Mafia Casanova

by Robinson, M.

  Hard to think.

  Hard to feel.

  Right now, at this moment.

  My life ended in the arms of Romeo.

  While men from all over New York City stopped by to show their respect to one of the most powerful families in the Sicilian Mafia.

  I leaned into his embrace, trying to shove the guilt from the last fight between Tristian and me.

  It was always the same.

  Jealousy—the chip on his shoulder.

  And working too much—the chip on mine.

  I never believed it would come to this, that our last fight, our last words would be the end of us. I’d let him slam the door. I’d screamed after him in frustration.

  There had been no goodbye kiss.

  No kind words.

  Just destruction.

  And now, desolation.

  Romeo was the last person I wanted to see. To feel. To have comforting me.

  He would always and forever be the chasm between Tristian and me. The one bridge both of us refused to build, to cross.

  “I’m sorry, Red,” he repeated.

  “I know.” I barely got the word out before clenching my teeth back together to keep from sobbing again, to keep from screaming Tristian’s name like it would bring him back.

  Romeo tugged me closer into the side of his body, and for the first time in years, I felt nothing for the man who once meant everything.

  “For what it’s worth,” he whispered into my ear. “I didn’t want this for him.”

  I didn’t want to feel his heat.

  His life.

  His steady heartbeat.

  I didn’t want the reminder that his brother—my husband was dead, and he was still very much alive.

  Our eyes locked.

  I hissed, “Leave.”

  “No.”

  Unable to hold back any longer, I spit fire, “It should have been you.” My voice cracked. “Do you hear me? It should have been you.”

  “You’re right.” He tensed. “And you know I would have taken his place over and over again just to see you happy.”

  “I can’t—” I sucked in a breath. “—I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

  Romeo turned and pulled me into his chest. “Breathe, in and out, there you go, in and out, Red.”

  Somehow the pressure against my chest gave me something to feel, to measure my breaths against; I clutched his hand and inhaled, exhaled.

  That’s all that existed in that moment, sucking air in and letting it out until my body finally collapsed under the weight of grief. I fell to the ground, taking him with me. Slumping against Romeo’s chest, he wrapped his arms around me tight.

  “What do you need?”

  His question brought me back to another place and time when he had asked me that same thing. I peered up through my lashes. Water dripped from his sharp chin.

  I counted the drops.

  And then I said, “I want you to find whoever killed Tristian, and I want them to suffer. I want them to bleed and beg for mercy. I want you to torture them until they die from your hands. When you’re done, I want you to come find me and show me their blood on your hands.”

  He was quiet for a second before he kissed my forehead. Letting his lips linger, he finally confirmed what I’d been waiting for since the moment I felt him.

  Not hesitating, he stated, “Done.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’m not afraid.” —Maleficent

  Eden

  Then: Three months later

  He was punishing me.

  Right there in front of all our family and friends.

  He was proving just how much he could hurt me.

  “Eden has always been the apple in everyone’s eyes,” Romeo declared into the microphone, standing front and center in the banquet room of our dinner rehearsal.

  This wasn’t your average wedding rehearsal dinner by any means, not when I was marrying into the Sinacore family. Nothing they did was normal. This was just another event where they could flaunt their power and influence. Show how big their brass balls were with the names in attendance.

  Rossi.

  Nicolasi.

  Campisi.

  Martinez.

  The Five Families.

  Those were just to name a few present, and this was only the night before our wedding. Tomorrow it would be politicians, cops, detectives, officers, judges.

  The list went on and on…

  Not to mention, the press, which was itching to get the first picture of the Mr. and Mrs.

  I waited, feeling as though I was on my knees begging for mercy. However, I wasn’t. I was sitting at the head table next to my soon-to-be husband, who held my hand tightly while we listened to his brother give a toast on our behalf. Silently, I prayed Romeo would grant me some leniency knowing, in my heart, he wouldn’t.

  He never did.

  Romeo continued on. Only I would notice that his smile was more cruel than congratulatory. “Eden has always been the type of woman that men gravitate toward. She walks into a room, and everyone turns to look at her, consumed with every last inch of her. She has the power to take your breath away without even trying. I can only hope that one day I will meet someone like her for myself. I want her to have your ability to make everyone love her, exactly like you do, Eden.”

  I kept my eyes on his, pretending as if I didn’t want to scream, “You fucking asshole!” in this room full of people because if he really wanted me, he would have had me. Rejection pounded through me at his words.

  I swear Romeo read my mind; his eyes suddenly connected with Tristian. “Growing up, my brother and I were both taught to go after what we want. For as long as I can remember, he’s loved you, Eden. He will be devoted to you, always putting you first no matter what. He was made to love you, Red, and you were born to love him.”

  I squeezed Tristian’s hand tight. He lifted mine to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against my skin, mistaking the squeeze for love when it was hate, so much hatred for his brother.

  His gaze came back to me, making sure I still had his attention; I refused to look away, lifting my chin in defiance as he continued to speak. “I’m looking at all of the beautiful women who came out to celebrate this union, and while he’s got the happily ever after, I’ve got my pick of the room.” He grinned. “You think you guys will do this again next week?”

