Obsession (Sinners of New Orleans #3)

Chapter 9

NINE

Adrian

I watch as Nonna studies my reflection in the mirror. “You look so handsome.” It’s warm and honest. Something about the woman transforms my current situation, briefly taking me on a trip down memory lane filled with hot summer days, warm chocolate chip cookies, bruised knees, and lemonade.

My grandmother raised me, and in her mind, this wedding today is an honest-to-God marriage. The eighty-year-old woman is blissfully unaware of the fact that Madi hates me and this is all one big show I manipulated her into. I prefer to keep it that way.

Shame burns hot in my stomach at the thought of what Nonna would think if she knew what I was doing. That I’m forcing Madi to marry me. Despite whatever pretenses I spew off, deep down, I know that’s what I’m doing. If I said the word, this wedding would be off in a minute.

But I won’t.

And who’s to say that her mother isn’t just as horrid as her brother? If not me, then it’d just be another man Madi would marry unwillingly.

Nonna’s golden eyes fill with hope as she smooths her hands over the shoulders of my black tux. “The blue is a nice touch.” She smiles, nodding at the teal-colored bow tie I chose.

Instinctually, my fingers come up, running over the fine silk. The wedding planner Caterina hired wanted me to wear a pale pink one. She said it matched the color scheme about three hundred times as she showed me inspiration pictures on her MacBook. I cared little about what the color scheme was, still don’t. I just knew I wanted this color.

As expected, last night when I saw her at the rehearsal dinner, her once colorful locks were dyed a more natural shade of brown. And while I know it’s probably for the best, there’s a piece of me that will miss the wild blue shade. It was fitting for the spitfire girl, the artist with no cares. But it was also the thing her family hated the most about her.

That first time I saw her is still etched into my brain. Stunning, but she looked like she might bite anyone who came too close. Before her, I’d never understood the phrase beautiful but deadly.

Madi looked like she could hold her own, take down any man who tried to enter her orbit, and yet, I wanted to be crushed by her.

Maybe I’m a masochist.

Or maybe I’m the fool who thinks he can tame her.

“Can I have a moment?” The question is paired with a quick knock on the open door.

Nonna glances at Damien Romano before her eyes pass back to me. Naive, maybe, but my grandmother isn’t dumb. She knows what the Costello family does for a living, and she knows that with Marcus and Junior gone and Sam in prison, Damien is the head of the family.

“Of course. I’ll get out of your hair, amore mio,” she says brightly, pressing onto her toes to leave a kiss on my cheek. She swipes her thumb over the spot, removing any lipstick that clung to my skin, and gives me one last warm smile before she leaves.

Damien shuts the door behind her. “Your nonna?”

“Si,” I answer, walking the three steps it takes to get me to the makeshift bar I set up on the coffee table. It’s not much, just a thirty-year-old bottle of Glenfiddich and two crystal tumblers. I pour us each two fingers’ worth of the pricey liquor.

Wordlessly, Damien takes his, clinking the glass against mine before tilting it back.

I let the liquid burn its way down my throat before I bring my gaze back to the man across from me. “So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I was surprised to hear the wedding was still on,” Damien says, perching himself on the edge of the velvet couch. His dark eyes wander over my suit, pausing at the sight of the blue bow tie before coming up to my eyes.

Bringing the crystal to my lips, I take another slow sip of the amber liquid. “Yeah?” I question. “Why’s that?”

“I would’ve thought my nephew’s death would scare you off. It’s a dangerous line of work, after all.”

“Not if you’re just the lawyer.”

Damien laughs like I told the funniest joke. I can’t quite place his angle, and normally, I can scope out everyone’s intentions. This family isn’t any more ambitious than most; they just happen to be ambitious in a very specific niche. One that’s not quite legal.

As far as Damien knows, I’m just a money-hungry attorney with loose morals willing to work with the mafia. It’s not a hard story to believe, considering how many corrupt people are in positions of power in this world. They see me as another chess piece they can move around as they see fit. The lawyer who will do their bidding in the courtroom. They give me favors and cold, hard cash in exchange, and I take it like a greedy little pup, only encouraging their idea of me.

And I won’t lie, the money is nice. I was making plenty before I got involved with the Costellos, but working for them easily quadrupled the amount I was taking in.

But what they don’t know is that I don’t care about the money.

All I care about is my end game. The plan where I tear down this family piece by piece. Until every last one of them is dead or in prison — punished for their sins.

“Even if you’re just the lawyer, ” Damien mimics me. “You have blood on your hands, just like the rest of us.”

As he says the words, I can feel the metaphorical blood on my fingertips. I close my eyes for a moment, sucking in a breath and centering myself. I can’t show weakness, not in front of Damien.

My rule from the beginning has been to make sure no good men like my father find themselves punished for the crimes of this family. I got off the men they wanted back on the streets, and if someone was sent to prison, I made sure he deserved it. I’m not in the business of letting innocents suffer.

“Maybe, but my job is to clean up that blood.” I hold up my free hand, flipping it back and forth. “Looks sparkly clean to me.”

Damien chuckles deeply. “It’s gonna get bloodier, you realize that, right?” His thick eyebrow ticks upward with the question. “Marcus’s death just means that Sam isn’t going to go down as easily as we thought. That kid’s a fighter.” He shakes his head like he’s both proud and pissed at his other nephew. He’s also the first one to point blank say that Marcus is dead. I assumed as much, but until now, everyone else has said “missing,” paired with the fact that there’s no body. But I guess it’s easy enough to put two and two together. Marcus started a fight with John Vitale that he couldn’t finish and only one of them walked away with their life intact.

I press my fingers against the glass, squeezing it tightly. “What’s your point, Damien?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips. “If you’re one to scare easily, you should back out now.”

I run that eerie statement through my mind, analyzing it for the meaning that lingers underneath. “You’re expecting a war.”

“Something like that…” Damien eyes me. “So the question is, are you in or out?”

I should say out. I should leave this church, let Madi and my revenge scheme go, and get the hell out of New Orleans. My father would have never wanted to see me working with the mafia. He’d be disappointed if he knew what I succumbed to.

But he’s not here anymore.

And I am.

“I’m in.”

Damien smiles. “That’s what I hoped to hear.” He polishes off the rest of his drink and pats my shoulder on his way out.

Fede comes in right as Damien leaves. I chug the rest of my drink, hoping to wash down the bitter taste of that conversation. My brother looks at me, a touch of concern lingering in his eyes. “Are you ready?” he asks.

It’s a loaded question.

Am I finally ready to take down these assholes?

Am I ready to avenge my father?

Am I ready to walk down that aisle and marry into the family I hate so much?

My mind shifts, thinking of what Madi will look like in a white dress, saying her vows to me. At the end of tonight, my little vixen will finally be just that. Mine.

“Yes. I’m ready.”