Born into Mayhem (Devils Will Rise: Melnikov Legacy #6)

1. Dario

Dario

T he club is packed tonight, and the woman in front of me is doing everything she can think of to get my attention.

If her fuck-me eyes weren’t clue enough, then the way she’s grinding her ass in the air would be.

Subtle is not a word I’d use to describe her.

When she smiles, I don’t return it. Instead, I look away, the same bored expression on my face that I’ve been wearing all night.

No one walking into La Dolce Vita would know it, but we host high-stakes poker games here every weekend.

Millions of dollars are won and lost right above this room, and no one will ever be the wiser about it.

I’d been on guard duty for tonight’s game, and after six hours of watching them play, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of here.

Giving the bartender a nod, he pours me a shot of whiskey before going back to the group of half-drunk women who are waiting on a refill. It’s a Friday, so Ricki will be busy until closing. He’s our best bartender, though, so I know he can handle it.

“She’s making it pretty obvious, isn’t she?”

I turn at the sound of my brother’s voice, and before he can even take the barstool next to me, Ricki is pouring him a shot and sliding it over. Alessandro takes the glass and nods his thanks before downing it in one go. He looks back over at the blonde on the dance floor.

“Go for it, brother. You could use a good fuck,” he tells me, smiling at the look I give him. “You’ve been in a shit mood lately. We’ve all noticed it.”

I look back at the woman who’s still giving it her all. She’s not a quitter. I’ll give her that. Not wanting her to get any ideas about my interest, I quickly look away and back to my brother’s smug grin.

“I’m not interested,” I tell him.

“Why the fuck not? She’s putting on quite the show for you, and her tits are so big that tiny dress is barely holding them in. Go and have some fun, brother.”

I raise my glass and take another drink, letting the burn of the whiskey distract me from this annoying conversation I’m forced to take part in. “Why don’t you go fuck her? I’m guessing she’d be just as happy to have you.”

My brother laughs. He’s always been the more carefree of us. He’s thirty-four to my thirty-six, and life has always been nothing but a fun game to Sandro.

“Don’t fucking insult me, brother. I’m not taking your leftovers.”

“It’s not a leftover if I’ve never fucked her,” I say.

He shrugs. “Maybe, but it still feels insulting. No, that woman wants you, and she’s not going to ride my dick as a consolation prize.”

The corner of my lip turns up in a grin, because even if my brother is the more laid-back one in the family, he’s always been able to pull a laugh from my grumpy ass.

He’s right about my rotten mood. It’s been a long couple of weeks, and I can’t seem to shake the irritation that’s been hanging over me.

As if the universe wants to solidify that feeling, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and as soon as I pull it out, I see Mia’s face lighting up my screen—pink-dyed hair, smug-ass smile, and a pair of hazel eyes that always look like she’s up to no good.

I manage to bite back the irritated growl I want to give, but my face must show it all because Sandro laughs and motions for Ricki to pour us another drink .

“I don’t know why the fuck you’re smiling,” I say, finishing my whiskey before Ricki fills the glass again.

Sandro downs his second shot, not taking the time to savor it, and flashes me a grin that looks a lot like Mia’s shit-eating one. I know before he’s even spoken a word that he’s about to piss me off.

“I’ve just never seen my brother infatuated with anyone.”

I scowl at him. “And you’re not seeing it now, asshole.”

He laughs and nods at the blonde who’s still trying to put on a show for me.

“Then go fuck her, Dario. She’s obviously willing, and since you’re not attached to anyone, it’ll be a fun night for you both.

” Just to piss me off, he raises his glass at the woman in a toast and then laughs when she immediately starts walking over.

“Sandro,” I warn, but my pissed-off tone just makes the fucker laugh again.

The amused look he gives me makes me want to punch him, but before I can kick his ass like he so rightfully deserves, the woman is next to us and smiling up at me.

“Hey,” she says while running her eyes over me. She takes in the expensive suit I’m wearing, and I can tell she likes what she sees. The irritated expression on my face isn’t doing shit to deter her.

“Hey,” Sandro tells her while I remain silent and take another drink.

She looks at my brother, and I can tell that she still wants me, but she’d be more than happy to walk off with him.

“Not going to fucking happen,” he says to me in Italian, the sound of it nearly making the blonde orgasm on the spot. He laughs at her soft moan and raises a challenging brow at me. “What are you waiting for, brother?”

