Page 4 of One Savage Union

“It’s what Leo wants,” I reply evenly. “A full-on war to cover his power grab. He doesn’t just want to run this family. He wants to break it and rebuild it in his image—with Ricci under his thumb.”

Thomasso paces once, then stops, breathing hard. His eyes fall back to Lucia’s photo. He picks it up and studies it in silence for a long beat.

“She’s a beautiful woman,” he murmurs. Then he glances at me, a memory flickering in his expression. “A pianist… like your mother. My sainted sister.”

I recognize the weight of grief in his gaze. The line he’s drawing between past and future. All he has to do is give the order, and I’ll make Leo disappear.

But he doesn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he watches me as I stare at her photo.

I haven’t stopped thinking about her since the moment I discovered her.

I had to see her in the flesh. To know if what the valet said was true.

I stalked her from the shadows. I watched her go to her favorite café off Broadway and sip coffee. I followed her to the piano class she teaches at Juilliard. I looked on as she wiped tears after picking up her mother’s ashes in the Bronx from a small funeral home, Morris Heights.

I had small cameras planted in her home while she was away.

Just twenty-four hours, and she’s already taken up space in my mind like she was carved into it.

Lucia.

Even her name tastes like sin.

Her skin is copper-toned silk, warmed by the sun, but her eyes—God, her eyes—those are Ricci eyes. Cold. Calculating.

But still Beautiful.

She’s a walking contradiction. The perfect blend of fire and ice, bred from two bloodlines that were likely never meant to touch.

We Sicilians rarely breed outside of our community. La Familia is diverse and varied, yet still somewhat close-minded.

Another reason why Ricci hid her.

My uncle leans back, his gaze fixed on mine, calculating.

“You know, Rocco, Leo’s plan isn’t all bad now that I think about it. If he can marry her, so can you. It’s time we took our rightful place as the sole family ruling America; we need Ricci to come to heel and accept his new place as second dog. A marriage may be the best way to accomplish that without bloodshed. If Leo had taken her, he would have undoubtedly hurt her. But you, you can keep her.”

My jaw clenches.Marriage was never my plan.

Getting her in my bed to lick every inch of her until she screams my name? Yes.

Killing that bastard Leo for even thinking of touching her? Yes.

Using our knowledge of her as leverage to bring Ricci to heel? Yes.

But marriage? Hell no.

I’m not built for it. I don’t coddle or care, I kill.

I keep women at arm’s length. They’re unpredictable and manipulative. I fuck them senseless, but never for more than a week or two. I spoil them with lavish gifts while we’re together and gently dismiss them when our time is up.

And even if I weren’t an asshole with commitment issues, my way would be best. Mafia life isn’t conducive to the health and safety of women. Our wars are supposedly fought between men, but women always end up as collateral damage. They carry the deepest wounds of war.

My mother died violently, and she was only loosely affiliated with the family business.

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