Page 55 of Born into Mayhem

“You’re going to be begging me to let you keep my ring on your finger when this is all over,” he says, and I bark out a laugh right in his smugly grinning face.

“That’s never going to happen.” I hold up my hand, looking at the large diamond that still feels so foreign on my finger. The sun makes it sparkle, and there’s no denying it’s gorgeous, but it’s notme. It’s nothing I would ever choose to wear.

Undeterred, he just gives me another wink and says, “We’ll see.”

Sandro comes walking around the side of the house before I can push his brother over the cliff behind us. When I dart my eyes to the steep drop off, Dario gives a soft laugh before lifting me off the stone wall and setting me back on my feet.

“Don’t plot my death just yet, little viper. We still have a job to do.”

I give him a sweet smile, one that I imagine a wife would give to her husband and say, “I’ll try my best.”

We turn to Sandro as my brother walks down the path to join us. The first thing out of Sandro’s mouth is, “I heard you two were having some fun out here.”

Dario gives me a pointed look that I pretend to ignore while he says, “I knew Paulo wouldn’t be able to resist spreading the word around. He’s a lot like your Uncle Vitaly when it comes to gossip.”

“He’s a good man to have in a fight,” Sandro adds, “but don’t ever tell him anything you don’t want the entire villa to know about.” He laughs and shares a look with Dario. “I learned that the hard way when I lied toMammaand told her I was too sick to go to Mass so I could stay back and have fun with one of the maids.” His eyes are lit up with amusement when he stares down at me. “She was not pleased, and she forced me to immediately go to confession.”

I can’t help but laugh at Sandro’s story. He’s as laid-back as his brother is intense, and I could use some of his easygoing mirth right now. “How old were you?” I ask him.

I’m expecting him to say it was something that happened when he was a teenager, so when he says, “Twenty-five,” I laugh even harder and point my finger at him.

“I had no idea you were such a mama’s boy, Sandro.”

Dario laughs while Sandro looks back at the house like he’s afraid their mom might be hiding in the bushes and listening. “Don’t be fooled by her small stature,” he says. “She’s a lot like you—tiny but ferocious. I fear her more than I do our dad.”

“He’d love to hear you say that,” Dario says.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” Sandro says. “You keep your mouth shut, and I’ll help steer away all conversations about birthing hips and babies.”

“Deal,” I quickly say, making the agreement on Dario’s behalf. I look up and meet the dark look he’s giving me. “What?” I ask. “It was a good deal.”

“Does that path lead to the beach?” Sasha’s question pulls our attention back to the amazing view around us.

“It does,” Dario says. “It’s private, and everyone knows to stay away from our property, but if you want to go for a swim, let someone know. With everything that’s going on, we’re taking extra precautions.”

I tilt my head, trying to see down the path, already planning to sneak down there for a swim the first chance I get.

“I’m serious,streghetta mia. If you want to go somewhere or see something, you let me know first,” Dario says, fully back to the intense, broody mood I’ve grown used to over the years.

“Am I allowed to pee whenever I want, or do I need to ask you for permission for that too?” I ask.

His jaw tenses at my tone. I hear Sandro’s snort of a laugh, but I don’t look away from my pretend husband.

“I’d prefer it if you asked me for permission,” he says.

I pat his chest and give him a very condescending smile. “That’s never going to fucking happen.”

He grabs my hand, the one that’s still patting his hard-as-a-rock chest and tells Sandro and Sasha, “I’m going to show her our room.” He adds something in Italian for Sandro while I tell my brother in Russian, “I might very well kill him and ruin the mission.”

Sasha gives me a half-grin. “No, you won’t. You’re going to end up marrying him for real.”

My jaw drops at his announcement, grateful that at least Dario won’t understand a word of it.

“Why would you say that?” I ask him.

He just shrugs and says, “I notice details.”

I want to ask him what details he’s talking about, but he’s already grabbing his phone and sending a text to check on Chort. He doesn’t often show emotion, but I can tell he’s worried about his dog. Our dad agreed to look after him, but the only human that dog likes is standing right in front of me.