4. Renzo
T he ballroom was still crowded when I insisted on taking my father home. Many soldiers remained, both to clean up the scene and to begin handling the investigation. Multiple leaders within the Bernardi Family would supervise. Among them, answers would be collected. No stone would remain unturned.
One way, sooner or later, we would know who'd dared to kill Luka tonight. At his own fucking wedding.
As I escorted my father to the large mansion he called home, I let all the emotions run through me. Anger. Worry. Anxiety. Hatred.
Sadness, too, but it wasn’t as deep of a feeling. Luka and I were never close. Two years separated us, but it could have very well been twenty years.
Since birth, we were treated differently. He was the eldest. He’d carry on the family name. Everything fell on his shoulders, not mine, and as such, we weren’t raised the same. We weren’t expected to grow up as brothers, as siblings. With his status as the heir, he had to be taught from the beginning how to behave, and his upbringing made him an asshole.
I didn’t want to speak ill of the dead—even the newly dead—but there was no love lost between us.
Still, it was a loss. His death was a shocking crime, and it would hit us hard.
I glanced again at my father as I parked. Drivers stood at the ready, but I told them all to leave us. I’d wondered if he’d speak on the ride home, but no matter how many times I checked in the rear mirror, he remained still and zoned out in the backseat.
Once we arrived home, he moved with more effort. He still seemed to be in a trance, not completely with it and alert after seeing his firstborn dead.
“Gio,” I said, calling him as he preferred, always by his first name.
He held up his hand as he stalked toward his study, warding me from speaking.
I knew better than to leave his side. Without anything being said, he expected me to follow him. After such a night, I didn’t want to have him face this loss alone. It was just the two of us now, and we would stick together.
But I had nothing to offer him. Luka was his son. I was his spare.
Or I had been until tonight.
Gio and I were never close, and it showed in how stilted we were in his study.
I didn’t know what to say. I hardly knew what to think.
Did he want comfort? I doubted it. Was he waiting on me to take action? I never had before.
All I could do was struggle with every sentiment that hit me.
I was furious that someone had dared to kill a Bernardi groom at his wedding.
I was worried that Gio would expect me to step up in my brother’s place.
And I was impatient. I had to figure out where to hit, how to strike back. Luka and I were never close. We weren’t traditionally sentimental as brothers, but he was one of my family members. I would avenge him. No matter what.
“It’s on you now,” he stated gruffly as he reclined into his leather chair near the fireplace. No flames roared there, not in the summer heat we suffered now. Regardless, it was his place. His throne, I used to think when I was younger. The place where he’d sat on countless occasions to order Luka around.
Now it was my turn.
My turn that I thought I’d never have. Never wanted.
“You are my son, Renzo.”
I remained locked in place, biting my cheek. He didn’t add now . I was his son now , and he’d treat me as the next in line.
“You will need to step up and take the responsibility that Luka always had.”
I exhaled, trying to keep my breath steady. “He’s only been dead for a couple of hours.”
He slammed his hand on the side table, causing the lamp on it to rattle. “Are you shirking from what’s expected of you? Already?”
I heaved out a deep breath. “No. I won’t. I’m not.”
“I expect you to find your brother’s killer.” He slammed his lips in a thin line.
“Of course.”
“And kill them,” he growled.
“I know.” I didn’t roll my eyes. I wasn’t that stupid, but the sooner he stopped treating me like a moron, the faster we could make progress in here.
I didn’t bother worrying about his reactions. I didn’t waste another second thinking about his mental health or how he was taking this. Giovanni Bernardi was a leader. He was the Boss of the Family, and of course, he would want to move straight into action. This was how he retaliated. With action. With swift decisions. Not with tears. If he had the ability to express any other emotions than anger or authority, I wouldn’t know. He never showed it in public, or in front of me.
“So far, all the soldiers closest to Luka are providing incomplete and sketchy reports.”
