Page 39 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

I use the brush to sweep the stairs, and thescent of frying onion and garlic fills the air as Antonio makes something tosatisfy our bellies. The first time we went into hiding was after pop died whenMario’s grip on the family wasn’t strong enough, and other families werecircling like vultures. I remember him lying next to me, hands behind his head,telling me that going to the mattresses was a tradition. A chance for men to bemen.

If he could see us now, he’d turn in hisgrave.

The ache of missing him never fades. Thememory of his blank face staring up from the floor of Carlo’s club, his blueeyes fixed to the ceiling, glassy and dead, will never leave me. The sound ofAntonio’s cry and Luca’s wounded gasps for breath still come to me as fresh asif it happened yesterday. Worse, the pounding blood in my ears and my own harshbreaths as my heart felt like it had been skewered.

Aemelia follows behind me, wiping the finelayer of dust I leave behind. “I bet you never thought you’d be cleaning withthe Venturis,” I tease, flashing her a smirk.

“Why does that sound like a Netflix show?”

I laugh. “Would you watch it?”

“There’s a lot of money to be made inshirtless cleaning,” she says. “Just saying.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “You’re funny,” Itell her, then, just to push her buttons a little, I add, “Since my brothermade you come.”

I expect her to blush, to get flustered, butshe just seems amused, and my dick perks up in response. “He has a clevertongue, but not that clever. My humor is my own.”

“You ready to come to bed with me?”

She frowns at my quick shift in theconversation, flushing a little at my bravado.

“To put sheets on those old mattresses.”

Biting back another smile, she brushes past meon the stairs. “Now there’s a proposition I can get behind.”

***

Antonio takes food out to the men guarding thehouse, ensuring they take turns to eat. The cool night air blows in through thebackdoor, but the men barely seem to notice, exchanging a few quiet wordsbefore he heads back inside, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, bracedunder the weight of the night’s tension.

Inside, Luca washes the dust from his hands atthe kitchen sink, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room. It’s still a shithole,but it’s as clean as we can make it. He even vacuumed the twenty-year-oldcouches, an effort that hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Aemelia, who seems to have worked up anappetite from cleaning, doesn’t hold back as she digs into her plate. “Oh mygod. So good.” she groans.

“He learned it all from our mama,” I tell her.“She’s old school.”

“Shouldn’t this have been passed to Rosita?”she asks.

“Our grandfather was a chef,” Antonioexplains. “Mama sees cooking as a life skill.”

“So Luca and Alexis can cook like this, too?”

Antonio pauses serving the food to smirk. “Theycan cook, but not like this.”

She licks her lips. “You promised me therecipe,” she says.

Luca tuts, shaking his head in mockdisappointment. “I didn’t know Antonio was so easy with our family secrets.What else has he told you?”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an underlyingedge to it—smooth as silk but sharp enough to cut. He’s watching her closely,his expression unreadable. He’s worried. Worried that Aemelia is burrowingunder Antonio’s skin in a way none of us anticipated. Worried she’ll find aweak spot and take advantage.

She tilts her head, cat-like, a knowing littlesmile curving her lips. “That’s for me to know.”

There’s a beat of strained silence as Antonioand Luca exchange an intense look. The way Antonio squares his shoulders justslightly and Luca presses his lips together for the briefest second beforetaking another bite, tells a story.

In the end, Luca leans back in his chair,draping an arm over its back. “A recipe has to be earned,gattina. How do you propose toearn it?”

Her gaze flits between us, her fingers toyingwith the stem of her fork. Maybe Luca didn’t realize how his words would sound,or maybe he did. He enjoys playing with people, leading them through a mazewhen a straight line would do. She arches a brow. “The cleaning wasn’t enough.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Cleaning’s a goodstart, but maybeyoushould tell ussome secrets.”

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