Chapter 0008

LUCIANO

“Don’t you think Cartel’s going out of hand lately?” Pietro asked, and I held the swaying punching bag. Creasing my brows, I turned to him and he added, “We’ve had three attacks this week. They’re taking our soldiers hostage, thinking it’d have us bowing to them.”

I groaned. “What about our rescue team?”

“We only got one soldier unharmed, they shot the other two.”

I landed a hit on the bag, the thwacking sound louder than the thumping of my heart. My knuckles ached due to the repetitive collision—the continuous torture I had been putting myself through. I needed to get my mind straight because lately I had been too occupied by the thoughts about the Vitale Crime Family and Outfit. And Rose.

How could a woman be this untraceable? That only meant she was someone very important, and I needed to know why.

I had fucked a woman without knowing her name or who she was. My curiosity to know her was not because I was suddenly feeling shit about her. No. However, the urge had pricked every fucking cell in my body, which was very unnerving.

“You should probably go clean up. It’s Friday. Lys is coming, remember?”

Shit! Was it Friday already?

“Uh, yeah. I’ll get freshened up.” My brows creased as Pietro moved into the kitchen. “Also... did you find what I asked for?”

His shoulders heaved in silent laughter and he asked, “The mysterious woman you had a one-night stand with?”

He gave a glance in my direction, to which I nodded. My brother was the best tracker we had in Toronto and the whole of ‘Ndrangheta. He knew how to find people, even those who did not have any data in the official papers.

Ten years ago, he had told me that he could find out who had caused Bella’s accident. I had asked him to stay out of it. Only if I had not, maybe... maybe, Bella would have been my wife now.

“Tried to,” Pietro said, pulling my attention. “But I couldn't.”

I frowned. “What do you mean you couldn’t?”

“There’s no woman that matches your vivid description, brother. The only one who does is almost fifty. And I’m sure she isn’t the one you’re so worked up over.” He took a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and shrugged. “Maybe if I could pull on our rat in New York, we could get a hint.”

“Tell a rat about the Capo's obsession with a chick he’s banged?” I shook my head. “No need. I’ll find her myself.”

“Good luck with that. It is not as if you have an entire empire with over two hundred men and women resting on your shoulders or anything.”

“You’re a dick,” I shot back.

“At least there could be a chance of you running into her tomorrow.” Seeing me arch a brow, he mouthed, “At the reception.”

I rolled my eyes. “They're doing it again? I will go out of my mind if I have to see Adonis and Bella being all mushy any more than I already have.”

“Take it as a test of your endurance, brother. You can keep yourself busy by looking for that woman you’ve grown so fond of.”

I snorted. “Fond of? I want to know who she is, that’s it.”

“Now, hurry,” he said, glancing at his wristwatch. “I’ve already ordered takeout. Our sister doesn’t come by so often.”

Yes. Except for every Friday. Lyssandra, our sister, lived in London with our aunt and cousins. She enjoyed it there because she was doing what she loved the most. She would graduate with a degree in marketing soon and then she would be here with us... unless Pa had other plans, like her marriage for the benefit of the syndicate.

Lys was a lot like Rose, headstrong and straightforward. Rose’s voice echoed at the back of my mind, complaining about how much she loathed the complete system of marriage in our world.

“We’re awful brothers, you know. We should feed our sister fresh home-cooked meals and not ordered ones,” I said.

“She’ll die if either of us cooks and her safety before everything else, right?”

***

Both Pietro and I watched as Lys took the boxes of pizza and stuffed them in the refrigerator. I enjoyed her silent murmurs while noting how much she had changed.

Her golden locks like our ma’s were now cherry-blonde and curled into waves till her shoulders. She had gotten slimmer, which was a huge change and a shock to us since both Pietro and I liked her chubbier.

She whirled around in her flower-print yellow frock and said, “I’m cooking.”

“Since when did you learn to cook?” Pietro asked, drawling and pressing his brows together.

“Uh... since I moved out?”

“Clearly,” I mocked. “Have you seen yourself? You are all bones. I bet all you eat is grass.”

Lys laughed. “This isn’t called bones, Benny.” I rolled my eyes at the name. No one called me that anymore, except for her. “And I can make lasagne and some garlic fritters for us.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” I looked at Pietro, who still did not look too comfortable. “At least her love for garlic hasn’t changed.”

He leaned in and whispered, “I liked the old her, who ran around the house yelling at us. This one’s like the ‘silence before the storm’ kind of good.”

“Unpredictable, I know,” I hummed back.

“I can hear you two.” Lys’s mouth twitched, but she did not react and moved from cupboard to cupboard, gathering the ingredients for the recipes.

This was awkward. My sister did not know how to cook a month back, the last time she had visited.

She was the youngest of us; eight years younger than I was. I had witnessed her quirky teenage phase to the ‘pretending to be’ mature stage, and now she was a baby who had grown up too quickly. I did not like the thought of that.

