Page 46 of His Vicious Desire

It’s not fair the way Sandro wants it both ways.The women he dates wear half the clothes I do, yet I’m constantly told to cover up.There’s also the way he keeps me away from the Outfit most of the time and uses me whenever it benefits him.

He planned on going with his latest woman of the week, except she canceled at the last minute.The problem was that it was ala familiaevent, and if he went alone, people would start to talk about him needing to get married again to be seen as more stable.A few months ago, the most amazing thing happened: Sandro was given the official title of Luca’s number two.

For years, Luca believed his father was Al Toro.Luca’s mother and Al knew the truth but never told him.When the Don of the Outfit died a few months ago, Luca found out the truth.His father was a capo in the Outfit in Chicago by the name of Tony Sabatini.He also found out he had a brother, Dominic.

With the Don’s death, Dominic became underboss to the new Don.Once Luca shared he didn’t fully trust in his number two and only put up with him because Chicago told him to, Dominic fixed things so Sandro could be Luca’s number two, with more than Luca and Sandro knowing it.

The only problem with his change of status is that it came with more eyes on him.If he went with me, he could put off the talk as I still needed him.At the same time, he didn’t like me going to the events and people approaching him about setting me up in an arranged marriage with their sons or even themselves.

Since I’m curious about it and want to see the wedding of one of the top members, I don’t dare give Sandro an excuse for leaving me at home.I heard the budget was more than a million dollars.It’s an older member in his fifties getting married to a twenty-one-year-old woman, five years younger than his youngest daughter.The gossip about it has been raging for the last month.

I give in and go with the pink and blue floral maxi dress I wore for my graduation more than a year ago.It’s a little tight.Damn it.I managed to get to a size sixteen for graduation.In the last eight months, I kept Gaetano’s assurances in the back of my mind and did not let myself freak out when I noticed my weight going up.Oh my god, even my breasts have gone up a cup size.I can’t zip it up, not even a little.

Frustrated and fighting back tears, I put on a robe and go back out into the living room.“I’m not going.I’m too fat.The blue dress is the only thing that fits for a wedding.And you think it’s too short?—”

“Hey, it’s okay.Don’t cry.Don’t say that.You’re not fat.Wear the dress.I’m your brother.And I don’t want to deal with all the men looking at you.You look good in the blue one.That was my only problem with it.”His hand goes under my chin, and he swipes at my tears with his pocket square.“I’m sorry, I’m not good with this whole you growing up thing.You’re my little sister, and I worry about you.Ignore me.”

All I want is five hours of shopping so I can pick out the perfect dress.Except I don’t have it.So it’s either this dress or nothing.“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

Gaetano

I fight back a yawn.This is the last damn place I want to be.However, to turn down the invitation would be an insult to Paolo Tomasi.Tomasi was preening about trapping the girl into marriage with him.The man was determined to get a son after divorcing his wife of twenty-five years, who had only given him six girls.

Checking my watch, I begin the countdown to how soon before I can get the fuck out of here.The service will probably run a half hour to an hour, and then I’m making an appearance at the reception, an hour tops.After that, I don’t give a fuck who I’m offending, I’m out of here.

While a priest is conducting the service, we’re at the hotel on the strip in the main ballroom, which has been split into two rooms.This room for the ceremony and the reception is in the room next door.The place is filling up fast with made men coming all the way from Chicago to pay their respects.

Dario appears with a tiny blonde on his arm.Spotting me, he makes his way toward me.The tiny blonde is ahead of him, which would mean she would sit next to me instead of him—I shake my head.He sighs, moving to sit between me and his date.She offers me a wary smile and a glimpse of her tits in a dress too low-cut for a wedding.I don’t acknowledge her.

“This is going to be interesting.I heard the mom is trying to talk her into her dress.She’s crying and tried to pull the fire alarm.”Dario whispers to me.

I shake my head.“Her parents are broke.If she doesn’t marry him, her father is dead.Tomasi knew what he was doing, getting the father into debt with him.Apparently, he’s had his eye on her for months.She’s got four brothers, and she’s the only girl.All Tomasi cares about is having a son.”

My eyes are on the door when Bianca comes through it.A curse word slips out of me without permission.

“Damn, she’s grown up some.”

I flash him a look of warning and bite out.“Stay the fuck away from her.”

Sandro sees me and nods.Since Sandro is Luca’s right hand now, there’s no sitting in the back for him.He takes his place at Luca’s side in the row behind Tomasi’s family.I want to send my fist into the eyes of every man in here who is staring at Bianca.That dress is too fucking short and hugs her ass like a caress.Her legs are on display, and fucking hell, if I didn’t know her breasts were real, I wouldn’t believe they are from how high and firm they are beneath the silky blue dress she’s wearing.

Christ.What the hell is Sandro doing letting her wear that fucking dress?I’m grinding my teeth so hard my jaw aches.

She turns and meets my eyes.The smile she gives me is small and hopeful.I don’t dare return it, but I can’t look away.

“What the hell is that?”Dario hisses at me.

I shrug like I don’t know exactly the question he’s asking, and check my watch for the tenth time since I walked through the door.“What are you talking about?”

“Jesus, Gaetano.You said you didn’t want to fuck her.”

Pissed he could see it, I meet his eyes and lie my ass off.“No, I do not,” I respond in Spanish.For fuck’s sake, he said that too fucking loud.Spanish isn’t a huge jump from Italian—there are enough words that are about the same, but anything besides English is better.Especially when talking about something that could get me killed.In Spanish.“Drop it, Dario.”

His exhale of air is low.“Damn it?—”

The words are lost as the wedding march music begins playing.

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