  Everyone laughed, except me. Feeling the sting of his words. He guzzled down more of his amber liquid.

  Was he drunk?

  “From the first time we saw each other, I knew you were destined to be someone special in my life, and now I know you’re the woman who’s going to keep my brother’s bed warm.”

  Once again, everyone laughed at Romeo’s remarks. To an outsider looking in, he was the doting brother who was simply wishing us well. I knew better; he was throwing digs at me.

  “I promise I’m almost done.” He winked at me. “In all seriousness, I used to tease Eden about being a tomboy. After all, she was raised with us, fought with us, cried with us—often. And as I stand here and make this toast, I’m having a hard time imagining her all grown up—I’ll always see the little girl with pigtails chasing after us. I’ll forever cherish that girl even though she’s grown into a young woman. What a hard truth to accept—that even though I don’t see it—because I don’t want to—Eden’s all grown up.”

  I nearly jumped to my feet in outrage. Because that bastard knew. He knew his words hurt. I’d hit puberty late, hated that he called me little girl all the time, and now he was rubbing it in my face. All those private confessions where he told me I was perfect even though I had a flat chest and braces.

  My first sloppy kiss was Romeo. At least he attempted it before I chickened out and nearly stabbed him.

  It didn’t matter, because it was still a first. Right along with my first love, my first heartache.

  And now he was deliberately hurting me, drawing a line in the sand, shoving any sort of love that was still left on my
part off a cliff, and obliterating my heart in the process.

  Raising his glass in the air, he added, “I will always hold a special place in my heart for…” Romeo paused for a second, and it felt like my heart did too.

  Give me something. Please…

  “…the love you and Tristian share.”

  And my heart dropped to the floor.

  He gave me nothing.

  A single tear ran down my cheek, I tried to wipe it away before Romeo saw, but it was useless. Because Romeo Sinacore saw everything. His eyes flashed as he continued his toast.

  “To my brother and his bride, congratulations. I wish you all the best and many years of happiness. Welcome to the family, Eden. Soon to be Mrs. Sinacore.”

  He tossed back the last of his drink in finality and left the stage as the DJ turned up the music, motioning that the toasts were finished and the dancing should begin. It was seamless, the itinerary for our rehearsal, just like my future. Everything would be decided for me. To anyone who didn’t know, my life would be perfect, a fairy tale for a mafia princess.

  My eyes followed Romeo as he disappeared behind Andrei, the Sinacore boss. And there I sat, watching the laughing couples as they raced to the dance floor and started slow dancing to whatever the hell the song was.

  I could hear my own shallow breathing, and I wondered if Tristian noticed the deadness in my eyes, the empty feeling in my soul.

  “Hey.” Tristian stood and kissed the top of my head. “I’m gonna go grab some more food; you want anything? I noticed you didn’t eat a lot before the toasts.”

  How considerate.

  But that was Tristian.

  Always thinking about others.

  Putting them before himself even if it killed him.

  “No.” I forced a smile. “I’m good.”

  A wide grin spread across his face. I drank in his chiseled jaw and warm brown eyes. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “Only three or four times.” I kept my voice even, my smile small, to anyone watching they’d think we were having an intimate moment—how romantic, the soon-to-be bride and groom can’t seem to get enough of each other.

  Only the bride wasn’t thinking of her groom.

  I wished it was that easy.

  That the beautiful man in front of me consumed my thoughts, owned my soul.

  Instead, it was the asshole who hurt me. No matter what Romeo did, no matter how much love or hate he tossed in my direction, he would always take up residence in my heart.

  If I could quit him.

  I would.

  “Well, it’s true.” Tristian cupped my chin between his fingers, lifting my face toward him as he pressed a soft kiss against my lips. “Be right back.”

  I took a deep breath when he left in an effort to calm my anxiety and the tightness in my chest.

  The song shifted to one of my favorites, Lie by Jake Scott. I was almost tempted to go after Tristian when Romeo grabbed the microphone again and said. “I dedicate this song to the lovely—” My breath hitched. “—Celeste Gambino.”

  He set the wireless microphone down next to the DJ and crooked his fingers at Celeste.

  It was the final nail in the coffin.

  She smiled in triumph as she stalked toward him, her strapless red dress so short it was indecent—he’d have easy access. And she’d allow it. She’d wanted him for years.

  We’d grown up in the same circles. I wouldn’t exactly call her a friend, more like an enemy, and Romeo knew that. She was the one woman I’d told him was off-limits. We’d actually made a pact when I was sixteen. She’d hit on him again right in front of me, and I’d nearly pulled her fake blond extensions from her tiny head.

  He’d promised me he’d never touch her.

  And now?

  Now she was in his arms, her body plastered against his as they danced. He smiled down at her like he couldn’t wait to get her alone while she ran one of her hands through his hair, hooking it around his neck and pulling him closer.

  He was doing it on purpose.

