Chapter 2
CIRO
All evening, Isla captivated my attention. She always had, like no other woman before her, because her heart was as pure as ivory and as sweet as honey. But in the bedroom, she turned into a seductress on a mission to have her way with me.
It killed me how perfect we were together. Equal stamina. Same taste for depravity.
Outside of our incredible sex life, she cared deeply about people and the environment. She ate healthy, all organic, mostly vegan, unless the meat had come from one of the animals we raised on the estate.
Happy, well cared for animals were important to Isla. She also loved to cook and wanted to see what went into the pot, skillet, or oven.
And she didn’t douse her body in heavy, chemical laden perfumes. The one she wore was made with all natural ingredients. She didn’t apply layers of makeup on her pretty face either. Like tonight, she only wore enough to enhance her natural beauty.
Isla was stunning, a classic beauty. The kind of woman who could stand the test of time.
I was the luckiest man alive to call her mine, but the world would never know what she meant to me, nor would she.
From my vantage point, I observed Isla mingling with my guests. She smiled and laughed, despite hating these parties. The schmoozing and fake formalities grated on her nerves, as they did mine. But it was what it was, and part of my responsibility as the head of my famiglia.
We hosted a few parties a year, catering to celebrities, politicians, top leaders in our crime circle. And models, who were only here to meet wealthy men and make them happy.
I, of course, was used to the fanfare, ass-kissing, and women fussing over me.
But after more than a year together, Isla hadn’t gotten used to any of it. Not the pictures I took with “leggy blondes,” as she’d called them. Or the occasional kiss on the cheek… and sometimes on the lips.
None of it meant anything to me. It was only an act. A small part of my lifestyle.
Regardless, it meant something to Isla. It meant a lot to her.
My lovely lady was hanging on by a thread, ready to snap at any second. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to change who I was or shield her from my dirty dealings. God knew I tried.
I’d hoped sex before the party would get Isla through the night. Sometimes it did and other times it seemed like we were worse off. She should be confident and secure in our relationship, not sick with worry for my safety or that someone would steal me away from her.
How could she not worry, though? I pondered this issue weekly.
My life was dangerous, and by association, she was at risk.
To add insult to injury, I gave all my attention to my guests at these goddamn parties, while Isla hung back as if she wasn’t the most important person in my life. Which was why I’d given her my all just a couple of hours ago in the privacy of my bedroom.
But showing affection and adoration for her in public couldn’t happen. Nobody could ever know she was my weakness, a direct line to my undoing. If it ever got out, we’d all be fucked.
Her gorgeous smile couldn’t mask the anger in her whiskey-colored eyes. My world was too much for her. Always had been. Always would be.
Isla Martin was the only woman I would ever love. I needed her like the air in my lungs and the steady beat of my heart.
I needed her and I wasn’t okay with that.
Though we’d been together longer than I’d been with any woman, I’d kept her at arm’s length, just waiting for the day I’d lose her. It seemed plausible that once I let her fully into my heart, she’d change her mind and walk out of my life.
Or worse, leave this earth at the hands of one of my enemies and cross into another dimension. Somewhere in the clouds to sing with the angels like my mamma, and completely out of my reach for all of eternity.
Like a fool, I ignored the fact that she already owned my heart and soul, and I really wasn’t okay with it. I’d already lost two people in my life who were important to me, whom I’d loved dearly.
Julietta’s young, sweet face flashed behind my eyes. I cursed my memories. Hated how I couldn’t forget my first love from high school.
For most of my life, I believed I couldn’t love anyone more than Mamma and Julietta. I’d built walls around my heart to protect myself from feeling the severe pain I’d felt when they died.
But Isla Martin had entered my life when I least expected it and breached the boundaries I’d put in place with ease, grace, and elegance.
“If you don’t do something, you’re going to lose her,” Roman said as he passed me a glass of Prosecco.
“Thanks.” I took the crystal flute and exhaled a labored breath, closing my eyes for a brief second to re-center myself.
My brother and I stared at Isla across from us. The shimmering pool between us was aglow, illuminating her blonde hair and fair skin.
She tilted her head and swept her bangs to the side with her index finger, faking a smile. I knew the move. She only did it when trying to hide her annoyance and frustration.
