Page 6 of Of Oaths and Secrets

“And since when do you listen?” I ask, taking a seat beside him.

“Since he threatened to take away my condo and Aston if I didn’t show my face.”

“Ah,” I say, understanding immediately. Money is the only thing my brother understands but on a very basic level. With all the money he’s made with the famiglia, he could buy his condo ten times over, but he’s too busy spending it on girls, alcohol, and bets. I, on the other hand, despite being the next capo, bought myself a gothic manor just outside of town. At least I can’t be threatened.

I laugh internally, wondering who would even dare to threaten me. They’d have to have a death wish.

The tension between us is palpable, as it always has been. I’m not sure why. Is it the age difference? Leo is seven years younger than me, and it’s true we never really bonded. Or is it because we’re diametrically different, both in looks and personality? We’ve never seen eye to eye, and I doubt we ever will.

“Did you rat on me? Is that why I’ve been summoned too?” Leo snaps, his suspicion evident.

“Believe what you wish, Leo—you always do.” I should have told on him. Not doing so feels like a small betrayal, and Paolo is right—maybe it’s exactly what my brother needs. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

The door opens, revealing the judge, and I frown. The presence of the judge signals that significant decisions are about to be made, and suddenly, this visit unsettles me. Is my father stepping down? I glance at my brother, who’s frowning as well. If my father asks me to take over, will he expect me to make Leo my second? There’s no way I’ll do that. Paolo is the right choice.

The judge bows his head in a respectful salute and keeps the door open as he leaves.

“You can come in,” my father's booming voice calls from the office.

As soon as we walk in, Leo all but plops himself onto a chair, slouching in it. It's something he wouldn’t normally do, but he’s made annoying our father an Olympic sport.

“You called,” he says, slouching even more.

I roll my eyes as my father’s lips press into a thin line. “Leonardo, I see you haven’t changed.”

“Thank you,” Leo replies with a smirk.

“What did you need us for?” I interject, standing by the door, cutting off whatever argument is brewing.

My father sighs, breaking the staring contest with Leo to look at me. “Yes. I’m not getting any younger, and the legacy rests with you… two.”

My brother snorts, but my father ignores him.

“The thing is, I owe Maurizio Falcone a favor from the past, and his daughter is due for marriage. She will marry one of you.”

Leo snorts again. “Well, good luck, Rafaele—you’re obviously the one needing to bite the bullet. You’re the heir. I’m merely the spare.”

“Barely,” my father mutters under his breath. “And no, neither of you have a say in this. She’s the one who gets to pick which one of you she wants to marry.”

Okay, I was not expecting that.

“No!” My brother jumps from his seat, his hands balled into fists. “I’m not getting married. Absolutely not.”

My father shrugs. “She may not choose you.”

“Come on!” Leo points at his chest. “Have you looked atme? Better yet,” he points to me, “have you looked athim?”

I hold back a sigh, feeling the inevitable comparison coming. Leo has always believed his looks were his greatest asset, and he’s not entirely wrong.

My brother, with his easy smile and sun-kissed golden hair, has always had the kind of face that turns heads. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, like he stepped out of a catalog—rugged yet boyish, with a charm that women find hard to resist. His piercing blue eyes are bright, always alight with some mischief, and his square jaw and chiseled features could have easily made him a poster boy for some romantic Hollywood blockbuster.

Then there’s me. I’ve always been the brooding one, with black, unruly hair and a face that’s all sharp angles and intensity. My deep-set eyes are dark and often shadowed by a seriousness that seems to unsettle people, and my nose, slightly crookedfrom a fight years ago, adds to the roughness of my appearance. My build is tall and lean, but not in the same way as Leo’s. Where he’s all easygoing athleticism, I’m more of a solid, intimidating presence with a physique honed by years of discipline and training rather than casual workouts. Some might say I have a face that speaks of danger, a face that doesn’t invite easy conversation or casual flirtation.

But I’m not interested in charming anyone. My looks have never been my focus, and I’ve never needed to rely on them. I’ve always known that my strength lies elsewhere—in my mind, in my resolve, in my ability to get things done.

I meet Leo’s gaze evenly. “Thank you, brother.”

“No offense, of course,” he adds, but he doesn’t care. That much is clear.

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