Page 3 of Bellini Bound
I sat bolt upright and immediately regretted it when my stomach lurched. Racing to the bathroom, I barely made it in time for the vomit spewing from my mouth to make it into the toilet instead of splashing all over the marble floor.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I flushed before leaning against the bathtub. I waited a few minutes to make sure I wouldn’t get sick again, then stood to brush my teeth.
Collapsing atop my mattress, I let myself believe that those mental images were a product of my drunken delirium—nothing more than a bad dream.
But when I grabbed my phone and saw the text from Matteo, it only confirmed that I was stuck inside a waking nightmare that would never end. At least, not until I was dead and buried in the ground, which in my line of work could be sooner rather than later.
Here’s hoping.
Matteo:I’ve secured the church, the marriage license, and the rings. All you have to do is show up on Saturday morning.
That’s nice, but my passport’s burning a hole in my safe. I think I need to take it for a spin.
Matteo:You might be the head of my security team, but don’t forget I’m the don. My orders trump yours. If you want to say stupid shit that makes it sound like you’re a flight risk, I will be forced to put you under guard for the next forty-eight hours. Is that what you want?
You couldn’t have picked a worse time to have a doctor slice open your balls and mess around with the plumbing inside. I like you a lot better when you’re getting them drained on the regular.
Matteo:Do me a favor. Worry a little more about your own sex life.
What sex life? That’s dying along with my freedom, thanks to you. I’m not fucking touching that girl.
Matteo:Never say never.
Oh, I’m saying it. Because hell will be freezing over and pigs will take to the sky before I lay a goddamn finger on the police commissioner’s daughter. I still can’t believe you’re making me do this.
Matteo:How long can I expect the whining to last? It’s not a good look for you.
Probably only for so long as this marriage that’s being forced down my throat lasts. So, pretty much until I manage to eat lead and become worm food.
Matteo:I’ll leave you to your sulking. But do me a favor and don’t be late on Saturday.
Kinda busy in the middle of the last favor you asked of me.
Matteo:That wasn’t a favor. It was an order. You’d do well to remember that.
It’s momentslike these when I really miss Gio.
Matteo: You and me both. If he could hurry his ass up and come home, we’d all be a lot happier.
I decided not to respond any further because we could go back and forth on this all day, and I didn’t have the energy. Not when I was pouring every ounce of it into the effort required not to punch a fucking wall.
Matteo was never meant to become Don of the Bellini Mafia. He fell into that role by default when his older brother, Gio, decided to chase after his estranged—or rather, runaway—wife who had disappeared a few years back.
As Gio’s second, I by default became Matteo’s. My baby cousin—five years my junior—relied heavily upon me after taking over because he’d primarily been relegated to our legitimate businesses. Most notably, he served as the CEO of Bellini Real Estate, a multibillion-dollar conglomerate.
Taking on the underworld dealings on top of his executive duties couldn’t have come at a worse time. He’d recently been widowed, left to raise his two little girls, Bianca and Serafina, all alone. So, I’d picked up the slack, taking as much off his overloaded plate as possible.
But I wasn’t paid nearly enough to compensate for being forced into a marriage to satisfy a vendetta. Considering my net worth was in the millions, that was saying something.
Desperately needing to focus on someone else’s problems so mine didn’t drive me fucking insane, I tapped a familiar contact on my phone and brought it to my ear as it rang.
“Enzo? Did you find him?” My older sister Gemma’s voice came down the line.
I pinched the bridge of my nose as I released a heavy breath. Seven months ago, our father had threatened her life if she didn’t help him do some shady shit when it came to the sports betting division of our casino business. She’d refused, so he went after her boyfriend, and now the two of them were currently under the protection of the Bellinis until we found the son of a bitch who had vanished like a thief in the night.
“Sorry, Gem. No sign of dear old Dad,” I confessed.
“Okay . . .” Her confusion was audible. “Then why are you calling?”