He waved his hand, dismissing me indifferently. “Of course. It’s only just happened,” he growled. Although he did raise his brows, almost surprised that I’d been paying attention all the while after Luka was announced dead. He probably assumed I never noticed anything, too busy partying and living my life, but I was always aware. Even if I was the spare, I was a Bernardi, and our enemies weren’t kind.
“But I can’t see how it wouldn’t be Rocco Acardi,” I added.
Thinking of that old drunk peeved me because the first thought of him pushed me into recalling his daughter. Giulia felt so sweet under my lips, her cunt wrapped around my fingers. I would’ve stayed just like that, pleasuring and teasing her until I’d prove her sassy mouth wrong. That I wasn’t some lackluster lover.
“Don’t be rash.” He sat up, sighing. “Reports will take time. You cannot rush to conclusions and kill anyone and everyone who comes to mind.”
Again, I withheld from groaning at his patronizing tone. I fucking know that.
“He was right there. He was up there near them at the head table when he was found dead,” I reminded him. I doubted he’d forgotten. He’d been in the room when it happened, and I’d rushed in there from the patio.
The Romano guards hurried close to secure the situation, and in doing so, they’d attacked Rocco. It didn’t look good, but I was coming in blind. I had to get more answers before acting on anything.
“If I had to point fingers,” he said, narrowing his eyes and staring at the fireplace, “I’d be looking at the Romanos.”
“Nickolas or Marcus?” I asked of the son and father.
“Either.” Gio scowled. “Both of them voiced concerns about Luka before the marriage. Nickolas disliked him ever since that one whore died.”
I knew exactly what he was speaking about. I couldn’t remember her name, but both Luka and Nickolas favored her. She’d died under suspicious circumstances, and Nickolas accused Luka of having a hand in her death since it happened at a Bernardi residence.
“Marcus may be wealthy,” he said, “but he’s an unscrupulous bastard I’ll never fully trust.”
But you trusted him enough to let your son marry his daughter?
For so long, I’d turned my eye and ignored all the layers of complicated Mafia laws and grudges. It never mattered before, and I hated that it would have to be my world now.
We argued back and forth for a bit about our suspicions, and he told me more about which of the men would answer to me now.
In the end, I was too impatient to sit around and wait, too restless to talk and speculate. Things like this would take time, but I didn’t want to be idle.
Rocco Acardi had behaved suspiciously, and I wanted to jump on the action now. If he’d killed my brother, he would be home and feeling guilty. Acting out of sorts. Vulnerable, even with that remorse. Or maybe stupidly high on the victory of killing a Bernardi.
“I will avenge him,” I vowed sincerely before I took my leave.
I set out to begin that process now. If Rocco wasn’t guilty, then I’d need to dig deeper and figure out who was. Grieving and mourning wouldn’t happen now. Action was necessary. I had to show my father that I would step up, even at these hardest moments.
And that was why I arrived at the Acardi residence late into the night. After parking a ways back to avoid being detected by their patrolling guards, undoubtedly on high alert with their boss attacked at the wedding, I snuck closer and closer.
Gio was wrong to assume I didn’t know anything about what it took to be a ruthless Mafia man. I’d always been loyal to the Family, even if I never had to do much. Stealth came easily to me, but I’d fine-tuned that skill set by sneaking around with women. Getting into married women’s beds or running out of coveted mistresses’ homes, I’d learned how to get around without being detected, and that was precisely what I did at the Acardi residence.
Getting up close to the back entrance wasn’t difficult, but I waited outside for a long while to better gauge when I could pop in and find Rocco. Patience was the key to any secretive mission. The longer I stalled just outside the doors, the better I could track the guards’ movements and predict when the way would be clear.
Once I snuck in, I hustled through the hallways and stuck to the shadows, seeking out the master suite where Rocco would no doubt be resting or preparing to retire.
Maybe it’s too late. He had taken a beating from the Romano guards at the wedding. Rocco Acardi wasn’t fit. He wasn’t that old, either, but he seemed to be one of those leaders who relied too heavily on his men to do all the dirty work. Gio still worked out, but his health complications seemed to linger and matter more than they used to.
