Page 28 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)
TWENTY-SEVEN
Sam
T he scent of home-cooked food assaults me when I enter my consigliere's home in the French Quarter. I follow the smell of bubbling red sauce and stewed meats to Adrian's kitchen, shock taking over when I see my blue-haired cousin wearing an apron and rolling out pasta dough.
"Since when do you cook?" I ask Madi.
She blows a strand of hair off her face and presses her palms into the dough, kneading thoroughly before rolling the ball with the palm of her hand and repeating the process. "Don't act so surprised," she grumbles. "I'm a great cook."
At that moment, Adrian walks into the kitchen from the other entrance, pausing when he hears her statement. From behind her, he meets my eyes, shaking his head and causing me to chuckle.
Madi whips her head around at the sound of my laugh, meeting her husband’s face, who’s now acting like he didn't do a thing.
My little cousin, the youngest of all of us, spent her entire childhood trying to avoid being the perfect mafia wife, thwarting every attempt at teaching her how to cook or keep house. I'm not surprised to hear she's not good at it. I am surprised to see she's trying, though.
Is this what love does to a person?
"I'm sure it's delicious, Mads. You'll have to have me for dinner, hmm?"
"And your new girl?" She pauses her kneading, flour-covered hands coming to her hips.
My eyes move to Adrian, who's now hanging his head.
He shouldn't be telling anyone anything that goes on in la famiglia, and that should also mean not telling your wife.
I don't have experience in that area, but I imagine that's easier said than done.
Especially when you're married to any of the women in my family.
"Don't look at him," Madi adds. "You took her to see Lana."
I give Adrian an easy smile, signaling it's okay, and redirect my attention back to Madi.
"It's not like that."
"You have a woman living in your house, and it's not like that?" She mocks me with a deep voice.
I scrub a hand over my jaw, feeling the tension building there. I don't know how to explain Olivia to Madi. She's just a girl I'm forcing to live with me because she saw me murder our uncle. No big deal.
"Tell me," Madi demands.
Most people don't talk to me like that. Don't make demands of me.
Behind her, Adrian winces, clearly uncomfortable with the way his wife is talking to his boss.
Even Lana would be more polite when discussing this matter, or any other, with me.
But Madi is the baby, and since the day she was born, I've been protective of her.
Same with my grandfather. And thus, we've created a brat who can make demands and we'll cave every time.
"She witnessed something she shouldn't have." I settle on a partial truth.
Madi narrows her eyes. "She saw you kill Uncle Damien."
Adrian hisses, "Madi?—"
I wave a hand to silence him. "Yes," I admit.
"Is she going to tell anyone?"
Madi seems unfazed by the death of our uncle. Probably because she didn't like him any more than I did. He's the reason Madi was still forced to marry Adrian even after her brother’s death. No love lost there.
"I don't think so," I answer truthfully.
"But you don't know for sure?" Her eyebrow lifts with the question.
"No."
"Are you going to…" she trails off, not saying the words that we're all thinking.
Why haven't I killed the witness?
"No. That's not an option."
Madi nods. "Good. So then, what are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"Do you love her?"
I hiss out a breath, shocked by the question. Do I love the girl I'm forcing to live with me? The one who I'd do anything for to make her smile? The one whose lips I'm desperate to taste?
I can't be falling for her.
It's not safe to be with me.
" No," I answer, even if it tastes wrong on my tongue.
Madi smiles like she knows I'm a liar. "Well then, can I meet her?"
I'm about to say absolutely fucking not when my phone rings. I fish the device from my pocket, seeing Roman's name flashing on the screen.
"Yeah?" I answer, forgoing the greeting.
"Boss, we got a problem. Olivia's grandfather is losing his shit."
I leave Madi and Adrian quickly, hopping in the Escalade and telling Donnie to gun it to the bar. The thought of Olivia in distress or danger has my heart pounding.
Why am I feeling like this?
Why do I care so much?
That stupid organ inside my chest aches as thoughts race through my mind about what she might be going through.
It was hard enough for me losing my grandfather, especially knowing that the cancer could take him any day.
But Olivia is watching hers slowly lose his mind.
And now, with him becoming aggressive, having a single nurse with him might not be enough.
But I doubt she's going to want to discuss other options. Even if I offer to pay for the best care facility in New Orleans, I know she'll say no.
She's going to want to take care of him herself.
And the person stopping her from doing just that is me.
But I'm a selfish bastard, because the idea of letting her go feels equivalent to someone prying my ribs open and yanking my heart out.
I'm not letting her out of my grasp. Not now. Maybe not ever.
But that's a silly idea. Because I know being with me isn't safe. The best thing for her is to stay in my protection, but somehow also far away from me. Only, those two things can't happen at the same time.
I need to make a choice.
Protect the girl or walk away for good.
Like I said, I'm a selfish bastard.
I don't think I can walk away.