Chapter Twenty
Roselyn
I hate funerals. Most people don’t like them, but I really despise them, which is why I didn’t even attend my mother’s. Out of all the funerals I’ve been to—and I’ve been to many because so many people die in the mafia that death becomes a norm—this is the saddest one I’ve ever attended. So many people are here, and people stand next to the brown caskets and speak of how they were a good couple and the light of the famiglia . Enzo’s famiglia speaks about how he served the mafia with pride, honor, and honesty.
Devious’s eyes gloss over, but he doesn’t shed a tear. Guilt suffocates the air but love overshadows it. I hold his hand, squeezing it without glancing up at him. He brushes his lips against my hand, and I want to sigh, but I don’t. Instead, I stand there as if I’m not affected by him.
I keep my eyes trained on both of the caskets, watching as they are lowered to the ground. I tilt my nose to the gray sky; the smell of rain still lingers in the air from earlier. Specks of water kiss my face, and strands of hair stick to the sides of my cheeks. Papa is the first person to set a flower on the casket. His face has faded bruises around his nose and cheeks. I want to ask him what happened, but when he looks at Devious, I have my answer. Devious watches him with annoyance.
Our eyes meet, and Papa shakes his head as he marches to his car.
“You beat him, didn’t you? For slapping me across the face.”
He doesn’t respond until it’s our time to place our roses on the casket. We stand a little while longer as my heels sink into the muddy dirt.
He removes a few strands of my hair from my face. His demeanor is so composed and elegant. “I did. He knows now not to verbally or physically abuse you anymore.”
A few people offer Devious their condolences. Nero and Saverio shake Devious’s hand, while I ignore them.
Aiden strides to him, whispers something in his ear, and Devious nods. Aiden waves at me, and I wave back, and then Devious ushers me to the limo. King is already in the driver’s seat, with Damien beside him. An SUV full of soldiers trail behind us. Normally, when the mafia has big gatherings, they double up on security because enemies are most likely to strike.
My feet hurt from wearing these ridiculous heels, and I groan as I remove them, tossing them onto the floorboard. Devious takes my feet and massages my aching, tender heels.
“Is this better?” he asks.
Shock blankets me. I don’t understand his behavior—he’s giving me whiplash. One minute, he’s hot as boiling water, and the next, he’s cold as Antarctica.
“Oh, God. It is. Honestly, I don’t understand how women wear this shit or why men find them appealing.”
We ride in silence, and he continues stroking the heels of my feet. His touch makes me want him to touch me everywhere.
Two hours later, we’re in the manor, and I toss my heels on the floor.
The food the chef makes smells delicious. We both casually stroll to the dining room, and Devious pulls out my chair. I sit down, scooting closer to the table. He sits next to me, then unfolds a napkin, placing it on my lap.
I bite my pinkie nail. “I’ve never had a man be so attentive toward me.”
“None of your exes were attentive?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never hung out with them. They didn’t have much interest in me because I was going to be their trophy wife and bear their children. Papa wanted me to mold into something I wasn’t.”
“Oh, yeah. Who?”
Ever since I was sixteen years old, I’ve been groomed to be a trophy wife, and I was told women are not allowed to work and be their own person and that I was only made to produce children. Papa wanted me to be that so bad, and my mother didn’t.
“Someone’s wife.”
“What would you be doing if you weren’t born into the mafia?”
I don’t know if he’s asking because he’s curious, and we really haven’t talked since the day I told him how Papa abused me.
“Be a street artist. It doesn’t pay a lot, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t be doing it for the money.”
“What did you do in Atlanta when you ran away for six months?”
Papa told him every little thing I did. I lean back in the chair and roll my eyes.
“I lived in an apartment with a group of other girls, and we partied and got high and drunk. I didn’t want to marry Umberto. Papa wanted me to. He was a sweet guy and always bought me roses, but there wasn’t a connection with him. He was weird. He wanted me to do… stuff.”
“Such as?”
My cheeks flame. “He wanted me to stick a champagne bottle up my pussy. And he told me I will have to once we’re married. Once, he wanted to record me blowing him.”
Devious frowns, and the lines on his forehead deepen. “It doesn’t surprise me about him. Did you do what he asked you to do?”
“Fuck no. I probably wouldn’t mind him recording me, but sticking shit inside of me is weird as fuck.”
“Good, because I would have gone all the way to Philly to break his arms and legs.”
“It was before I met you.”
He tilts his head to the side like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “What’s your point?”
“Sometimes, you don’t know whether to hate me or like me.” I tap my finger on the table. “You didn’t hurt Nero when you found out he ate me out.”
“I debated if I should, but he brings me the most money on the West Coast, so that is the only reason why I haven’t killed him.”
“Are you close to Umberto?”
“I know all my underbosses personally, and Umberto isn’t nice. He’s vicious but he wraps it up in a facade.”
Umberto really tried to be a good man to me, and I had to leave and run off because I wanted freedom. He didn’t take me out on dates, but he tried to make me feel comfortable.
“I don’t know. He was always nice to me and treated me like I was a person. I couldn’t handle his weird sexual habits.”
The chef brings us our meal.
“What were Penelope and Enzo like? I never got a chance to hang out with them,” I ask, needing to change the subject.
“They were good people. They were the parents I never had.” Devious smiles sadly, but then his eyes light up with happiness. “I remember when I was fifteen years old and I wasn’t supposed to be out late, and I spent the night at a girl’s house. Amelia—the girl—and Enzo lied to Draco, saying I was at his place. Enzo didn’t give two shits about what Draco thought.”
“I’m really sorry for your loss. No one deserves to lose a loved one,” I say honestly, and he nods.
He grabs my crab legs, showing me how to break the shell, then feeds me a piece of meat. The meat tastes juicy and sweet and so good. We talk about our dislikes and likes. Apparently, Radiohead and System of a Down are his favorite rock groups. Rap music is my favorite genre, and Kendrick Lamar and Drake are my favorite rappers. We both agree horror and psychological thriller are the best genres, whether it’s books or movies.
“I remember when I was a kid, Enzo would slow dance with Penelope in the living room. Let’s dance.” Devious stands from the table, holding out his hand.
I shake my head. “Oh no, I can’t. I don’t know how. There isn’t any music playing.”
“I’ll teach you.” He yanks me out of the chair, then ushers me to the living room and grabs a remote from the end table and taps a button. Soft jazz music hums in the background.
He pulls me close, resting both hands on my lower back. He rests his chin on the top of my head, and I accidentally step on his feet. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “All you have to do is move your hips and follow my lead.” His voice tickles my ear.
This feels nice, being held by him. It feels nice to do something normal despite having just attended a funeral. My emotions are all over the place. I feel his erection digging into my stomach, and I look up and gaze into his blue eyes. He stops, removes a few strands of hair from my face, then leans down to place his mouth against my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth. I stand there, shocked for a second, but I deepen our kiss. His kiss shoots desire in my lower belly.
He pulls away, cupping my face. “I’m only going to ask for consent one time to fuck you; after that, I’m not asking anymore.”
I don’t want to give my virginity to him, but I want this more than anything.
All of my worries simply melt away.
My nipples harden at his words.
“Okay.”
He plays with the ends of my hair. “Run into the woods behind the mansion. I’ll start on five.”
“What will happen if you catch me?”
“Five. I’m going to catch you and do whatever I want to your sweet body.”
If I go through with this, there isn’t any going back.
But I want him to chase me.
“Four.”
I turn on my heels and run out the front door.