“Tell me, brother, how’s Sabina?” Lys asked and glanced at Pietro. So did I.

There was a hint of something in his eyes I could not catch. He... seemed different, and this flicker of emotion—whatever it was—worried me.

“Sabina?” I asked with a raised brow.

I knew exactly who Sabina was. Sabina Jacaruso was still a mystery to us. She had shown up in one of our bars two and a half years ago, wanting—desperate—to work for us. Who she was and where she had come from were questions I had no answers to. Pietro, being the typical outré he was, had tried to dig her information out, but there was nothing.

She could have been a danger to me. To my brother. To all of us.

“She’s good,” Pietro answered in a more cautious tone. He had always been careful of his words, but right now, he struggled with the bare minimum he spoke. “She has resumed her studies.”

“That’s great.” Lys sounded rejoiced. “What’s she studying?”

“Designing.”

“Wait!” I growled. “What the fuck are you both talking about? Am I missing something?”

Pietro finally met my gaze and said, “Nothing, it’s just—”

Lys propped her elbows on the island and rested her chin on the back of her hands. She mused, “For the first time in his life, our brother has caught the fancy of a woman.”

My jaw tightened. “Oh, no, no, no. No! Not a chance.”

Lys tilted her head, her smile disappearing within seconds. “What do you mean?”

“Sabina Jacaruso?” I asked, disgust ringing through my voice. “Seriously?”

“Is there something wrong with him seeing her?”

“There’s everything wrong with that woman.” I turned to Pietro. “What’re you even thinking?”

“You don’t have to worry about it. It’s nothing.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“That fucked up smile you gave the moment Lys mentioned her name is something I should worry about. A casual fuck should always remain a casual fuck.”

Lys’s face scrunched. The disappointed look she gave me would have bothered me if I were not so enraged by the whole situation. “Our brother doesn’t do casual sex, Benny,” she said. “You know that and I thought you’d be smart enough to see how happy he has been these past few months.”

“Do you even know who she is?” Neither of them answered. I went on, “She’s dangerous, and I will not risk it.”

“I’ve been seeing her for a year and a half now.” My eyes widened, and Pietro added, “And she has shown no signs of danger. You know I don’t trust people easily, but I trust her and it’s not without reason.”

“One and a half years and you didn’t bother to tell me?” My voice piqued. “I’m your Capo, and it's your duty to tell me who you’re slipping in and out of our goddamn house.”

All those weekend family times when he had disappeared, now I understood where he had gone. He was keeping secrets from me... for a woman he barely knew. I could not believe this.

My nostrils flared, and my fingers itched. I yelled, “Whatever the fuck you have with that woman, end it.” He was about to speak, but my glare silenced him. “No questions asked. I will not have someone like her have power over your emotions. Get a grip.”

“So he could be emotionless like you?”

Lys’s words made my frown grow deep. I was not emotionless. I had never been, but being a Capo had taken away my power of expression.

Before I could yell at our sister, Pietro chimed in, “You know what? Benito is right. Sabina is just a phase that’ll pass.” Gulping, he muttered, “I’ll just... have to control myself a little more.”

Lys shook her head, disbelief sparkling in her eyes while they shuffled between Pietro and me. Pressing her lips into a fine line, she tossed the hand towel on the countertop and walked out of the kitchen, each of her steps heavy with anger.

My phone chimed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, giving Pietro a brief glance. I knew my words hurt him, but he would be okay. If he started catching feelings for every woman he fucked, we would be in huge trouble.

A notification from Underground Writer 101 popped on the screen, and my frown grew deeper. Pietro, too, had received the same alert.

Underground Writer 101 had become a problem for all of us. The person behind the blog had some kind of benefit, revealing the lives of Mafiosos like us. I enjoyed the drama the blog put forth and the hassle that came after that, but recently, most of the buzz had been about me and how I had become the ‘other man’ for the Outfit princess.

I hoped today’s headline was different, and it was. A new wedding on the way in Cosa Nostra—it read.

The last thing I wanted was more scoops on Bella and Adonis’s romance story. I was done with it. I was about to press the close button when my eyes landed on a picture of a familiar figure. She had doe eyes and glimmering blonde hair. My throat dried.

It was Rose. I had found her. I should have been happy because after a week of searching, I had finally found her, but one glimpse at the name below her picture and I realised what a huge mistake I had made.

Rosaline Guerra, sister of Domenico Guerra, Consigliere of Famiglia—that was who she was. The picture of her was taken while she was with her brother, half his face visible in the picture. She looked so fucking innocent in her pink dress with strapped sleeves. I loved the sleek rise of her neck too much.

She was a rose, one with too many thorns on her, those thorns being the entirety of the New York Cosa Nostra. She was one of the forbidden fruits, besides Adonis’s sisters.

Pietro watched me with caution. He knew Rosaline Guerra was the woman I had been searching for. I hoped he would not flip like a UNO reverse card and give me the shit about casual fucks I had just given him.

I had fucked her, and now I was fucked.