“I won’t lose her,” I said with absolute certainty, even though I didn’t believe my own words. I couldn’t sound weak in front of my brother.
“You will if you don’t change your ways. When are you going to take your relationship to the next level? She needs assurances. Hell, we all need to know you’re serious about her. Most of all, Padre. He loves Isla.” Roman laughed, putting the glass to his lips.
I grunted, because I knew how much Padre and my sister, Rosa, both loved Isla.
“I’m sure he’s secretly praying you knock her up.” Roman gulped his drink and avoided my narrowed gaze.
Praying for a baby?
My blood turned cold, the air in my lungs evaporating. My brother couldn’t be serious.
Don’t panic. Roman is screwing with you. He’s after a reaction.
Or maybe not.
I leveled my gaze at him, keeping my internal freak-out contained. “If you know something I don’t, you better fill me in. Now.”
Roman was the peacekeeper of the family. Our father relied on him to keep him informed of the goings-on with his children. Unfortunately for Luca and me, that meant Roman also had a big mouth and often ratted us out.
“Padre asked about you and Isla, that’s all.” Roman continued to avoid eye contact, a sure sign there was more he wasn’t telling me.
“Is that all?” I asked through gritted teeth, confident there was more.
“Did you know Isla had lunch with Rosa last week?”
Isla locked eyes with me just as my jaw twitched. It was as if she had sensed we were talking about her. She didn’t smile, nor did I.
“I didn’t know that.” I bit down on my back molars to keep from exploding in a fit of rage.
Usually, Isla told me when she and my sister went out together.
At least once a month they would meet for lunch.
Sometimes they went shopping or to the movies.
A couple of months ago, they’d planned Christmas together.
But they weren’t that close, were they?
Why in the hell didn’t she tell me? Why keep it a secret?
“Thought so. Don’t you guys communicate?” Roman sighed, swirling the crystal flute and watching the lights bounce off it.
“Apparently not,” I hissed. Isla didn’t look away as my secretary, Millie, talked animatedly to her. “What do you know, Roman?”
“She loves you.”
“I know she does.” I squeezed the glass in my hand and made a fist with my other. She shouldn’t love me, just as I shouldn’t… care about her.
“But…” Roman stopped to inhale a deep breath.
“But what?” The muscles in my neck coiled. I squeezed my fisted hand tighter as I waited for him to continue.
“She doesn’t like all the women throwing themselves at you. She told Rosa you let them flirt and hang on you.”
“She’s young. Overly emotional. She’ll get used to it.”
“Will she get used to it, though?”
“Those women mean nothing to me. You know it. I know it. She knows it.” Now was not the time to discuss my personal life. What was my brother doing? He knew better.
“Does she know it?” he asked.
“Cazzo!” I spat fuck out of my mouth in Italian. I’d had enough of this pointless topic. Nothing would ever change so everyone, including Isla, had better get used to it.
Of course, I had no right to be angry with anyone else but myself. Isla was turning twenty-two this summer. She was so young; fourteen years younger than me.
Sometimes even the most ruthless, heartless man could be brought to his knees when the right woman entered his life, age difference be damned.
Not only was Isla gorgeous and kind, but she was also a talented designer in her final year of college. Nothing had come easy for her, and her challenges had made her resilient and more mature than her peers. She reminded me of my mother in many ways, only a blonde version, which scared me most.
I nodded to myself. In time, she’ll learn to deal with women trying to get me to fuck them. She must trust me.
I’d told her a million times I wasn’t the cheating type, but my words had fallen on deaf ears. Her replies had never changed, Actions speak louder than words, Ciro.
“I didn’t mean to piss you off, but I’m worried for you, brother,” Roman said, sounding genuine as always.
“Don’t be. No matter what happens, I’ll be fine.”
“Not if you lose her.” His words hit me like a dark foreshadowing demon.
Before I could issue Roman a sarcastic reply, a man approached my woman. He seemed to introduce himself, took her hand and kissed the top. They shared a brief, seemingly innocent exchange.
Millie, my awkward assistant, swayed from side to side beside Isla and the gentleman. The movement was her nervous tic around handsome, eligible bachelors.
