Page 73 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

But it’s not just Addy’s real identity that’s hit me. With it comes a far more staggering reality. One that could change everything.

Addy is half-Italian.

It’s common knowledge that Naomi Ritter was involved with a high-ranking member of the Outfit. But there’s a whispered rumor, shared only in the shadows and passed along in secrecy—a rumor I’ve always dismissed. One suggests that this high-ranking member was none other but Vito Vitelli himself.

My father’s face flashes in my mind, the way his expression hardens whenever the events of that night are mentioned, as if guarding a secret too heavy to bear.

The pieces start to fall into place, the implications chilling me to the fucking bone.

Addy could be my half-sister.

Addy’s voice, small and uncertain, breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “Dante? Are you okay?”

I face her, forcing my features into a mask of calm, then run my thumbs over her cheekbones, catching the drop of moisture hanging onto her lashes. I can’t resist raising my thumb to my mouth and licking off her tears.

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, her green eyes open and trusting despite everything she’s just learned. “You were silent for a while.”

“I’m good,” I say, reaching for her hand and linking our fingers. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Addy.”

Her hand moves to my chest, fingers tracing over my pecs and abs, sending currents of pleasure all over my skin.

“Growing up, I always felt . . . different,” she says softly. “Like I didn’t quite fit in with the other kids. I never felt comfortable in my own skin, and I thought it was because of the homeschooling.”

“Something inside you knew you didn’t belong there, tesoro.”

“Yes.” Addy’s fingers dip lower, down my abs, and then lower until she lightly circles my cock. Then her fingers trace beyond the shaft to boldly cup my balls.

“Addy . . .” I warn. “You need to rest.”

“I know. I’m just . . . admiring. Nothing more.” Her eyes flicker down, and she licks her lips. “I really like these, you know.”

Society would tell me to care. But Lord knows I don’t give a flying fuck we could be half-siblings. “I know, you sexy little minx.” I push her to her back and let my hands roam over her, too.

When I touched her earlier, my vision was clouded by lust. Now I take in her sexy form again. Her breasts are fuller than I remember, her areolas darker and more pronounced, and the deep red shade starkly contrasts with her pale skin.

“Addy? You look . . . different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

My palm cups her breast, then moves lower to her hip, slipping a thigh between hers.

“Good. So fucking good.”

“I feel different. I am different.”

I watch as she takes a deep breath, her chest rising. When she speaks again, her voice drops even lower, almost inaudible. “Speaking of, I should tell you something.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s about the time we were together at the airstrip. Things didn’t end there.”

The casual way she says it, as if commenting on the weather, makes the impact all the more powerful. My body goes still, every muscle tensing as the meaning of her words sinks in.

Without a word, my hand slides from her breast, fingers skimming over the soft skin of her stomach before coming to rest on her flat lower abdomen.

I meet Addy’s gaze, searching her eyes. She simply nods.

For a full minute, I just stare at my left hand as it spans her belly. My pinky finger brushes the short red curls on her mons, the same finger I wear my signet ring on. The crest of diamonds on the bezel of the ring sparkles in the low light, branding her as mine. A fierce sense of possession grips me, setting every nerve ending on fire.

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