  Making my hate boil to the point of no return.

  He spun her around, then locked eyes with me over her head, expression smug.

  She must have said something funny because he laughed, stole one last look at me, then lowered his head, eyes never leaving mine—and kissed her.

  Both arms went around his neck as she clung for dear life; he broke eye contact with me and deepened the kiss earning a few knowing looks from people dancing next to him and an exasperated sigh from Tristian as he returned with a plate of food and sat down. “I’m surprised he lasted this long.”

  “What do you mean?” My voice sounded weak, even to my own ears.

  Tristian rolled his eyes. “Romeo. You think he can really keep his dick in his pants when some of the most beautiful single girls from every powerful family in the Cosa Nostra are present? The bosses have been throwing women at him all night.” He winced. “Just never thought he’d pick Celeste out of all of them; she’s literally the worst.”

  “Agreed.” I clenched my teeth. “Then again, it’s Romeo; he always has a reason behind his fucking, right?”

  Tristian’s hand froze over his fork for a few brief seconds before he clenched it and turned to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Actually.” I licked my dry lips. “I’ve been fighting a headache all night; I just didn’t want to worry you.”

  Concern etched his features as his brows knit together. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” I smiled. “I think I’m just going to go back to the suite; besides, I have to be up at seven, so I look like the perfect Sinacore bride.”

  He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “You already are.”

  I gently pulled my hand away. “Thanks, Tristian.”

  “No need to thank me for telling the truth. Do you want me to walk you up to your room?”

  “Thank you, but I’m fine.” I grabbed my crocodile Prada clutch from the table. “I’ll see you at the altar.”

  He stood and leaned in, kissing each cheek. “I’ll be the one in the black tux next to the minister, just in case you get confused.”

  I froze as my heart slammed against my chest.

  It was like he could read my mind.

  Did he know? Assume? Was I that transparent?

  “I won’t.” I stood on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Get confused.”

  His jaw clenched just briefly before he whispered, “I know.”

  It was the first time in years that I saw a crack in Tristian’s otherwise perfect façade. All because of me. All because of his brother.

  All because of the secrets and lies, the love and the hate between the three of us.

  But Tristian knew, more than anyone, that I kept my word and that my loyalty would always be to the one who fought for me, not the one who gave me up.

  “Sweet dreams, Eden.”

  I smiled, unable to find the right words, and worried that he’d hear the hitch in my voice. Already my steps wavered as I weaved in and out of the crowd.

  I waited until I was inside the elevator.

  Until I was alone.

  Just me and my fragile heart.

  I watched the numbers light up as the elevator ascended.

  And as the distance between Romeo and myself grew, I told my heart we would be okay because we had Tristian.

  I was lucky, right?

  So damn lucky.

  And yet, two tears escaped.

  Tears of anger.

  Sadness.

  Tears he didn’t deserve in the first place.

  Tomorrow I would become Tristian Sinacore’s wife—tonight…I would drink Romeo Sinacore away.

  I exhaled in relief the minute the elevator stopped on my floor, and I found my room. I pulled my key card from my purse and tapped it against the door. It clicked open, and I could finally breathe as I kicked off my heels and went straight to the bar in my suite.

  T
he alcohol was only temporary, but it would at least numb the catastrophe of Romeo. It had been one thing after another. Like he couldn’t help but continuously bruise my heart until it bled. I’d reached my boiling point. Instead of pouring a glass, I grabbed the bottle and made my way out onto the balcony to drink away the memory of him.

  I don’t know how much time went by when I heard a knock on my door.

  Moments later, Romeo’s voice echoed through the room. “Red, open the door.”

  I shouldn’t have walked back inside.

  I shouldn’t have let my heart guide my mind.

  I shouldn’t…

  I shouldn’t…

  I shouldn’t…

  Have opened that goddamn door.

  I did.

  Now I stood in front of him, with no one else around, just our truths between us.

  I went against my heart this time, spewing, “You need to leave.”

  “Is that what you want, Eden? For me to leave?”

  I hesitated for just a second, and he kicked open the door and walked right in. Grabbing the bottle of Jack from my hand, he kicked it closed behind him. “That’s what I thought.”

  “What do you want, Romeo?”

  “You know what I fucking want.”

  I scoffed out, “Really? That’s news to me. I never know what you want because guess what? You never tell me.”

  “I don’t need to tell you, Red. You know me better than anyone.”

  “Bullshit. I don’t know you at all.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He stepped toward me, and I stepped back.

  “Where are you going, baby?”

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” In the blink of an eye, he backed me into the wall and caged me in with his arms. Whispering against my lips, “You’re my everything.”

  “Ugh.” My head fell back. “I can smell the woman’s perfume on you. Whose bed did you crawl out of?”

  Please, God, don’t say Celeste.

  “Who said it was a bed?”

  I shoved against his thick chest; he didn’t waver.

  “The only thing I know is how much I fucking hate you. Do you hear me? I fucking hate you so much.” My body shook. “I fucking hate you!” I repeated, desperately trying to make him believe it.