Enzo
Fuck Gia. I was disgusted by what she’d been willing to do, how she’d have let that son of a bitch fuck her if I hadn’t stopped things. I scoffed. I hated her right then, but I still couldn’t watch her get fucked, couldn’t imagine another man feeling her perfect pussy around his dick. That was the only thing that was perfect about her. Her smart-ass mouth and Silvani attitude made her imperfect as fuck. I thought I could look past the blood coursing through her veins, but clearly neither of us could.
I fucked up, though. She was right, even if I hated it. We were on camera at his family’s hotel after murdering Jameson, all because I couldn’t stomach her handling a . . . business transaction.
What a goddamn mess.
The passenger door flew open so hard I thought it would break off the goddamn car. Gia sat down, her eyes wide with fear, and I ain’t ever seen fear on Gia’s face like that, not even when I put a gun to her head or someone threatened to take her pussy. There was usually a cold, stoic expression on her face that reminded me she was a Silvani. But not this time.
“What’s the—”
“There’s a hit out on my father.” Her words came out in a flurry.
“Wait, slow down, Gia. Explain.”
“On Jameson’s phone. A text came through that said one million for pussycat. That’s my father, Enzo.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. Goddamn it. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. We were between a murder and a hit. If we stayed here, we faced repercussions from the O’Rileys. If we went back to the city, we faced my brothers. We’d face every damn family that considered my back turned on them. But I knew Gia. She’d go whether I went with her or refused. She’d go home to her father herself. What she didn’t realize was that there were hits on her, too, before we left. How could one target protect another? They both had goddamn bullseyes all over them. And on top of all that, like a plump cherry, was the fact that she didn’t trust me. Didn’t believe me. And fuck her if she thought I was going to risk myself for someone who didn’t even trust me.
“So what?” I said with a bite to the words as I slammed the car into reverse to get the hell outta Dodge.
She blinked hard beside me, and her mouth dropped open as if she expected me to leap at her words, jump like a dog to run into a war I wanted no part of.
Gia crossed her arms over her chest. “Take me home.” She squinted her eyes. “Back to my father’s.”
“Whatever you want.”
* * *
Driving into the city made my palms sweat. Atheist panted between us as I drove the familiar gridlocked streets to bring Gia home. Her home. She was so preoccupied with the text she saw, she didn’t care to mention the pictures that proved I didn’t do what she thought I did. She didn’t even look me in the eye as she gathered her bag, petted my damn dog one last time, and slammed the car door. It took everything in me not to follow her, but I refused to chase her. I couldn’t. It was better this way.
My head still cocked as I watched her walk away, at the sway of her full hips.
Fucking Gia.
I drove toward my family’s house, unsure what I would walk into. My brothers weren’t all that forgiving—I’d been the weak one to forgive Gia much too easily after she infiltrated our family—but they didn’t know her like I did. No one did. I knew the person beneath her façade, the one who needed to let herself be weak in order to love.
I pulled up to the long driveway, took the familiar turn, and drove until I found myself at the front of the mansion. As I pulled into the garage, the dam in my mind broke and flooded me with memories of Gia. With a long breath, I got out of the car and headed to the front door. The moment I stepped inside, guns were drawn on me, and holding them were people I grew up with, the people who raised me, even. A look of discontent washed across their faces, and I deserved it. They knew I’d run off with a Silvani, but beyond that, I didn’t know what they knew. They had to know that Bullseye was missing. Shit, they may have known that Jameson was dead.
I didn’t raise my hands in defeat or beg for forgiveness. I wasn’t going to beg for shit. I was the oldest. The business was mine.
I met Marco’s narrowed eyes. As the second oldest, he’d have taken up the role, but he was interim at best. Marco would be a good leader one day, just not today. He looked nothing like our father, and his quiet-but-deadly demeanor was the opposite of the brazen nature of our departed patriarch. He was the silent, brooding type. He’d breathe new life into the business one day.
“What you doing back here?” Marco asked, the silver barrel of his pistol in my goddamn face.
