Guilty Guardian (Mafia Lords of Sin #13)

Chapter 1 Aerin

AERIN

I envy Mom.

Not a day goes by that she isn’t the picture of elegance and peace. She thrives in a world meant to squash down women like us, a world where the men rise above because power trickles to them like it’s their birthright and nothing else matters.

Staring at the way her perfectly lined lips pull into a warm, polite smile for the waiter has my own mouth twitching, as if I could possibly mimic a smile so perfect.

I should be able to. I’m her daughter after all, but somewhere along the line, I lost my elegance.

Maybe I never had it to begin with.

Mom’s smile doesn’t waver as the waiter tops up her glass of wine, but her green eyes narrow when she catches me staring. Her eye color seems to be the only thing I’ve inherited from her.

“Sit up straight, Aerin,” she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth. “Remember, people are watching.”

People? What people?

It’s hard to believe that any of the guests at the other lavish tables surrounding us even dare to spare us a glance.

Those who keep their heads glued to their plates clearly know who my father is and know better than to sneak a glance. Those who don’t are too arrogantly wrapped up in their own little world to care.

I sit up straighter at her command and adjust the front of my dress, attempting to hide how the fabric strains around my middle.

Maybe that’s what I’m lacking.

Attempting to mimic Mom’s elegance fails at the first hurdle because she’s as thin as a rake.

She swallows and all the bones of her neck and collar protrude as sharp as knives.

I swallow and my chin doubles.

I’m staring again. She flashes me a sharp glance, a final warning, then faces Dad, who’s wrapped up whatever intense, important conversation he was having with his right-hand lieutenant.

“Guido, darling. Are we staying much longer?” She flutters her eyelashes at him.

Dad’s face loses every hard line and wrinkle as he smiles a smile only reserved for her. “Soon. We haven’t even had dessert yet.”

Mom glances at me through the corner of her eye. “Are you sure?”

Dad’s jaw ticks slightly as he very briefly clenches his teeth. “One more hour.”

I study them both, debating which one I’m supposed to echo. Mom, because she’s the only other woman in the family and through her I’m supposed to learn my place and how to act? Or Dad because he’s the Don, the head of the family, and six weeks ago he made me his heir?

Time and time again I wait for the answer to hit me, but it never does.

Laughter rises from a nearby table, stealing my attention away from the quiet conversation that rises between my parents.

The next table over has a man and a woman laughing loudly while their three children giggle and celebrate the arrival of a two-tier chocolate gateau covered in sparklers and candles.

“This is too much!” gasps the older girl. She can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen.

Her wide, saucer-like eyes reflect the sparkles as her face lights up and she playfully attempts to blow out the candles.

Her two younger siblings push at one another, fighting for who gets the first taste.

That’s a happy family.

Six weeks ago, I turned twenty-one and the freedom I craved, the freedom I told myself I would be given when I finally turned twenty-one, turned out to be another padlock on the gilded cage of my life as my father made me his heir.

A move that sent shockwaves through the family because how could he overlook Giacomo, my older brother? If anyone was born to lead this family, it was him.

“Aerin?” Mom’s sharp, low voice drags me out of my thoughts and back to dinner. “Don’t stare.”

“I wasn’t staring. I was admiring and thinking about how you didn’t get me a birthday cake.”

Her brows lift and she stares at me as if I’ve just grown a third head, then her eyes flit briefly down to my body. “A birthday cake was not what you needed, dear.”

“But it was my birthday. My twenty-first. You didn’t even celebrate it with me.”

“What is there to celebrate?” She reaches for my hand and lays her bird-like fingers over mine. “You were granted the greatest gift of all.”

“What if I don’t want it?”

In a flash, she pulls my hand off the table and into her lap, forcing me closer to her so she can place those perfectly lined lips to my ear. “Stop. Don’t you dare start that nonsense here,” she hisses sharply. “Not another word about it, you hear me?”

“It’s not nonsense if I—”

“Enough!” Her voice rises just enough to draw a few curious looks from some of the lieutenants around the table.

When she leans away from me, that perfect smile is back in place, but her grip on my hand is strong enough to form a lump in my throat as pain swells. “Now, sit up straight and wait for dessert. That should cheer you up.”

I still envy her. In a single breath, she can make me feel utterly terrible while still maintaining the elegant facade she’s known for.

I hate it here.

Warmth stings behind my eyes and I jerk my hand free, clasping them together in my lap and fighting the lump that grows larger in my throat.

