Page 139 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

Alessia watches the clock. She’s worried my father won’t return, but, although I’m anxious to get this bullshit over with, I know my father won’t be long. He’ll entertain the Eleven like they’re celebrities while establishing his authority and makingthem believe their say is important. Then he’ll return to pull the same shit on us, minus the Hollywood treatment.

I rub my chin and try to see things from his perspective. “He’s never committed to a woman before,” I mutter. “Having two heirs to carry on the Beneventi name without marrying allowed him the freedom to do whatever the fuck he wants.”

Like break her heart.

Jesus. It’s the whiskey bringing out the human side in me. Since when do I care about Alessia Amato’s tender heart?

Alessia stares at her wine like it’s suddenly been poisoned.

But the fact is my father’s obsessed with her. What he needs is a slap in the face and a wake-up call. “If you love him, really love him, then you’ll need to teach him how to love a woman. Because I’m not sure he’s capable of it.”

She looks pale.

“I said too much.” I mutter. She’s as much a victim of my father’s ambition as I am, and as fucking annoying as it’s been seeing her underfoot at the Beneventi estate, I might have been a dick but I never actually hated her.

Her eyes light up with an idea. “Next time he mentions the wedding, we tell him no. What’s the worst he’ll do? Lock us in the dungeon?”

Yeah, she’s likeable, and a perfect match forhim.

My perfect woman, despite my slapping a goddamn ankle monitor on her and expecting her to stay put, has escaped me.

I take another deep drink, and Alessia follows suit. Until we’re two drunk assholes acting out situations that’d piss off my father.

Fierce pounding on the hotel room door interrupts us.

I brace myself as the door swings open and my father staggers in. “You didn’t book her a room.”

Thumb, meet button I’m about to press. Because we Beneventi loathe sharing our toys, and women. I toss an armaround her shoulder. “She’s spending the evening with her fiancé.”

Dumbfounded—there’s no better word for his reaction. It’s understandable, considering how my relationship with Alessia has been like navigating a minefield, with his future wife cautiously stepping around the explosives I set to go off.

He scowls.

And then his gaze descends on her.

I hold my breath asstubborn pridebattles it out withpossessive asshole. I squeeze her shoulder, and if I wasn’t his son—wasn’t his only reliable heir—I’d be dead about now. His eyes narrow and nostrils flare, and suddenly months of bullshit goes up in flames like dry brush.

“Get your hands off her,” he snaps, “or I’ll break every finger.”

Music to my goddamn ears.

“You”—he addresses Alessia as I unwind—“were supposed to be alone and waiting.”

“But instead I’m with my fiancée.”

She’s good at this.

“Not anymore,” he flatly replies.

Alessia doesn’t catch on right away, not realizing I’m the “not anymore.”

The only thing that’d make what plays out next better is popcorn.

And Riley.

Run all you want, baby. But I’ll find you, soothe your worries, and then spank your ass pink. And you’ll love every second of it.

My father whisks Alessia up and hauls ass out the door. Leaving me to crawl over to where I tossed my cell and call for an update.