The First Sin (Sins of the Past Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  “I miss it,” she said, somewhat saddened. “I loved being part of all this. Now you shut me out.”

  “I miss it, too. But you have to stay clean. I’m dirty enough for the both of us. I can’t have someone taking what belongs to me.”

  “No one and nothing could ever take me away from you.”

  If only she’d known how much she would live to regret those words.

  I brought her free hand up to my mouth and kissed her, staring into her eyes. The thought of losing her sliced into my chest. She was only mine for however long I could keep her.

  I dropped Gia’s hand and led her to the dance floor.

  She placed the empty glass on a catering tray and molded herself to me. “Thank you, Angelo.” Gia slid her hands up my chest and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  I lifted her up, so she was standing on the tips of my dress shoes and held her with her face in the crook of my neck. She was so petite compared to my six feet three inches. I was over a foot taller than her.

  “I haven’t done anything worth thanking me.”

  “This dance. This night. For once, we get to pretend like we’re an average couple doing everyday things together.”

  I leaned my forehead against hers, slowly turning us in circles. “We could never be average.”

  She laughed. “Nope, we’re too fucked up for that. At least I got four years of college and the last two years of law school with you.”

  We were one year away from graduating law school together. After making it this far, I wasn’t about to let Gia do anything to jeopardize her future. I did everything I said I would, college and all. Even though I didn’t need a degree to do my current job, I would need one for when I took over as the family advisor. I’d be the person our guys called when they needed help with the law.

  Gia looked up at me and ran her hand down my arm. “I love you in a suit, but I hate that you look like one of them.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to gaze at my father and brothers who were watching us like hawks. Every move we made, they were there, constantly reminding me I was their property. I told Gia she was mine every time I fucked her. But I belonged to them more than her. We both knew it. There was only one way out of my family. This was the path of least resistance, one that also gave me Gia at the same time.

  I laughed at her comment. “That’s because I am one of them.”

  “You know what I mean, Lo.”

  Gia almost never called me Lo. It was what my friends and family called me on the street.

  My nostrils flared. I was sick of having this conversation. “You’re either in, or you’re out,” I told her. “And since I’ve already claimed you, there’s no turning back. I would kill anyone who got in my way to find you. Leaving this life would mean death for both of us.”

  “Who said I’m going anywhere?” She dragged her fingers along my neck, causing the hairs to stand at attention. “When I gave you my heart, there was only one condition. Don’t break it.”

  “That’s a promise I can keep.”

  “I should care that you’re a bad man hiding behind the mask of the good man I love,” she admitted. “But you are equal parts mine. I love you down to the darkest part of your soul. There’s nothing you could do to hurt me other than break my heart, something I know you’d never do on purpose.”

  “Never, G. My word is my bond.”

  “When we get married, I want to have our wedding reception here.” She glanced up at the ceiling, with its old-fashioned crown molding and intricate patterns. A massive chandelier was hanging above our heads, and she stared at the lights as she spoke. “This place is gorgeous.”

  “You can have whatever you want.” I pressed my lips to hers and held her tighter. “Everything I have is yours.”

  The song ended, and I stopped moving with Gia still crushing my toes with her heeled shoes. “What do you want to do now, beautiful?”

  “I was thinking we could explore,” she said, her voice somewhat hopeful. “Maybe find someplace more private. We haven’t had as much time together lately with your brothers always calling and our assignments being such a pain in the ass.” She moved her hands to my shoulders and down my chest until she had my tie in her hands. “I need to feel you.”

  The corners of my mouth turned up into a devious grin. “That’s my girl.”

  I led her out of the stuffy banquet hall and into a long hallway. The old mansion on the outskirts of Philadelphia was renovated to accommodate twenty event rooms, with a few suites and guest rooms on the upper floors.

  I squeezed her hand tighter and escorted her through the mansion until I found a door which opened to a wine cellar. We took the stairs and combed through the dimly lit basement. In the back corner, the furthest away from the entrance, we found a barricade of casks, stacked almost up to the ceiling, creating a wall. It was the closest we would have to privacy if someone were to come downstairs.

  “Over here.” I steered her into the small alcove, pressed her back against a wooden cask, and lifted her up in the process. “This is perfect.”

  Gia hooked her legs around me, digging her heels into my ass, and smiled. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  The wine cellar was cold. She shivered, and I held her tight, with my hands pressed against her back, taking away the chill with my warmth. Through the smell of the fruity aromas that filled my nostrils, I caught a hint of her strawberry lip balm as her lips parted for me.

  Gia’s breath caught in her throat when I moved my hands up her bare arms. I stroked her jaw with my thumb, and her entire body trembled in the process.

  “Mi bella donna,” I said to her in Italian, a term of endearment that meant my beautiful woman.

  When I first used those words, she wasn’t a woman yet, not even close. But I always made her feel like one because Gia was special. Even when we were kids, I knew she was the one. She belonged to me long before she brushed her lips against mine. I owned every part of her—mind, body, and soul.

  “Angelo,” she whispered, staring into my eyes, and shoved her hand through my wavy black hair. “Cuore mio.”

