Page 156 of Dirty Mafia Torment

This isn’t just vengeance; it’s a cold, calculatedshow.

This is Renzo baring his teeth.

God help me, but he’s horrifyingly hot.

“Can fear kill you?” someone murmurs, his tone awestruck.

“What’s worse? Burning on a cross or getting sliced and diced after a bad fall?”

“It has to be by chain saw. It’s the Beneventi way.”

Renzo stands, arms folded, and waits.

And what do I do? Escape the church before Emo’s completely dismembered? Spare myself from witnessing Renzo’s brutality? Get a jump start and escape to Rome?

No, no, and no.

I soak it in. Every scream. Every cut. Every deadly slice.

Because it isn’t the monster who is Renzo Beneventi that’s driving me away.

It’s the man who walked away from me first.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

FINA

I’d liketo say I got my happy ending. That after Emo’s delightful demise and my return to Rome, life was all rainbows and butterflies.

But somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Lorenzo Beneventi. Worse still, I think I’ve always loved him.

That’s what breaks me. For most of my life, I’ve only ever loved two people—my mother and him.

Bittersweet doesn’t even come close to the feeling lodged in my chest. It’s like sinking my teeth into the queen of fruit, a perfect strawberry, expecting a rush of sweetness only to taste rot at its core. No amount of spitting or water can wash it away. It’s a fate almost worse than death.

Mix that with rage, and you have a woman in full-blooded turmoil.

It’s no wonder my emotions are a mess. Renzo has always been a man of extremes, like molten lava shapes his iceberg heart. He can becharming one moment, lethal the next. Sometimes gentle. Sometimes a violent beast.

And with Emo, he had to unleash the beast.

Was I fascinated by the way he killed him? Absolutely. So was everyone in the church, and the whispers will haunt the mafiosi for years. The dark and twisted part of me felt a fierce, satisfying justice in it. Emo will never again get off on terrifying women. Enough said.

I’m strong. I’ve survived worse than loving a liar. Anger will fade. Bitterness will dull. Love will wane into a lull, never quite gone, just there.

He can go on dishing out marriage proposals like hollow mints.

While I build a life without him in it.

Stomach full, I inhale the aroma of espresso, and the garlic from thelinguine alle vongole in olio e aglio,still lingering in the kitchen.

“It’s quiet on the farm at night,” Camilla comments, pulling me out of my head. Zia Teresa will reopen in two more days. My aunt’s excitement is contagious. She even hung a sign on the window that says, “La famiglia ringrazia per la pazienza. Ci vediamo tra due giorni.” Translation:The family thanks you for your patience. See you in two days.

Everyone in the neighborhood will understand which family she’s referring to.

“We can play truth or dare,” Bianca declares, “once we finish the dishes?”

Truth? I don’t know if I believe in the word anymore.