2. Leo
2
LEO
I didn’t come here for sex.
I’m truly only here because my father convinced me to meet with Don Ricci. Given the elder mafioso’s infamy, I can’t fully fathom why, except that my father was convinced that I’d hand over any money after the meetup.
The only problem is that Flavio De Tore hasn’t really been in charge since I was a kid, so I wouldn’t give him shit. Complications with secret health issues stripped him of his ability to manage the De Tore family and its business interests, which ultimately led to duties being split between me and my uncle Gino.
My father’s pride—and I suppose the nature of our world—keeps him from admitting his failing health, though. Deals are brokered from behind closed dosors and big wooden desks or through a proxy who pretends Flavio is otherwise occupied.
Since I turned eighteen last year, I’ve been his most trusted soldier. The one he’s grooming to take over when he can’t hide anymore.
Ironic, considering the abuse I suffered until the day I became a legal adult, but still.
He gets the glory of leadership, and I’m in the trenches.
But the blood I’ve spilled on the family’s behalf says I earned my title. I genuinely don’t appreciate Rafael’s assumption that I’m willing to renege on a contract now just because he’s too chicken to hand over his financial assets.
Even if the girl before me is possibly the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
Like her two older sisters, Stella Ricci’s beauty defies logic. Her cheekbones are soft, flushed even in the piss-poor cathedral lighting, as are the other angles of her face. Like they’ve been carved from clay instead of stone and shaped with the utmost care.
Rage courses through me as I watch his grubby paw mash her cheeks together.
Luscious dark-brown locks spill down her body, ending just below the gentle curve of her breasts in the hideous dress she’s wearing. Its sleeves billow out above the ruched skirt, and I can’t help wondering who the hell thought it was a good idea to use that as a seduction tactic.
I rake my gaze over her form slowly, then come back up to her head. Christ , her hair is magnificent. Soft and a little wavy. My fingers ache with the urge to reach out and run through the strands, maybe even count each one as they grace my pillow.
Two elegant brows border magnificent russet eyes, hooded as she stares at the gun pressed to her forehead.
She seems more annoyed than anything else. Not an ounce of fear shines in her gaze even though she’s quite literally looking death in the face.
Perhaps she doesn’t know any better. Rafael’s daughters likely grew up sheltered, given his religious beliefs and the traditional tendencies of the Mafia, so I suppose her ignorance of who I am isn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Or maybe she’s already decided there are worse fates than death.
Attending the same church or community functions is the closest I’ve ever been to Stella. I was homeschooled from age nine, while the Ricci kids famously attended private all-girl academies. I’ve watched her, heard the rumors, and I’ve seen the things adult men write about her on the restroom stalls.
It’s nothing like standing before the princess herself—like staring directly at the stars.
The closer you get, the clearer they become.
I focus my attention back on the matter at hand. “You want to fuck me, stellina ?”
There’s a split second of hesitation, and then she gives a short shake of her head.
The quiet, smart one. Headstrong and unsociable, whereas her sisters are bold and generous with their interactions. Accepted into some prestigious college on the West Coast, though attendance would be unlikely, given our world.
Perhaps that’s why Rafael brought her to me instead: to keep her on this side of the country, where he can continue manipulating her for his gain.
“Hmm. You’d give me an unwilling lay?” The question is directed at her father, though I don’t look away from her.
“I’m standing right here,” she murmurs, pursing her lips to one side as she speaks, as if too nervous to open her mouth fully.
I smirk, amused that she’d say anything at all.
Something lights up in my chest, piquing my interest. The supposedly dull, studious girl is a stone-cold statue as Death whispers against her pale skin.
As if a wildcat exists beneath the surface of her skin, waiting for the chance to pounce.
“That you are.” I wait for her gaze to lift to mine. “So, what exactly do you want?”
Her eyes narrow. “Right this second? I want to go home and sleep. In the long-term, I’d like to attend Stanford, like I’m supposed to, and get my microbiology degree. Work in a lab for a few years, do some genetic mutation fellowships, and maybe cure cancer.”