I found Rocco too soon. Upstairs, in a lounge room, he was passed out on a couch. No guards stood outside the doors of the drunk man snoring away. Blood had been cleared from his brow. A fat bandage covered the cut. It had to be the half-empty bottle of wine still clutched in his hand that had helped knock him out.
I hesitated, wondering whether I should kill him right here and now.
I could, but the question remained. Should I? He was asleep, vulnerable and out of it. I could walk up and slice his neck. The end.
No. I couldn’t. Not like this. I had to be able to prove to Gio that I could step up and take over the responsibilities now thrust upon my shoulders. Killing Rocco without the proof that he’d murdered Luka wouldn’t do me any good.
If he was the one to poison my brother, only he could confess to the act.
Waking him up would be the best course of action. As I stepped out to do just that, to rouse him and demand answers, guards walked outside. I knew the sound of their steps already. Thudding and heavy. Booted, heavy men. But a woman’s voice went with them.
“I want patrols increased overnight,” Isabella Acardi ordered. “That worthless drunk of mine won’t think to tell you, but I insist on it. On his behalf.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I stayed plastered to the wall until it seemed that they’d gone by. While the risk of more guards would make it trickier to get out, I wasn’t worried. Not yet.
The sound of a door opening at the other end of this suite peeved me. Isabella was likely over there, and if the sound of light footsteps nearing this more open lounge area where Rocco slept were hers, she’d find me in seconds.
Fuck. Dealing with that vapid old woman wasn’t high on my list of things to do. Ever. Rocco was a drunk idiot, but his wife was nasty, cruel and always judgmental, wanting to impress everyone but quick to demand respect she didn’t deserve.
I turned out of the room, escaping into the hall. Before she could find her sleeping husband—or me, spying—I jogged down the long corridor and thought on the fly. I’d need to reroute my escape, but I wasn’t nervous. Adjustments could always be made. I was nimble on my feet, fast and quick-thinking.
Until I opened a pair of doors at the end of the hall, double doors that I could have sworn would lead to a stairwell past an upstairs ballroom. At least that was what I expected from the shape of that side of the mansion.
It wasn’t.
I’d crossed the threshold into a private wing.
Giulia’s wing.
I closed the door behind me, quietly, and still, she was oblivious to the fact that she had a visitor. My arrival made me more of something like a trespasser, but I’d timed it to the best moment possible.
She stood in the middle of her bedroom, pulling her dress off. Smooth, tan skin flexed as she twisted to remove the garment I’d shoved up on the rear patio at the wedding. I’d thrust my fingers under that thin layer of black lace. My hand had gripped that lush ass cheek, revealed with the high arch of her thong.
As she turned, tossing the dress to a cushioned bench positioned before a vanity, she met my gaze.
Fuck me.
I still hadn’t recovered from how we’d been ripped from the hot moment we shared at the wedding.
My lips tingled with a phantom touch from her alluring, sharp-witted mouth. I recalled with clarity how tightly she’d clenched around my fingers, pulsing and throbbing, slick with her juices as I played with her.
And I wanted her all over again.
“Renzo?”
Her voice was just a whisper, one full of surprise and desire. As she lowered her gaze to my crotch, I knew she'd noticed how instantly I was aroused again. The thought of her was enough to make me think of enjoying her submission again. Seeing her forced me to be close to tenting up my pants.
She kept her arms down, not shying away or rushing to cover herself up. Those huge tits stood high and full, taunting me as she stood tall in nothing but a lacy bra and thong. Her legs remained in place, not carrying her to hide at my catching her undressing.
With lust burning in her eyes, no doubt reflecting the way I stared at her, she licked her lips and watched me approach.
“Renzo, what are you doing here?” At the sound of a quick gasp behind her, she spun, finding her sister waking up on a chaise near the window.
Goddammit! I dropped to the carpet, rolling toward the bed to hide as the scared girl who’d been sleeping out of my sight in the room woke up fully and drew in a breath to scream.