Page 142 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

Do I still love him? Yes. Will I survive without him? Absolutely—surviving is what I do, right? Though I fear this time, my broken heart will never fully heal.

The apartment door bursts open, and I jump and spin.

Luna enters in a flourish.

I look past her.

“Chill. I’m alone. Dante thinks I’m visiting an elderly aunt.” She dumps a bag on the round table and begins unpacking trays of food. I move beside her and place enough food to feed an army inside the apartment refrigerator. The bottle of wine I open immediately and pour two glasses.

I’ve no doubt that, if it hadn’t been for Luna, Alessandro would have located me by now. But Renzo was right, hiding in Italy on the next island over, was a clever decision. I keep a low profile and am careful while walking the small cobblestone streets when I do venture outside.

It’s been two weeks. Tomorrow, I’ll take a huge risk by heading to a nearby resort, where I’ll use a phone to call my grandparents. My grandparents shouldn’t be worrying about me. I’m also curious if Renzo was right—did his deceitful twin search Marietta, thinking I’d run home? Did Alessandro terrify my grandparents with his menacing glares and demands? Are they now questioning how I ever got involved with a monster like him? No one dares deny him anything.

But I’m denying him me.

Feel that, stranzo?

Luna removes the tray from my hands. “You look ready to murder that meatball platter.” She secures it in the refrigerator,and then turns toward me, her eyes filled with animation. “I’ve got news. But you’ll want to finish your wine first.”

My eyebrows lift.

She tugs my elbow and forces me to sit. My stomach knots as she takes a seat across from me. “Dante’s flying to New England next week for a Beneventi wedding. Did you know?”

I reach for my wineglass. “About his wedding? No.”

“Evidently, it was a huge secret.”

Understatement meet cruel reality.

“Her father’s an influential politician. The Eleven are thrilled with the arrangement.”

“I’ll blow up the balloons,” I mutter.

She rambles on, mindless. “Dante says it’s a love match despite—”

I hold up my hand. “No.”

“It’s not?”

Not unless he lied about loving me. “I said no because I …can’t…”

“Is it because of the age gap? He’s what, thirty-eight to her twenty-three?” She makes a face. “Dante refuses my advances because he’s much older. He treats me like a baby, even when I do everything imaginable to make him see I’m not.”

I don’t ask her to define imaginable, and Dante didn’t exactly refuse her advances less than ten minutes ago.

“Wouldn’t it be romantic if Alessandro swooped in here, apologized for being a dick, then brought you to the wedding?”

“What?” I screech. But my racing mind quickly catches up to everything she’s said. Age gap? Who is thirty-eight?

“Wow, Alessandro really pissed you off, huh?”

I place the wineglass on the table. “Luna, this is really important. Which Beneventi is getting married?”

She laughs. “Did you believe it was Renzo?”

“Who, Luna?”

“Our new capo di tutti capi is marrying Alessia Amato.”