My brows hike up. I wasn’t expecting an honest answer, especially not one so detailed. “I see. So, you’re saying you have no intent to see this arrangement through?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Are you always so honest?”
“I don’t see the point in lying right now,” she says with a shrug. “I can yearn all I like, but I can’t change anything that’s happening…right?”
Her eyes shimmer with that question, and it takes me a moment to formulate a reply.
“Tales of the Ricci sisters’ backbones run rampant in the Boston underworld. How unfortunate for me that I seem to have gotten the only one lacking in that regard.”
“This is highly unorthodox,” Rafael snaps, squeezing her harder. She winces, and I know it’s not because of me. He glares in my direction, over her. “You shouldn’t even be speaking until this arrangement has been carried out.”
“The arrangement was you paying off what your greedy wife stole from my family.”
“‘Stole’ is a bit of a harsh term?—”
“Did she not trick her way into men’s beds in exchange for favors and cash? My cash?”
I keep my gaze on Stella, waiting to see if the revelation changes anything for her. Either she’s aware that her mother is a lowly vermin, thieving from the gardens of others, or she doesn’t care.
“Anyone else would’ve already put a bullet between your teeth, Rafael. You should be grateful I have more patience than most.”
“She did it because she had to,” he rushes out. “Necessity drove Carmen to your finances; we were desperate, drowning in debts caused by our eldest turning informant. Surely, you can understand something like that. Have some fucking mercy, De Tore, for Christ’s sake.”
“How dare you beg me for mercy.” I turn slightly, removing the gun from Stella’s forehead to press it to her father’s temple. “In the Lord’s house. Don’t you find that blasphemous? As if I’d ever grant you it anyway.”
“I—I don’t have the money,” Rafael says finally, shaking like a leaf. “Carmen has been…missing for the better part of the last few years, and there is no way to access anything without arousing suspicion. The goddamn Feds are still watching me, you know.”
He blows out a breath, and Stella cringes again. I glance down, noting the vise grip he has on her arm, and irritation roars between my ears.
“So, you lied to get me here. Then, instead of admitting you’re a sniveling cazzo , you present me with your youngest daughter. She’s not even your most valuable player.” They both bristle at the proclamation, which fuels me further. My finger unlocks the gun’s safety, and while fear registers immediately on his face, hers remains calm and collected. “Very disrespectful, Rafael. Someone needs to teach you some fucking manners.”
“ Please , I’ll do anything, but… she’s really all I have.”
I’m not sure how much of his spiel is true, given the contacts he retains and business he still controls, even after the trial for his many crimes. If I hold it at face value, then taking his daughter will shift any of his remaining power to my hands.
But not for a simple one-time lay. That won’t change anything except make her an open target for men in the city. If they don’t already desire her for her looks, then they’ll undoubtedly jump at the chance to mess with her father.
No, she needs to be something more than a fuck.
I glance at her dress, then back to Rafael, a thought unfolding in my mind. “Then let her go.”
He sputters, beads of sweat pouring down the sides of his aged face. “What?”
“You’re soiling my gift.”
“Y-your gift? You’re accepting my offer?” He exhales roughly, glancing between the two of us.
“No, but I’ll counter.” I wait, raising my brows pointedly at where he still holds her. After a moment, he releases her, and she stumbles out of the way with a grunt. “You want mercy, Rafael? Want me to pretend all this didn’t happen? I’ll need a bit more than a single night.”
“Oh!” He brightens at that—the pig. “Yes, absolutely. You can have as many goes with her as you’d like.”
My head turns, taking her in as she stands a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest, watching silently. If she were as smart as they say, she’d be halfway out of the church by now while I’m otherwise occupied.
Not that it’d matter.
She wouldn’t get far.
“I don’t want turns ,” I tell her father, my pulse quickening as I lock eyes with Stella. “Your last-born princess will be my wife, and no one else will touch her.”