“Taking back what’s mine,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. The empire was mine, regardless of the pussy I fucked or what lapse in allegiance I let happen. Enzo Viglione was next in line for the proverbial throne.
“Over my dead body, Judas,” Marco hissed.
“That can be arranged.” I put my hand on the butt of my revolver.
I liked Marco more than I liked Sammy, but I wouldn’t let him consider what was lurking in his mind. Sammy, the baby of the family, reminded me way too much of Silvio. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but I saw it in the way he leaned against the wall or puffed on a cigar. He was Silvio’s boy.
“Get your fucking guns out of my face. If you wanna fight over it, I’ll take ya, Marky.” I smirked at him, rolling up my sleeves. Marco waved his hand, and the men lowered their rifles.
“I’ll take you,” Marco said as he tugged off his t-shirt.
I stripped off my dress shirt, leaving my ribbed t-shirt on. I had more muscle and height than Marco. He was foolish to get into anything hand-to-hand with me, but if that’s what it took to get him to stand the fuck down . . .
Sweat crept onto my temples as we walked toward the library. Marco’s jaw clenched, his bare skin beading with sweat along his back. I pushed open the library doors. It would be easier to clean the blood from the slick floors there.
“Alright,” Marco said as he squared off against me. He raised his hands to block his face in a defensive position.
I stepped back and drew my hands up, my fists firm in my line of vision. I let him make the first move, swinging at me with guarded force. I struck back, unguarded and full-strength. My fist made contact with his face, sliding along his cheek. Blood splattered from his mouth as he bit his lip from the force. He took a step back, crimson dripping down his chest, and charged at me, throwing his body weight into me. His blood stained my shirt as I braced against him. Marco threw hooks at my ribcage, and I felt the crunch of a rib or two. My breaths faltered for a moment as I harvested energy from the pain and jabbed punches at his head. Unearthly noises rose from the depths of my stomach as I punched until he finally backed away, faltering in place. He looked as if he might tip over if I touched him. He shook his head to recover. I couldn’t react before he was on me again, leaping at me. I landed an uppercut to his jaw with a scream of frustration boiling over from so much more than that moment. He fell backward and I leaped on him, pinning him at his hips and drawing my arm back again. His eyes went wide, and my hand trembled in place. I couldn’t bring myself to punch the bloody man beneath me. His eye was swollen and bruised already. Blood leached from his nose and ran down his chin and neck.
“Are you fucking done?” I snarled.
“Fuck you.” He spat the words out, along with more blood.
“Are you really in the position to be so goddamn hostile?”
“You’re fucking the bitch who killed our father.” He writhed beneath me.
Goddamn it. Another great time to gain a conscience. “Gia didn’t kill him.”
He wiped blood from his mouth. “Then it was her pops!”
“I fucking killed Silvio.” I dropped my gaze before glancing toward Sammy. His fists were clenched at his sides. Marco stopped writhing beneath me and stared up at me with wide eyes. Well, the one was wide. I panted above him. “I did it.”
Marco tried to throw me off by lifting his hip, but it was futile. “Wh-why?”
“You won’t believe me if I told ya, but he deserved it.”
“Ain’t nothing he could have done to deserve being killed by his own goddamn flesh and blood,” Sammy said behind me. Their reactions verified what I always knew, that they were never touched. Fucked around with. Made into a goddamn show.
“I’m glad you say that. That means you didn’t go through what I did. Be grateful.” I climbed off him.
In a way, it was comforting. But it also meant they’d never understand the depths of pain and mistrust Silvio created. The degradation stole my dignity, ate away at my worth. To fuck a whore while your own fucking father jerks off to you . . . Fuck you. I couldn’t even think about the rest without conjuring up more memories, forcing me to live with them.
“Silvio was a sick fuck. That’s all I’m willing to tell you.” My eyes narrowed as I offered my hand to help him to his feet. With hesitation, he took it. “Leave Gia the fuck out of it. She and I are done.”