Page 135 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

“Luna Gallo.”

Renzo grins. “Perfect.”

Disturbed, I can’t find it in me to smile back.

“Don’t look at me like I’m breaking your heart.” Something lands at my feet. I blink in surprise at the thick bundle of euros.

“Take it.”

“But …”

He stills and looks past me. “Shit, they’re coming.”

A procession of black cars wind along the pathway leading toward us. Quickly, I scoop up the money and join Renzo behind a huge tree.

“Look at that stranzo driving his red Maserati to a fucking funeral.”

I don’t dare look. “Who is he?”

“Matteo Lombardi. A family friend.”

I catch the sarcasm in his voice. “You say it like he’s your enemy.”

“Yeah, well, I survived three murder attempts, so I wouldn’t exactly say we’re BFFs.”

My eyes widen. Will the Beneventi brothers ever cease in shocking me?

“Is there a dark-haired bombshell in the passenger seat?”

The answer is no, because Renzo’s done so again. I look from him—eyes closed with his back pressed to the tree protecting us from sight and in what I guess is some state of instantaneous agony—to the Maserati below. Bombshell suddenly takes on greater significance. “Only one person is inside, and he’s driving.”

Renzo pulls away from the tree with a fresh burst of adrenaline. “Just as well.”

“It’s not what you’re running from butwho,” I exclaim. It’s likely Mr. Lombardi has good reason to murder Renzo.

Sunlight peeks between the clouds, and the quiet is interrupted from its nap as men exit their cars and somberly gather around the grave. My heart dips when I spy Alessandro carrying the casket.

“Lucky shit’s a pallbearer,” Renzo grumbles beside me.

An extremely attractive man bearing a strong resemblance to the twins is across from him. This must be Don Beneventi—the air of power around him is undeniable.

Don Lucchese’s coffin is set in the grave, and men take their positions around it.

“Look at the Eleven pay my father respect.” Renzo points to a large group gathered around his father. “The sly bastard succeeded.”

“He’s in charge now, right?”

Renzo snorts. “He’s always been in charge. But formally, yes. The vote went his way. He’s now capo di tutti capi.”

Sadness and excitement mix in the air, and conversations drift on the wind. My focus shifts to Alessandro standing acrossthe grave and encircled by more men. Unlike with his father, men get in, say their piece, and hurry away. Reminding me of the first time I saw him, terrorizing men from across the bar.

Oddly, the thought soothes me. Because we’re not strangers meeting for the first time. We’re two people in love and navigating every day the best we can.

“I’m going down for a closer look,” Renzo murmurs. “You coming?”

I swallow hard. “I’d rather stay here.”

“Suit yourself.” He pauses, and then kicks at a stone, sending it flying. “Look, Riley. Whatever you decide, keep this in mind. My brother’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you. But if he obeys my father’s wishes and goes through with this bullshit, you still should know his heart will only belong to you.”