Aria leans into me and asks her father, “I’m starving. Is dinner ready yet?”
“Actually, I’d like to talk to E before we eat. You go on ahead. We’ll meet you in there.”
Aria nods like an obedient little mouse and pops up to kiss me before she prances out of the room.
For someone who claims to not enjoy it here, she sure seems spritely to be back.
I turn around, moving to sit in the chair. I’m not surprised Trent wants to chat. It’s his power move to let me know we’re onhisturf, inhishouse, and it’shisdaughter. It’s the same thing I would do in his position.
Unfortunately for him, I don’t give a fuck.
My turf is wherever I decide it is.
The door clicks when it closes, and Trent plants himself down behind his desk.
I’m surprised when Venesa follows him and perches on the corner. She crosses one long leg over the other, the slit in her dress making the fabric fall to the side, putting every inch of that delicious thick thigh on display.
Blood rushes to my groin, and I shift in my seat, tearing my eyes away and willing myself to not get a hard-on. This is beyond inappropriate, and although cheating is a normal thing in the Mafia way of life, it’s never something that’s interested me.
I saw the way it tore my mother up from the inside out, and no one will ever convince me it wasn’t the final nail in her coffin.
“I’m glad you finally made it down, E. Would have been nice to have received an earlier visit or at least a phone call before you popped the question, but I guess we can’t have everything.” Trent smiles around the cigar he just placed in his mouth.
I smirk. We both know he was in the marriage negotiations with my father. “I’m not really in the business of asking permission. You understand.”
Trent’s eyes narrow, his broad forehead creasing. “I knew your brother, you know.”
His words are a punch to my gut, but I don’t let the hurt show on my face. Giuseppe—or Peppino, as we called him—has been gone for a little over three years, but sometimes it still feels like yesterday.
That’s the thing about grief, I guess. It steals the air from your lungs just as you’ve finally figured out how to breathe.
“Oh?” I cross my leg over my knee.
Venesa sighs, and I flick my eyes to her briefly, trying to ignore the buzzing between us. We’re not even that close, and yet the energy zaps so strongly, it feels like her skin is rubbing against mine.
“He was planning on opening up a hotel down here, did you know that?” Trent continues.
“There are a lot of things Giuseppe did that I wasn’t aware of.” I keep my tone relaxed, even though I’m internally wondering how the fuck Ididn’tknow that.
Growing up, I always let my brother and Pops do their own thing. I was never interested in the ins and outs of Peppino’s business or the way he ran it. It was only after he passed away and I took his place that I realized maybe I never really knew him at all.
Almost immediately, I discovered his shady business deals—even by our standards—and illegitimate children with multiple women. None of them claimed publicly, of course, so none who are taken care of or get to see a cent of the fortune he left behind.
Peppino wasn’t a good man, and I always knew that. I guess I just never paid attention tohowshitty he was until after he was gone. There’s a difference between a man who does bad things and a bad man. Not that it really matters. He may have been a shit human being, and we may not have been close, but he was still my brother.
Trent runs a bulky hand over his white beard. “I’d like you to consider doing the same now that you’ve taken over his company. Opening a hotel down here, I mean.”
I nod toward his cigar case. “You don’t mind?”
He waves his hand. “Please.”
“Here, let me.” Venesa reaches out before I can, grabbing a cigar and bringing it to her mouth, then flicking open the top of the Zippo and circling it over the end until it lights up cherry red.
I’m transfixed on the sight of her lips forming perfectly around the cigar, and visions of them leaving a red ring around my cock the same way make my dick twitch to life. I’m like a goddamn teenager around this chick, and a brief thought of her possibly doing it on purpose courses through my mind.
I wouldn’t put it beyond Trent to be testing me.
She pulls the cigar from her mouth, blowing out a plume of smoke before leaning forward and passing it to me with a wink. Our fingers brush as I take it, and the exhilarating feeling of being served by her rushes through me.