But the man appeared to only have eyes for my Isla.
“Who’s the guy?” Roman asked in a protective tone. He cared about Isla as he did our little sister.
“I’m not sure.”
Isla laughed, letting her bangs fall over her left eye. She didn’t brush the hair away. No, she let them hang, hang like a curtain shielding a flirty expression.
I nearly slammed the glass onto a table as she giggled at whatever the fuck the son of a bitch said to her.
But I wouldn’t explode outwardly. I kept my cool, so I didn’t draw attention to myself.
“You need to get over there before he steals your girl. Isla told Rosa she didn’t think you guys would last but hoped she could still be friends with her.”
Not last?
“What the fuck, Roman? You’re just telling me this now?” I growled through gritted teeth and turned on him, both my hands fisted. I had never hit one of my brothers, but right now, I wanted to break Roman’s face.
He stepped back, clearly aware of the dangers standing before him. “Calm down. I only heard about it this morning. Maybe you should talk to Rosa more frequently.”
I was about to storm off to claim my woman when I was stopped.
“Ciro! Oh, Ciro, darling! Where have you been hiding?” A “leggy blonde” squealed. Her long arms wrapped around my neck and a hand cupped the back of my head. Her scarlet lips captured mine as the flash of a camera blinded me.
Worst fucking timing.
“Annalise, you look lovely tonight,” I said in my sincerest, fakest voice, pulling away from her firm grasp. I couldn’t stand the money-hungry, fame-obsessed social media influencer. But she talked up my casinos to her millions of followers. Word of mouth was the most profitable advertising.
It took a moment for the stars to go away after the bright flash, but I didn’t have to see to know Isla was watching us.
“Thank you, handsome. You’re looking dapper yourself. Why haven’t you called me?” She ran her hand up and down my chest, leaning into me, all amorous and shit.
Yes, I’d fucked her before, years before Isla and me had gotten together. I’d fucked a lot of women as thanks for promoting my casinos.
Sue me. I enjoyed sex and hadn’t been picky about where I stuck my dick. I’d been a reckless cunt most of my life.
But I had changed and was faithful to Isla. Regardless, my fucking past would rear its ugly head unexpectedly from time to time, like now.
“Excuse me?” I glared into her wide blue eyes. They were framed in thick-black eyeliner and false eyelashes. Her floral perfume almost made me gag.
“Well, I mean, to work together.” Annalise snaked her hand around my bicep. “I could perform in one of your clubs. Rub your back and you rub mine, just like old times.”
I flicked my eyes at Isla. She was gone. So was the guy she had been talking to.
“Dance floor.” Roman sneered, stalking away.
I noticed the disgust in his eyes when they darted to Annalise hanging on me. This scene was exactly what he was talking about when he said I would lose Isla.
Cazzo! It enraged me that he might be right.
I couldn’t live in denial anymore, believing I could do as I pleased, and Isla would deal with it. She loved me, no question. But eventually, she’d surrender in defeat and dump my ass.
Part of me wanted her to leave me. She deserved better.
The other part of me knew I’d die without her.
I scanned the south end of the backyard where the DJ was set up and spotted my girl dancing to a silky-smooth John Legend song with Mr. No Name. His hand rested below the arch of her back, his fingers splayed out, holding her close. The motherfucker made her laugh again.
“Excuse me, Annalise.” I pulled away, my eyes on Isla as I stalked toward the other side to rescue My-la from a woman-eating predator.
“Ciro wait,” Annalise called, but I didn’t stop.
The closer I got to Isla, the more I felt like I would explode. The asshole was clearly putting the moves on my woman. His hand dropped lower, his face inching closer to hers.
Why didn’t she stop him? Shove him away? Slap his forgettable face?
Stay calm. I couldn’t show emotion in front of my guests. They knew me as a ruthless, merciless Mafia man. Losing my cool would instantly put a target on Isla’s back.
A server carrying a tray of tequila shots headed my way. Yes, it wasn’t Italian, but I had to cater to all my guests, and I enjoyed a shot of tequila from time to time.
I held a hand up to stop him and took a glass in each hand, downing them one after the other.
Semi-controlled, I set the shot glasses on the tray and went to the DJ to make a special song request…