Page 103 of Dirty Mafia King

He hesitates.

“Love. Say it. The twins?”

His head shakes. “We Italians value family over everything else. If anything, the twins make you stronger. You lead with purpose, and with the famigilia’s future in mind.”

“I love the little shits.”

He grins. “So do I.”

I push the fried rice container toward him. “Eat.”

“Your weakness is that…” He answers my question as he dishes himself a plate. “…you make yourself miserable by overthinking things.”

That catches my attention. “How so?”

“Before any major decisions, I’ve seen you holed up in your office, weighing the pros and cons and everything between. Yet if you actually ask yourself, did your decision change from when you sat down to when you concluded, I bet it never wavered. That you already decided.”

I chew and consider his reply. “Things get messy when you don’t consider different angles.”

“Things get messy even when you do.”

“True.” I snort. “I like being in control.”

“Yes. You do.”

“And one step ahead.”

“You always are.” He pauses. “But you’ve been wound up for months.”

I sip my whiskey from a paper cup. “The sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll aren’t helping.” The party was meant to mellow me. Except the little gate-crasher ruined things … and if I’m honest, she upended my life the first time in my office. An inexperienced woman with a curiosity for darker play—I didn’t see it coming. But earlier in the pool, with her pussy juice all over my mouth, my cock was hard with need. I could play with her. Teach her. Ruin her six ways to Sunday and back. Jus Primae Noctis—right of the first night.

An old Italian custom.

My right.

Freido points a chopstick at me. “You take care of yourself in every way but one, Bastian—never here.” He thumps his heart.

Love, for a woman, he means.

Like I have time for that.

I toss my chopsticks on the paper plate. “We need a plumber.”

He stares at me for a few moments longer, and then grunts. “Do we? No one said…”

“And an electrician.”

His brow furrows. “Okay.”

“Tonight.”

He stands.

I nod to his half-eaten plate. “Finish your food before you have the men cut the power and water to the casita and make the calls.”

Never, in the fifteen years I’ve known the man, has he looked this flabbergasted.

“Then tell Alessia to pack her shit. She’s moving into the main house tonight.”