 3
LUCA, 20 YEARS OLD
The second we entered the elevator, the sound of music and laughter drifted down to us.
“Seems like this party might be worth our time,” Matteo said, checking his looks in the reflection of the doors. Except for our general facial features, we didn’t look alike. I was still the spitting image of my father, same cold gray eyes, same black hair, but I’d never wear it in that disgusting slicked-back way he did.
“That would be a plus, but the main reason we’re here is for connections.”
The apartment belonged to Senator Parker who was away on business with his wife. His son, Michael, used the chance to throw a party, inviting pretty much everyone who mattered in New York.
Michael waited in the open door when Matteo and I stepped out into the hallway. It was the first time I’d seen Parker Junior without a suit, since he was trying to follow in his father’s footsteps. He waved at us with a crooked smile, already drunk.
I nodded at him. For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to hug me like so many people tended to do with everyone, but then he thought better of it. Good for him. “So glad you could make it,” he slurred. “Grab a drink. I booked a few bartenders who can prepare any cocktail you want.”
The penthouse was packed with guests and the beat throbbed in my temples. Matteo and I wouldn’t drink much, if anything. We’d learned from our mistakes of the past, even if the present crowd didn’t pose a danger. Most of them would piss their pants if they knew half the things Matteo and I had done since we’d become Made Men. As it was, they only knew rumors. Officially, we were the heirs of businessman, real estate mogul, and club owner, Salvatore Vitiello.
The moment we entered, people began to whisper. It was always the same. Michael pointed at the bar and buffet, but I barely listened. My eyes were drawn to the dance floor, which had been set up in the center of the large open space that must have been the living room before the furniture had been removed for the party. Several girls who had been dancing with sons of other politicians were throwing glances our way.
Matteo and I exchanged a look. The thrill-seekers were about to descend on us. These kinds of girls, from good families, pampered, and entirely boring, were our main prey. They wouldn’t end up trying to kill us.
One of the girls, a tall blonde sex bomb with fake tits and an outfit that clung to her body like a second skin, began eye-fucking me immediately. She left her dance partner standing dumbfounded on the dance floor and shimmied over to me on high heels.
Michael groaned. I glanced his way.
“That’s my younger sister, Grace.”
I frowned. This could complicate my plans. Michael looked at my face, then at Grace. “I don’t care if you make a move on her. She does what she wants anyway. She’s always on the lookout for her next conquest, but lots of wieners have been dipped into the mustard jar, if you catch my drift.”
My eyebrows rose. I didn’t care if Grace had fucked half of New York’s male population. She was for fucking and sucking, not anything else. But if I had a sister, I would definitely mind if she acted like that, unlike Michael.
Michael shook his head. “I’m off. I don’t want to witness that.”
He moved to the bar and Matteo followed him, but not before he sent me a wink.
Grace danced closer and closer, then touched my chest. “I hear you’re involved in organized crime,” she crooned into my ear. Her hand slipped lower, her eyes eager and flirting. She definitely went for it.
If she reached around, she’d feel the gun in the holster at my lower back hidden under my t-shirt. “Is that what you hear?” I asked with the smile that got girls like her going. Dark enough to call to her bored-as-fuck-pampered-rich-girl persona but nowhere near my true dark side which would scare her away.
She shivered against me. “Is it true?”
“What do you think?” I growled, pulling her against me, letting some of my harshness show. Her lips parted, her expression a mix of fear and lust.
She pressed her mouth to my ear. “I think I want to be fucked.”
“Good,” I said darkly, “because I’m going to fuck you now. Lead the way.”
With an excited smile, she grabbed my hand and pulled me along. Matteo grinned at me but, a second later, he was back to shoving his tongue down a brunette’s throat.
Grace and I entered what I assumed was her bedroom. I pushed her toward her vanity and hoisted her up, knocking half of her lipsticks off in the process. She pursed her lips. “You’re making a mess.”
I gave her a dark smile. “Do I look like I give a fuck? The rest of your fucking lipsticks will fall off when I fuck you.”
Her lips parted. She was used to weak-ass rich boys who’d never swung a fist in their life. “Then you’ll have to pick them up later.”
Was she testing me? Trying to see if I was someone who could be pushed around like her preppy boyfriends of the past?
Tugging her skirt down, I checked the unblemished skin of her hipbones. It was more habit than necessity. Definitely not a Bratva assassin.
“I won’t do a fucking thing, Grace, got it?” I
growled as I slid my hand under her skirt then pushed her thong aside, finding her wet. “People do what I tell them, not the other way around. New York is my fucking city,” I added as I pushed two fingers into her. Her eyes flashed with fascination.
She was fascinated by the danger, even when she didn’t know the first thing about it.
I finger-fucked her hard. “Choke me,” she whispered.
One of those.
I closed my fingers around her throat and pressed her down on the vanity, shoving the rest of her makeup to the floor. She shuddered with pleasure. I hardly put any pressure behind my grip; if she knew that this was how I’d killed a man, if she knew how many worse things I’d done with these hands, she wouldn’t have asked me to do this, but for her this was a game, a thrilling kink. It was the same with all the girls. I was their darkest fantasy come true.
She didn’t understand that I didn’t play a dark role for her, that this wasn’t my dark side, not even close, but the only side I was allowed to show in public.
Matteo and I had gotten less than two hours of sleep when our father rang us out of bed, ordering us to come over for breakfast. But first, he wanted a word alone with me. Never a good thing.
“What do you think he wants?” Matteo asked as we headed toward Father’s office.
“Who knows?”
I knocked.
“Come in,” Father said after he’d made me wait for almost five minutes.
“Good luck,” Matteo said with a twisted grin. I ignored him and headed into the room. I hated that I had to come running whenever he called me. He was the only person who could order me around, and he fucking enjoyed it. He sat behind his desk with that narcissistic smile I loathed more than anything. “You called for me, Father,” I said, trying to sound like I didn’t give a damn.
His smile widened. “We found you a wife, Luca.”
I raised one eyebrow. I knew he and the Chicago Outfit had been discussing a possible union for months, but Father had never been very forthcoming with information. He loved having that power over me. “From the Outfit?”