Page 2 of Violent Delights

The silence after his words is ominous, and then the door squeaks and a soft female voice says, “Cass… You should join me.” There’s no doubt this is his plaything for the night. I know my cousin doesn’t do love. He enjoys himself as a playboy of the mafia, but there’s violence to his actions that scares me. And I wonder deep down if these women know what he’s truly like.

Part One

First Love

Chapter 1

Lelia

Ihaven’t thought about anyone or anything else since the party. If my father knew what was going on inside my mind, he would probably have me murdered. I can’t tell a soul about my feelings. I wanted to run away the moment I saw his face. The second his lips touched mine in that tender kiss, I knew my heart had been stolen.

He may be my mortal enemy, but there was nothing to hide the butterflies he awakened in my stomach. I’ve met boys before. Men who want my hand in marriage have sauntered through the doors of my family’s estate time and time again, but nobody has ever made me feel like Domenico.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him. I knew there was a son living next door, the only son of the Montesano family, but he’s been elusive. He didn’t attend the local schools, and I knew he wasn’t one of the boys who would race around the town in a fancy car. It’s strange because the rest of the Montesano clan tend to show off their wealth, parading it around, making sure the rest of us know exactly who they are.

But he’s different.

And now that I know what he’s like, what his lips taste like, I can’t get him out of my mind. Those hazel eyes consume mythoughts as I make my way down to breakfast. The house is alive with staff rushing around, tidying up after the party last night.

I pray I don’t have to talk to anyone, but the moment I step into the dining room, I find my father at the head of the table. He looks up as I walk in and offers me one of his loving smiles. He may be a tyrant and want to destroy his enemies, but when he looks at me, there’s a calmness and affection to his expression.

“Morning, Papa,” I greet him as I lean in to press a kiss to his wrinkled cheek. Even though he’s notthatold, there are tiny lines that already mar his face. Perhaps it’s the stress of running an organized crime family all these years.

“My angel,” he says in that gruff tone I’ve come to love. “Today, I want you to spend the day in the office with me. There’s a lot for you to learn, and the sooner you get started, the better.”

“But I have?—”

“Please, Lelia,” he pleads with me.

I’ve never seen my father weak or emotional. He’s always been strong, like the pillars that hold up the enormous balcony that stretches the length of our home.

“Okay.” I nod, unsure of why he’s acting so strange this morning.

“Last night,” he starts with a sigh, “when we were celebrating your birthday, I got intel that we were in the company of our enemies.”

My heart stutters at his words. He knows. He must know. Shit.

“I heard we had the Montesano scum here, and even though I dealt with it, had the men throw them out of our home, I’m worried they’ll come for you.”

It feels as if I’m frozen because I can’t continue pouring my coffee, or even settling in to eat my breakfast. I look at my father then, forcing myself to feign a shocked expression.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Papa,” I tell him. “I didn’t even notice if there was a scuffle at the party. It was such a lovely evening.” As much as I feel sick lying to him, or at least not telling him the entire truth, I know I have to if it means keeping Domenico safe.

“It was a lovely evening,” Papa agrees with a nod, then his eyes crinkle when he smiles at me. It’s not often my father smiles, but seeing it now, I’m thankful he’s accepted my words as the truth. “I know you don’t really want to take over the organization, but I feel you need to. There are so many important things that have been passed down through the generations of Vitale, and you are an important part of this family. I want you to be able to step into my shoes when and if need be.”

In this home, death is spoken about as if it were something to get used to and it never made sense to me. Losing someone you love and moving on as if nothing had happened is strange because there should be mourning, sadness, grief. But the way my father has always spoken about the moment I’m meant to take over if he were to be killed, or if he just passed on from natural causes, has always been as natural as talking about the sky outside. There’s no emotion in his words, but there’s a tension that shudders through him when he looks at me. And I wonder if he just doesn’t believe I could do it.

“You’re the only one I trust to do it, my angel,” he tells me as he watches me for a reaction. When he first brought it up a while ago, I burst into tears. I was ten. Now I’m eighteen and I’ve become accustomed to his ramblings about death.

The heavy burden he’s placing on my shoulders is enough to turn any sane person mad. But I can’t show him my fear. I also can’t allow him to see the pain in my heart, knowing I’m going to have to fight against Domenico.

It sounds stupid as I think about it. I’m not in love with the guy, but there’s a connection there. It feels as if I’ve been tethered to him.

“I know,” I whisper my reply to my father, but I can’t meet his eyes because I’m afraid he’ll read what’s written all over my face. I don’t want to disappoint him, and I don’t want to make him angry either. Getting on the wrong side of him is not a good thing to do. I have seen what happens to people who disobey Papa.

There’s a smile on his face. One I’ve only ever seen when he talked about me taking over the family business. I never saw something like that for myself. At my age, I should be out partying with friends, not considering the torture chambers in our basement for those who would go against me one day.

And there are many of those. Men who are more willing to kill me than killforme.

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