He spoke in English this time, and his words have the woman looking at me with an excited puppy-dog expression, hoping like hell she’s about to get a bone.

I look at them both and say, “Not interested.”

The woman sticks her bottom lip out in a pout that comes off looking stupid and not at all like the sexy she was hoping for. “Oh come on. I think I could show you a good time.”

“I really doubt that,” I say, pulling my arm back when she starts to reach for me.

“Admit it,” Sandro says in Italian. “Admit it, and I’ll never do this to you again.”

“I’m not admitting shit,” I tell him. Switching to English, I look at the woman and say, “Fuck off.”

“But you waved me over,” she says, and her pouty tone is quickly turning into an irritated one.

“My brother got your attention, not me,” I tell her. “I didn’t want you over here.”

She glares at me, but I ignore her and instead look at my phone, checking the message that Mia had texted earlier.

It’s a video, and I click on it while Sandro tries to smooth things over with the woman.

He’s worried about losing her as a customer because he’s a good businessman and he cares about shit like that.

I couldn’t give the slightest fuck if she ever shows her face in here again.

He gets her a free drink while I watch the video.

I immediately recognize the warehouse that Sasha just converted into a home and moved into.

He’s the only person I know who has life-sized dummies hanging from the rafters in his living room.

Mia steps in front of the camera, her auburn hair is streaked with pink, all of it pulled back into a messy ponytail.

Her hazel eyes are lit up with mischief, and there’s a smile pulling at the corner of her full mouth.

I know that look well. I see it every time she lunges at me with a knife in her hand.

“Check this out, Dario,” she says right before she turns her back and stalks over to one of the hanging dummies.

It’s not some store mannequin hanging down, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if it was an actual person, especially since one of them has put a black bag over the head.

I have no idea why they’ve added that detail, and I’m not sure I want to know.

The dummy is wearing jeans, a hoodie, and black boots. Again, why ?

My curiosity takes a back seat as I watch Mia slink towards the hanging dummy.

She’s as graceful as a goddamn cat, both hands gripping knives.

I recognize the serrated, deadly-looking blades.

I’d bought them for her on her eighteenth birthday, and seeing her small hands wrapped around the hilt does something to me that I’m not ready to acknowledge.

Stalking around the dummy, she gives it a swift kick to the stomach before moving her hands in a lightning-fast maneuver that I’ve been teaching her.

She stabs the dummy five times before most people could’ve gotten off one punch, each stab is aimed at a specific vital organ, and then she gives it another kick for good measure.

“Fucking nice, little witch,” I hear Sasha say as he films her.

She turns and gives her brother a big grin, and that’s where I pause the video, letting her face fill my screen. Piercings run up the side of her ear and one small diamond sparkles in her nose, and the sight of her stuns me to silence.

I’ve forgotten all about the blonde woman until she says, “Who the fuck is that bitch?”

Pocketing my phone, I turn and give her the focus she’d been so desperate for earlier. She takes a step back when she sees the look on my face. “What did you just say?”

Her eyes dart to Sandro for help, but he just laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t look at me. You got your ass into this mess all on your own. You just insulted his girl.”

Before I can tell my brother to shut the fuck up, the woman says, “Your girl?” She lets out a relieved breath. “I didn’t know you had a daughter. She’s really cute.”

Sandro loses it, laughing hard enough to draw attention while I use all the willpower I possess to not lash out and hurt someone. “I don’t have a daughter,” I say.

“But?” Her brows furrow in confusion, but then it morphs into disgust. “How old is she?”

“She’s eighteen and none of your fucking business,” I tell her, not bothering to explain that she’s not my girl . It’s the next look she gives me that really pisses me off. The morally superior one, the I know absolutely nothing about you, but I’ve just decided I’m better than you look.

I stand up, down the last of my whiskey, and then turn to face her. Looking down, because even in heels she’s nowhere close to my height, I say, “How old are you?”

When she hesitates, I add, “Don’t lie to me. How old are you?”

She doesn’t meet my eyes when she says, “Twenty-one.”

“I’m thirty-six. A lot of people would still consider me way too old for you, but let’s be honest, if I pulled you into a dark corner and lifted your tiny little dress up, you’d let me fuck you, wouldn’t you? You’d probably even call me daddy while I did it.”