Page 52

Stephano nods. "I suppose that makes sense."

The helicopter banks as my mansion comes into view, and suddenly I feel lighter.

"So what's your stake in this?" I ask Stephano directly.

"Besides not having my father killed on a whim?" Stephano's hands stroke the fine leather of the seat he's sitting in, and I take his words as if they were meant, not as an insult, but as commiseration. Edoardo never intended for it to get out that he was behind the hit on my father, but his backing of Carlos when all was said and done brought the message home loud and clear.

"Your father asked for a mozione di sfiducia," Stephano states. He's right. A couple of weeks before my father’s death, he asked the other capos for a vote of no confidence against our Don. The title Don is inherited, given from father to oldest son in our family hierarchy. A mozione di sfiducia doesn't happen very often, but it is not without precedent. Usually, it would mean the title would go to the next in line in the Zanello family, but Edoardo is currently the only male qualified to hold the title.Meaning, the vote of mozione di sfiducia, if approved, would have moved the Don's title to one of the other five families.

"I'm a strong supporter of free speech," Stephano continues. "A right that seems to have been taken from us after your father's death."

At the chopper’s approach, I stare out the window, searching for a narrow frame on a balcony. But she isn’t to be seen.

Probably going through all the new clothes she ordered, I muse, shaking Stephano's hand as I climb out of the chopper. "Thank you for this meeting."

"Let's keep in touch," Stephano nodded, "it seems we have very similar goals in mind. And thanks for the ride."

I watch the chopper take off, Stephano pulling out his phone and talking animatedly to someone. His father, I would bet my money on.

Well, that was a very interesting morning. More so than I had anticipated when I left. Now, I turn toward my mansion, filled with anticipation at seeing Scarlet and hoping to spend the rest of the day in peace.

If anybody toldme a few days ago that I would have sex with a mafia boss and spend the morning after with his sister, having the time of my life, I would have accused them of being high.

It's happening, though. Guiliana, or Gigi, as she likes to be called, is not only funny but also the easiest person to talk to I've ever met.

"He wasn't always this perfect, you know," she tells me in a conspiratory whisper. "His front teeth used to be like this," she puts her pointer fingers in front of her mouth and holds them standing out and sideways. "Oh wait, I have pictures…."

She picks up her phone and swipes through them. The idea that Antonio used to have flaws intrigues me. Well, flaws besides being a dangerous mafioso, that is.

"Ahh, here it is. I made this folder for when he gets married one day. All his little embarrassing moments. I plan on putting on quite the slideshow." She winks, and I laugh.

"I thought you said you deleted those," comes a familiar voice from the doorway.

My head turns so fast, I fear I just gave myself whiplash.

And there he stands in all his glory. My heart hitches. Nobody should be allowed to look this perfect. At some point, he loosened the tie around his neck and opened the first few buttons on his dress shirt, and oh boy, does he look hot.

A five o'clock shadow is blooming on his face, making his olive skin tone appear darker and smoothing some of the hard edges of his jawline and square chin.

To a casual observer, he would appear relaxed, casually leaning against the doorframe, but to me, he looks like a predator about to spring on his unsuspecting victim.

His hands work on his cufflinks, no doubt preparing to roll up his sleeves. His dress jacket is carelessly slung over his right shoulder. My stomach flutters ridiculously at the sight of him. I don't think a better-looking man has ever walked the Earth.

"I lied," Gigi replies to her brother and holds out the phone to me.

I shouldn't be lusting after a teenager—Antonio is probably not older than fourteen or fifteen in this picture, but even at that age, he was hot. His hair was longer and wavy, and he wasn't as filled out as he is now, but I bet every girl in high school was vying for his attention. Despite the… I suppress a small giggle, crooked as hell teeth. Gigi wasn't kidding. Those teeth were hideous.

"I suggest you take your phone back now, Gigi, or I'll be forced to send certain images to a certain man." He raises an eyebrow, and Gigi squeals.

With a small giggle, I hand the phone back to her. "You owe me a story," I whisper, and Gigi actually turns bright pink.

"You were supposed to delete those," she pouts.

"I lied," he throws her words back at her with a crooked smile that would make any movie star die of envy.

"So," Antonio drawls out theO, "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

"I just came to see how my big brother is doing," Gigi says, getting up and embracing him.