Page 53 of Vicious Heir

That man spanked the hell out of me.

I shift slightly, turning to face him. He’s breathing slowly and steadily. I study the line of his jaw, the turn of his nose. He’s absurdly beautiful and masculine. I bite my lip and feel a little sore spot there from where he made me bleed.

The fucking psycho.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers. I nearly yelp in surprise.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

His eyes open and he glances at me. “You’re staring at me.”

“I am not. I’m just trying to get comfortable. I just happen to sleep better on this side.”

“For some strange reason, I don’t believe you at all.”

God, what a frustrating asshole. We fall into silence again. He closes his eyes, but now I know he’s not actually asleep.

My annoyance subsides, and curiosity takes over. I think about what Kennedy said earlier at the bar, and I can’t help myself. It’s a dangerous subject, but I cross the line anyway.

“Adriano? Can I ask you something?”

He lets out a breath. “Go ahead.”

“It’s about your dad.”

I feel him tense. He always reacts like this when the subject of his father gets mentioned. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, I haven’t really met him yet. Do you think we could do that? Since we live in the same house?”

“He has his own wing. And he’s sick most of the time.”

“Sick with what?” I probably shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it.

Adriano stares at the ceiling. I’m tempted to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who responds well to physical comfort. I’m afraid he’ll just pull away if I do.

“My father was the strongest man I’ve ever known,” he says, not looking at me. “He was smart too. Smartest bastard in the city. It’s how the Marino Famiglia has gotten so big and powerful over the years. Dad was relentless and ruthless. That’s why it’sso hard, seeing him the way he is now.” He glances at me. This must be hard to talk about, but his face shows none of that. “My father’s got dementia. It’s in the late stages now. He hasn’t been doing well for a long time, and the doctors say they don’t know how much time he has left. More often than not, he thinks I’m his brother. At this point, we’re just making his final hours as comfortable as we can.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, letting that sink in. I remember what it felt like to lose my parents. The deep, horrible hole I sank into afterward. How the world seemed dim and strange, like I was floating over a black canyon with nothing underneath me but faith and terror. That was the beginning of the end of my life. I know what Adriano’s feeling, at least a little bit. And it’s terrible.

Except back then, I hated them, and I loved them just as much. My parents ruined my family. They were also loving, kind, and gentle. I watched them spiral into addiction, and it took them both away from me. They also ripped what was left of our name into shreds on their way out. I hate them, and I love them just as much. That’s a contradiction I haven’t been able to square.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Adriano says. “We don’t need pity. He’d hate that, you know.”

“Was he a proud man?”

“Yes, and he still is, on days when he’s lucid. Those are fewer now than they used to be. I worry we don’t have any left.”

“Does the rest of your family know?”

“Most suspect he’s in bad shape. I’ve been running the organization for a while now. He’s still technically our Don, but he hasn’t made a decision for over a year. It’s all been on me.”

“That’s got to be hard.”

“It’s what he raised me to do.” He looks at me. The coldness there scares me. How can this man talk about the decline of his father like this and still look like nothing penetrates him?

“I’d really like to meet him. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

He stares at me, eyebrows slightly furrowed, like he’s not sure if I’m kidding. He licks his lips, and I think about his mouth on mine. I think about his kiss, his possessive grip on my throat, his bruising fingers spanking my soft skin. There’s power and there’s pain in this man, but there’s also a strange tenderness. Like when he wrapped his arms around me when we were done.

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