Page 73 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“Then how can he possibly think that Conor can run things?” I clench my hands into fists. “Conor said I’d never be boss, that Dad’s never giving that role to me. What if he’s right? After everything I’ve done, could my father really fuck me like that and put that asshole in charge? I could have let you kill him.”

“And I would have,” Matteo says. “In a heartbeat. Men like Conor are liabilities. But he’s your brother and you said no. He’s also high as fuck. Let me ask you something.”

“You can ask, but there’s no guarantee I’ll answer.”

“Has he done this before?”

“No.” There have been fights and arguments but… “That was something new. I’ve seen Conor in most states, but that…that was different.”

“Conor is digging his own grave,” Matteo says darkly. “So far into the ground that he’s going to hit the Earth’s core. But this is, as I said, a game. And it’s a man’s game whether you like it or not. You have to play by the rules, Heaven.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Got that, loud and clear. And yet you are. You don’t want to be here with me and you fight the entire time, but you understand your role and the sacrifices you need to make. You running your mouth to Declan makes you look bad, not Conor. It tells your father you can’t handle dissent in the field; worse, that you can’t handle personal shit with your brother.” He runs a hand through his hair and a thick lock falls over one of his eyes. My fingers itch to push it back, to run down the side of his face, to stroke the back of his neck and?—

No. I don’t want that at all. I clench my hands harder, the pain from my cut bringing me back down. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yes,” he says. “It is. And it’s how things are done. You go in there complaining?—”

“Not complaining, informing him.”

“Complaining is what it will seem like, Heaven. What’s that Irish saying about wisdom and knowing what you can and can’t change?”

I stare at him. “God grant me the serenity to change the things I can, accept the things I can’t, and the wisdom to know the difference?”

“That.”

“I might be Irish Catholic, but I’m not religious?—”

“For fuck’s sake,amore mio, I’m trying to tell you something. Understand that at its core and you’ll be able to take what’s yours.”

My heart lurches. “Who are you and what have you done with Matteo?”

“Maybe it’s you, Heaven. And you know I’m right. Besides, we’re going to be married. I want success just as much as you do.”

Things have shifted and I don’t know what to do with it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say what happened in there cracked something open in Matteo, and maybe, just maybe there’s a glimmer of something good. Like this, I could learn to not hate him. I’m already attracted to him, but maybe he isn’t such a sleaze. And maybe I can find a way to take something pleasurable from this forced union.

And he’s right. I know it. Anything I tell Dad will be twisted by Conor, who won’t emerge until he’s no longer on his bender. And I’ll look hysterical. Fuck.

“Conor expects you to run right to Declan. Don’t do it. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Guys like Conor always fall hard if you lead them to the edge of the cliff.”

“Okay.” I swallow hard. “Let’s go home.”

“Home,” he says, staring at me. “That sounds good.”

He starts the car and heads down 11thAvenue.

When we finally pull up near his loft in SoHo, Matteo eyes me. “Heaven, you’re an asset to your family. Conor’s full of shit. He didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, and pretty soon, it won’t matter anyway.”

I frown. That’s the second time he’s said something off. “Why do you keep saying that stuff? You were hired to keep us safe from the cartel. But you keep talking like there’s something else going on.”

Matteo’s back stiffens and his jaw tightens. “No. Guys like Conor can’t be saved. They always fall because they’re never smart enough to learn from their mistakes. They just keep making new ones that are more dangerous than the last ones.”

“That’s not it.”

“Don’t read into things that aren’t there, Heaven.” He gets out of the car and comes to my side, holding out his hand as I open the door.

I ignore it. “Or maybe I’m seeing stuff you don’t want me to know.”

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