  I was her heart, as she was mine, that much was true. For most of my life, I was in love with Gianna Carlini. She was my one constant. Born into families with too much wealth and power, we were doomed from the start. A simple fact which made me love her more. That meant our time was more precious than others. We never wasted a moment we spent together.

  I pushed up her dress with the violent passion she craved, sliding her panties to the side. She unzipped my pants and gave my cock a few strokes, before I thrust inside her wetness, filling her at once.

  She moaned against my lips.

  I took.

  She gave.

  “You’re mine,” I whispered. “Forever. Always.” Then I kissed her, claiming every part of her until my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  My life was never mine. It belonged to the people who never left me the fuck alone. How could I give something away that was never mine to give? But she had my heart. No one but Gia had the power to crush it.

  Chapter Five

  Angelo

  “Get in the car,” Pete growled at me through the open window of the Mercedes, the same CLS 550 our father had bought each of us for Christmas.

  Marco parked out front of the mansion where I’d just fucked Gia in the basement, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Pete was next to Marco in the passenger seat, his arm rested on the ledge of the open window with his usual scowl on his lips.

  I pulled on the handle and got inside the car. “What’s the fucking rush?”

  “Where were you?” Marco followed the circular driveway, his eyes focused on me in the rearview mirror, as he made his way off the property. “I called you three times before you answered.”

  “I was busy,” I spat back.

  “Busy doing what?” Pete asked.

  I folded my arms across my chest and sank into the leather, staring out the window. “Does it matter? I’m here n
ow.”

  “Probably off fucking his girl,” Marco said with an attitude.

  “Don’t hate on me just because you two can’t get pussy without paying for it.”

  “Can you believe this guy?” Marco looked at Pete and laughed.

  “I’m not the one stuffing my dick in coked up strippers,” I countered.

  Pete glanced over his shoulder at me and smirked. “If I wanted your girl, I could have her. I’d fucking take her, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do about it.”

  I grabbed the back of the headrest and shook it. “Fuck you! Stay the fuck away from Gia.”

  “That girl will be the death of you,” Marco said, turning onto the highway.

  “We can’t afford to have weaknesses in this family,” Pete said with his back turned to me. “Gia is your biggest weakness. Everyone knows it. You should cut ties with her before she gets hurt. She’s a councilman’s daughter now. That makes her an even bigger target.”

  This time, I punched the back of his headrest. “Don’t fucking threaten me or my girl, or I’ll slit your fucking throat, you cocksucker.”

  Pete moved so fast, clutching my wrist between his fingers. “Shit is getting messy, kid. Don’t think for one second there won’t be casualties in this war we’ve got going on with North Jersey and Enzo’s crew.”

  I almost spit in his face. Instead, I pulled my arm from his and sat back. “Gia has nothing to do with that part of my life.”

  “This is your life, Angelo, which makes your girl part of it, too. Either learn to accept it or do the right thing and let her go.”

  Gia could have a real life without me, the one she deserves.

  “There’s a reason we fuck strippers,” Marco said. “You’d be smart to do the same.”

  None of us spoke another word until we reached a crack house in North Philly. Marco parked in an alleyway and turned off the engine.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked my brothers. “You guys got a drug problem I don’t know about?”

  “Nope,” Marco opened his door. “We have another job for you.”

  “Great,” I muttered with zero enthusiasm. “What’s next? Is Dad turning me into a drug mule?”

  We got out of the car, neither of them acknowledging my questions. My brothers were such assholes I often wondered how we shared the same DNA. Marco was the nicer of the two, but when he was around Pete, he was all business. There were two sides to Marco Morelli. Pete only had the one.

  A few skinny, strung-out looking girls stumbled out of the house with cigarettes in their mouths. One girl walked over to Pete and tried to touch his arm. He swatted her away before she could get close enough.

  “Hey, you got any H?” She took a long drag from her cigarette and then blew the smoke in Pete’s face.

  “Go find someone to else blow for a hit.” His mouth twisted in disgust but he never stopped walking. “Fucking dirty whore,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Jerk,” the girl yelled, and Pete smiled.

  It was the first real smile I’d seen on his face in a while. The only time he looked happy was when he was carving someone into a pumpkin or getting his dick sucked, and even then, I wasn’t sure what he liked more—sex or choking girls with his cock. He liked killing people. The only thing that really got my brother off was violence, especially when he was the one inflicting the pain.

  Once inside the dilapidated house, I almost vomited from the overwhelming stench. I thought the kill room had a sickening smell, but it was nothing compared to the mixture of rotting food, old bong water, sweat, unwashed bodies, and jizz. My stomach lurched as we moved past the nasty people on the floor. Some of the druggies laid on the torn, stained shag carpet, while others were either passed out on mattresses or fucking on them. The sight was appalling. Drugs were my family’s biggest moneymaker, but they were never my thing. Gia was enough of a high for me.

  I followed my brothers through the dark, dank house wondering why the fuck we were here. A man in his late twenties tried to grab my foot. I kicked him away from me with the tip of my dress shoe. My jaw clenched, still pissed I had to leave Gia at her father’s party for this shit.

