Page 16 of Thorns of Death
Except nobody knew that little cracks had started to appear. First in the Marchetti family. Then with Luca DiMauro. Romero wasn’t far behind, hence his eagerness to tie his youngest to Dante Leone. Agosti’s presence in Italy was steady… enough.
Still we were stronger together than apart. We were powerful men and ruled with iron fists. United we could fend off the Bratva—good thing Illias Konstantin was part of our organization—the Corsican mafia, the Yakuza… and the list went on. Set apart, we’d be specs of dust against rival criminals in the underworld.
No matter what, together we would fight. Our children would merge bloodlines and we’d grow even more powerful. Nobody would dare turn on another family if their own children were involved.
The car came to a stop and my driver, who also happened to be my bodyguard, came around and opened the door for me. I gave Giulio a swift nod and made my way out of the car, straightening my jacket and heading up the stairs into one of the most esteemed concert halls in Paris, famous for its architecture. The Philharmonie de Paris.
People parted for me, some even shouting my name, each hoping for a glimpse of my attention as I made my way to my private box. I ignored them. It was just white fucking noise. To them, I was Enrico Marchetti, owner of one of the fashion powerhouses in Italy, as well as a few in France. They’d shit their pants if they knew about the other side of the Marchetti business.
I sensed Manuel’s presence as he joined me, his steps in sync with mine, and his left hand in his pocket. For some reason, he never put both his hands in his pockets. My guess was it had to do with his paranoia of not being able to reach his gun in time. We all dealt with the death of my brother differently.
“I didn’t take you for a symphony kind of guy,” he remarked dryly. “Why the sudden change?”
I didn’t bother shooting the coy fucker a look. We both knew well enough that I wasn’t. My preferred pastime was listening to Bocelli in my home in Italy and drinking scotch or fine Italian wine, not coming to a crowded symphony and being gawked at.
But I hoped—against all odds—that the wild ginger-haired woman who had left my bed without a single note would be playing with this orchestra. Old man Romero mentioned that Reina’s friend played with the orchestra and was highly sought after. It was a shot in the dark, but I was desperate to get her back into my bed.
One night wasn’t enough. My dick demanded more of her tight pussy.
Fucking sue me.
“Were you able to find anything out?” I asked. “She was there with friends. Someone must know her. Did you ask other men from the Omertà who attended the show? I saw her talking to Reina Romero.”
“Niente,” Manuel muttered under his breath.Nothing.I bet it killed him, but it killed me more. I had tasked him with finding intel on the woman for me. It seemed everything about Isla kept coming back blank. “Aiden Callahan ran into an old acquaintance at the fashion show and disappeared. Romero had to deal with his daughters. Apparently he decided to drop the bomb about the arranged marriage the night of the fashion show.”
“I’m guessing the girl wasn’t too happy?”
Manuel shrugged, his brow arching and cutting thick creases into his broad forehead. “She agreed, so she must not have been too unhappy.”
Even though Manuel was my uncle on my father’s side, he was only five years older than me. But he never let me forget he was “wiser and older” than the rest of us. He’d been with my brother and me through thick and thin. He’d done a lot for us. For me. Without questions, without qualms.
That was what family meant to Italians: protect our own at all costs. And that was exactly what Zio Manuel did.
“How hard is it to find a woman?” Agitation suddenly coursed through me. The image of Isla came into my mind. She was… unexpected. Different. Fresh. After a lifetime of deceitful, greedy, and ruthless partners, she stood out like a fresh flower in a meadow. Or maybe a treasure.
She didn’t have the typical beauty I was accustomed to. Hers was untainted and pure… but wild. Definitely wild. The vibrant hair and green eyes that sparkled with delight as she challenged me to get down on my knees. As if it was a hardship. Eating her pussy could easily be put in the top three favorite things I’d ever done. The first being the sensation of her folds strangling my cock. The second would be watching her suck my dick. I’d been too greedy for her pussy, though, and we never got around to her sucking me off.
A heady rush consumed me and something in my chest tightened with a warning.Never get too close to a woman. Our family and women didn’t go hand in hand. Every woman who’d fallen in love and married a Marchetti man over the last five generations had ended up dead.Or dead to me, I thought bitterly. It was safer—for them and for us—to keep them at arm’s length.
Our family was riddled with the thorns of death.
Or blood. Same goddamned thing. I recalled my father’s heart-wrenching howls when he lost our mother. I’d heard the pain in Nonno Amadeo’s voice every time he’d spoken about my nonna, but still he never regretted a moment of that pain.
Amore, my boy, is a blessing. We are what we love, mio figlio.
My brother never understood those words. I never understood it. But our father did. It was never more apparent than the day we buried my mamma who was shot while at the beach. Death came for our women everywhere.
Yet, I couldn’t keep away from this one. I couldn’t handle the distance from her with a clear mind. And the thought of never seeing her again sent a hollow ache throughout my chest.
It was no wonder though. I liked everything about her.
Her sassiness. Her submission. The way she challenged me and stirred something inside me without even trying. I didn’t know what it was. Either way, I got a sense that challenges were as much her weakness as they were mine. And I was up for uncovering hers. The more mystery surrounding her identity, the more enticed I was.
Hence the reason for looking for her. I wasn’t fucking done with her.
“In my humble opinion, maybe the woman doesn’t want to be found,” Manuel reasoned. This time I shot him a glare, which only drew a smile from him. “What? I kept talking and you weren’t listening. I needed your attention.”
My lips twisted wryly. “You sure know how to get it.”