Turning twenty-one was supposed to be different.

I was supposed to be free.

I was supposed to get all the things I dreamed of, like a car, and the chance to go out and have fun like a normal woman. Instead, I’m still shackled to this prison with no escape.

“Hey squirt.” A low voice suddenly tickles my ear and warm hands land on my shoulders. “Miss me?”

Turning slowly, my heart punches up into my throat and shatters that emotional lump as I come face to face with my older brother.

All thoughts of elegance and refinement flee my mind as I surge upward with a happy cry and throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Giacomo!”

He laughs and pulls me in for a tight hug, squeezing all the air out of me for a few long seconds.

“Giacomo!” Mom’s alarmed voice follows my excitement. “You didn’t tell me you were coming!” Code for he shouldn’t have come.

“I didn’t think I would have time,” Giacomo replies. “But some space opened up and I couldn’t pass up on family dinner night, could I?”

“You could.” Mom’s smile is ice. “We have one every month and we didn’t plan for you.”

“Allegra.” Dad’s warning voice is heavy with the implication for her not to make a scene. Not here. It’s too public. While Dad might own the place, there’s no telling who else is on the guest list. A family argument makes a man like my father seem weak.

“Dad.” Giacomo finally releases me from my hug and I gasp, grinning wildly.

“Giacomo. You’re looking…well.”

I step back into my chair, studying my brother while my mom’s picky fingers tug and pull at my dress to smooth out the rumples created from the hug.

Giacomo shares the same light auburn hair as me but where my curls are long and spill down my back, his rest tightly coiled on top of his head.

Where my figure is round and plump, he takes after Mom with a gaunt face, wide eyes that sparkle when he grins, and a smattering of dark stubble that pales in comparison to Dad’s thick, full beard.

“Are you staying?” I clutch at his hand, desperate for him to say yes. Growing up, Giacomo’s always been my idol.

He’d comfort me when Mom’s scolding would bring me to tears, read me stories when threats against Dad turned our life on its head, and he’d always come home with wild, exciting stories.

Stories I thought I’d get to experience when I turned twenty-one.

Giacomo gets to be free. He goes out drinking, goes to parties, races cars, and lives a life that I ache for on the sidelines. Each time Mom denies me something, Giacomo’s right there living it for me and bringing the stories back.

“He can’t stay,” Mom says sharply. “There’s not enough—”

“Excuse me, are you using this?” Giacomo’s already at the table of the family celebrating a birthday, clutching the back of an empty chair with both hands.

“No, not at all.” The man at the table shakes his head.

With a clatter of legs and a scrape of wood, Giacomo drags the chair across the floor and shoves it in between me and my bodyguard, dropping into the seat with a grin.

That grin widens when he catches Mom’s eye. “I’m in time for dessert, right?”

On cue, several waiters melt around the table and deliver a variety of desserts to my parents, the six generals around the table, my bodyguard, then me.

I immediately use my fork to carve my cherry cheesecake slice into two and offer half to Giacomo.

“Aerin!” Mom scolds in a low hiss, but whatever else she has to say fades to an indignant gasp when Giacomo picks up the half with his bare hand and takes a bite.

I burst out laughing, attempting to hide it behind my hand, but in the end there’s no point.

Giacomo continues to take comically large bites until there’s nothing left but crumbs and compote on his fingers.

“Mom’s going to kill you when we get home,” I laugh, offering him my napkin to clean up.

“What’s new?” he snickers as he wipes his palm. “Sorry I missed your birthday, squirt.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. I know you would have been there if you could have.” I’m burning to ask why he wasn’t there, but asking that leads to the painful topic of how Dad has completely skipped over Giacomo and made me his heir.

A topic I want to avoid for as long as possible.

“So.” He licks his lips and places his elbow on the table, fixing me with an easy stare. “You’re the next Dona.”

My eyes widen. “Giacomo, I’m so sor—”

“Don’t. I knew this was coming long before you did.”

“You did?”

“Perks of being older.” He smirks. “I’m sorry that’s fallen on you, kid. It’s hardly fair.”

“I don’t want it,” I whisper. “Dad wouldn’t even tell me why.”

“You know how he works. Cards close to his chest all the damn time.” Giacomo sighs deeply. “But it doesn’t matter because I’m going to be right here.” He gently prods his finger into my thigh. “You know I’ve got your back, squirt.”

“It changes everything.” The lump regrows in my throat. I spent weeks telling Giacomo my plans for turning twenty-one.