  Marco stopped first, his hand held out in front of Pete to block our path. “That’s him.” He nodded at a man who reminded me of someone I knew.

  I squinted to get a better look realizing I knew him, except he looked unrecognizable. The last time I saw Antonio Mancuso was when we played on the varsity basketball team together in high school. Now, he looked like Leonardo DiCaprio from The Basketball Diaries. Antonio was the eldest son of Enzo Mancuso, a Capo who worked under my father. The same Capo who was waging war against my family.

  Pete pointed at Antonio. “Get his sorry ass off the floor and into the trunk.”

  He was talking to me, which was evident when Marco didn’t move a muscle. I had to do all the bitch work for them. It was how I earned my place in the family. My brothers had to do the same years before I was introduced to the organization. My dad showed them the ropes, made it even harder on them than they were on me. I was content with doing the stupid shit my older brothers didn’t want to do. But something about this situation was off.

  I crouched down in front of Antonio and attempted to lift him over my shoulder. Moving a drug addict was no different than lifting a dead body. I wasn’t even sure if Antonio was alive. One of his eyes was open, the other rolled into the back of his head.

  At least you couldn’t kill someone who was already dead.

  I looked up at my brothers. “Can you give me a hand?”

  Marco moved to help me while shithead crossed his arms over his chest and waited for us to finish. That motherfucker wasn’t lifting a finger for nobody. As far as Pete was concerned, he’d already paid his dues. He was only here because my father was forcing him to show me the ropes.

  After years of doing his bidding, I still had to shadow my brothers. The old man didn’t trust me enough to make the hard decisions on my own.

  With Marco’s help, I was able to drag Antonio outside to the car. Pete popped the trunk and flattened the plastic tarps which covered the interior. He stepped back for Marco and me to hoist Antonio up and into the trunk, which was no easy feat. Even though he’d lost some weight, Antonio was around the same height as me. His cheeks were sunken in, his skin pockmarked from doing so many drugs.

  We got in the car. Marco drove in silence until we reached one of the new housing developments under the supervision of Enzo Mancuso. I was so confused.

  Why were we dumping Antonio’s body at the site his father managed?

  Then, it hit me. This was payback for whatever Enzo was plotting against us. My brothers hadn’t filled me in on all the details. They had said it was on a need-to-know basis.

  Marco helped me unload Antonio’s body. We dumped him in front of the metal gate, the three of us standing over his body. The headlights from the car provided enough light for me to gain a better look at Antonio’s face. He was sickly, no longer the person I once knew from around the neighborhood.

  “What are we doing?” I looked to Pete for the answer. “Leaving him here for Enzo to find him?”

  Antonio coughed and then rolled onto his side.

  “Fuck.” Marco shoved a hand through his dark, wavy hair and frowned. “He’s still alive.”

  “Good thing we got enough H to kill a horse,” Pete said with a wicked grin.

  What a sick fucker.

  Pete shoved his hand into his pocket to retrieve a syringe. He handed it to me without any instructions. It was obvious he wanted me to finish the job. Gia would be sick to her stomach if she knew what I was about to do.

  I dropped to the ground, balancing myself on the balls of my feet, and removed the cap from the syringe. My hand trembled from the needle clutched between my fingers almost pricking my skin with the toxins inside. Bile rose up from the back of my throat, suffocating me. I had only killed a few men, all of them deserving of the bullet I’d buried in their sku
lls. Torture was different. I was giving those men a chance to beg for mercy. Antonio wasn’t even awake enough to know he was about to die. Maybe it was for the best.

  Enzo deserved a lot worse for going behind our backs to start a war against my family. He was one of my father’s oldest friends. But it didn’t make the situation any easier to swallow. Not every kill was the same, even though I tried to tell myself they were all faceless men who’d earned the punishment to match their crimes. I wasn’t the judge and jury. I didn’t make the decisions—Pete did. I was nothing more than this man’s executioner.

  I hovered over Antonio’s limp body. Staring down at him, I wished his father had come to one of us before he went behind our backs to the boss in North Jersey.

  “Just do it,” Pete growled, standing over me with his hands on his hips. “Stop acting like a pussy. This is business, Angelo, and Enzo fucked with our business. He would have killed himself with the drugs anyway. You’re only saving him the pain of having to man up and do it himself.”

  I slipped the cap back onto the needle and stood up to face-off with my older brothers, holding out the heroin to Pete. “You do it then if it’s so easy for you.”

  Pete had no feelings—just like my father. When it came to death, Pete never blinked or hesitated, completely desensitized to the sight of brain matter and blood. His hands were always steady and careful like a surgeon in the operating room. I wasn’t soft, not even close, but when it came to murdering people, it was my least favorite part of being a Morelli. Death was nothing more than a means to an end. And crime was part of the very fabric of our existence.

  “What do you think Dad will say about his bitch-ass son when I tell him you couldn’t finish the job?” Pete pushed his dark wavy hair off his forehead and smirked.

  I wanted to lay his ass out so bad. My father had groomed Pete to take over from him. It’d taken my father most of his life to place our family in this position of power. So, I had to separate my personal feelings from business and do what was necessary. I had to act like a Morelli.