Page 32 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“What happened?” He nods at my wrapped wrist. “You were at the club last night, so I don’t think you were beating off. Or were you?”

I cast him a long look. Roman’s taken to New York life and American food like it’s his mission to blend here in the States. This includes, it seems, disregarding tradition.

“You might be my brother, Roman,” I say, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t dole out punishment for insubordination to your boss when needed.”

He places the cup on a knee and raises his brows, overlong locks of curling black hair falling in his eyes. “That bad?”

“Your punishment or the upcoming arrangement?”

He snorts out a laugh that’s edged with uncertainty. “You’re not going to punish me. I’m your favorite. I meant your slice of Heaven.”

“Everything,” I say, flexing and clenching my fist one more time, “is going perfectly.” I pause. “Or will.”

“So, you did her and she fell under the Villani spell?”

“Not your business.”

“This is family business. I think?—”

“I’m not asking for your opinion, Roman. Family business means I’m in charge.”

That’s the general line. But my plans are bigger, deeper, more complicated and way more deadly than the cards I’ve shown, even to my own brother.

“You said a lot is riding on this union. You always say to keep things simple, that complications of the homemade kind ruin things. And…” He stops and gives me a long, shrewd look. “They came to the club. Heaven and her brother.”

“I was there.”

“Matty—”

“Romo. I also say that when something unexpected comes up and you know it’s going to work, do it.”

He breathes out, the laughter gone. “We have a chunk of Manhattan. We keep working how we are, we can spread across the other strongholds of the United States in about five years. You have a plan and I understand the concept, if not the entirety, of your reasoning. But this is the Irish mafia you’re fucking with. I did my research, and the Mulligans don’t make this kind of business deal. They don’t have to. Yet…you somehow did it. And?—”

“Romo,” I say his nickname quietly and he ignores the warning.

“I’m just saying I know we own sex clubs and she was there and you were there and things happen, but maybe keeping it in your pants might have been smarter in this case. Okay, okay, not in your pants, but maybe sticking it in someone not named Heaven Mulligan would def?—”

“You know nothing, so shut the fuck up.” I place my hand on the arm of the club chair. “Or you won’t like your new job. Christ, you’re a real smartass.”

“It’s one of my more endearing qualities, what can I say?” He grins at me and takes a swallow of his coffee, its scent winding around me. “And I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.”

He sighs. “Dad appointed you the head of the family, but I’m still your brother, and?—”

“Do not say voice of reason, or I’ll demote you before you can take another sip of that coffee.”

Roman goes to say something, but he studies me a moment and nods. My brothers aren’t stupid, and Roman might sometimes think life is there for his amusement, but he’s also a Villani underneath. “Didyou fuck her?”

“And if I did?”

“Matteo, you won’t tell us the details of this grand plan I know is brewing, but…” He takes a breath. “It hinges on the Mulligans.”

He’s got no idea about the long and complicated roots of this. No one does. It’s better that way. The fewer who know, the less chance there is of things getting fucked up, and the less chance of my family being caught in the middle.

I’m going to win.

But if there’s anything approaching an Achilles heel, it’s family. Lucky for me, that goes for every other damn player in this game.

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