All Chapters of THE GODFATHER'S SIBLINGS: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Zandra Russo POV I’ve spent my whole life watching Dad at work, but I never realized how much paperwork was involved with running a mafia. Nothing’s actually physical—because why on Earth would we make the mistake of leaving behind a trail for cops to follow—but the administrative duties of a Mafia Boss are honestly mind-boggling. Treaties, funds transfers, general territory management… “My head hurts,” I grumble from behind Dad’s desk. He chuckles beside me, tapping the computer screen with a patient smile. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll come easier with time. You’ll be doing all this stuff with your eyes closed before you know it.” I push his keyboard away and give him a hard look. “Did you remember to take your medication today? Shouldn’t you be in bed? You need to rest and—”Dad pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Your mother’s giving me enough grief as it is.”“A heart attack,” I grumble, still in disbelief. Dad’s always been as fit as a bull. I think a p

Zandra Russo POV “I’m so pickled.” Alessandra laughs loudly as Vincent and I help her to the car. One of our drivers is already waiting by the curb, the SUV’s engine rumbling steadily. “Take her home,” I tell her bodyguards. “Make sure she’s got plenty of water and an aspirin at her bedside. I have a feeling she’s going to need it tomorrow morning.” Alessandra manages to give me a quizzical look. “Wait, you’re not coming with me?” “I have some… business to take care of.” “Business? What kind of business?”“Family business, Alessandra.” “I’m family.”“Yes, you are.”“You need a fucking vacation, Zandra. All work and no play makes Zandy a dull girl.”I roll my eyes. “I’ve only been at this for a week, babe.”Alessandra throws her arms around me, hugging me tight while resting her cheek against my shoulder. “You’re working too hard. What if you have a heart attack, too?” Her eyes start misting, the softest of sobs bubbling past her lips. Uh oh. In the blink of an eye, my twin starts

Thorton Gallardo POV When I get to the taxi depot the next morning, I feel like two hundred and fifty pounds of pure shit. Sleep eluded me the entire night. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her. The way her hair slipped over her shoulders; the smooth, milky curve of her bare ass. Her voice was still ringing in my ear, a siren’s call driving me insane. I swear to God if I’m not careful, that woman will be the death of me. I tell myself last night was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. There’s no way in hell I can ever get in bed with my enemy again. What happened between us last night—as delicious and world-changing and amazing as it was—can never happen again. It was probably just something we needed to get off our chests, the tension between us building ever since we first met. Now that we’ve blown off some steam, it’s back to business as usual. So why can’t I get my shit together? My mind wanders during the company’s weekly debrief. It’s boring stuff to begin with, but I find

Thorton Gallardo POV 12:45 a.m. Is it on the armchair of the hotel room couch, hunched over with my elbows resting on my knees? Fifteen more minutes. I tell myself I’m going to wait fifteen minutes, and if she doesn’t show… I have no clue why I’m so anxious to see her. No, not anxious. Excited. Zandra crashing my meeting was never a part of the plan. She officially has spooked all my potential business partners, and for good reason. It takes a lot to impress me, but the woman who strode into that restaurant, confident and dressed to kill, nearly had my jaw on the floor. All it took was one look and I knew…This is what a Mafia Boss princess looks like. I contemplate leaving early. As the seconds tick by, I grow more and more restless. It was never my intention to see Zandra again, but I couldn’t help myself. Something in my hindbrain kicked in, overriding any rational thought I might have had with the unlikely promise of tasting her lips again.Everything about this is a bad idea. The

Zandra Russo POV “And where do you think you’re sneaking off to?” Jovito asks me as I make my way down the stairs. He’s lounging on the living room couch, phone up to his face with his feet crisscrossed on top of the far armrest. He looks cozy, bundled up in one of the sweaters Aunt Angelina knitted for him for his twentieth birthday this year. “I’m not sneaking off anywhere,” I say. “I’ve just got work to do.”“Do you need any help?”I give my little brother a sweet smile. He’s not as involved with the Mafia as I am by choice, much preferring his books and a quiet existence. Jovito’s always been this way. Too kind and frankly too soft-spoken for this world, which is probably why Mom and Dad never felt the need to push him too hard. They trained him in the basics—self-defense, firearm handling, everything a Mafia prince might need to know—but overall, he’s pretty much hands-off unless he wants to be involved. It must be nice, I think, to live however he wants without the burden of f