Page 102 of Sins of the Orchid

Fucking finally!

Santi was finally letting me back into our business. There was no better place for me than the Cosa Nostra, but Pà had insisted I go to college and study business.

Be normal! Boring!

I fucking hated it. All I wanted to do was hustle. It was the only puzzle that fit perfectly in my whole existence.

Nothing compared to it. Not even sex… and I fucking loved sex.

Pà could have insisted I become a doctor, a fucking saint; it wouldn’t have mattered. I would have found my way back to the wrong side of the law. Why? Because I fucking thrived in it, just like any other Russo. It was ingrained in my brother; it was ingrained in me.

Santi went to NYU, studied business too. But unlike me, he breezed through it. I only passed thanks to Amore’s help.

Amore. My best friend, who happens to be a girl.

People didn’t understand our dynamic, but the truth was that my best friend saved me as much as I saved her. As much as I loved the hustle, the killings weren’t my thing. Killing men stained me and somehow over the years since my first kill, I lost my way.

I killed my first man when I was fifteen. I watched the void fill his dying gaze. It hit me all wrong. Santi told me there was no sense in regrets. It was a waste of time and energy. But for some reason, the regrets kept piling up and eating at me, one by fucking one.

They didn’t seem to bother Santi, but they ate at me, slowly and painfully. Like a slow killing poison, weakening me.Until I met Amore. Something about her calmed me and eased the pain of regret, it faded into a fog that didn’t matter as much.

Maybe it was the fact that both of us hurt and that neither one of us liked cruelty and had seen enough of it first-hand. She had never uttered the words of what she had experienced, but the glimpses of her nightmares and panic attacks revealed plenty

And now… this task that Santi had put me on was easy, digging up information was my expertise. Yet, it felt like a betrayal.

It was a crossroad.

I could dig up the reason behind Amore’s trip to Venezuela. But my gut feeling was telling me it couldn’t be good. It had to be connected to her history, to what happened to her mother. I thought we were best friends, that we’d shared everything.

Well, except for Russo business, I thought wryly.

I never shared the Russo or the Cosa Nostra business with her. Not that she ever seemed even remotely interested.

Unlocking my phone, I searched her up in my phone book. She should be available.

The line rang and rang. Just as I thought she wouldn’t answer, her voice came through.

“Hey, Adriano.”

A soft emotion glimmered in my chest.

“How is my favorite girl?” I asked.

A soft chuckle traveled over the line. “Good. And you? Any stalker ex-girlfriends need a call from me?”

It was what we did. She always jumped in to pose as my steady girlfriend. We got along so well, sometimes I wondered how we’d get along as a real couple. Those ideas were more frequent in recent months. Amore Bennetti was a gorgeous, sweet ass. Sweetest ass I had ever seen, and I’ve seen my share.

“I’m safe from any stalkers,” I assured her with a chuckle. “I just wanted to check on how you are doing. You were never fond of downtime.”

“I’m doing great,” she replied. I could hear lightness and happiness in her voice. I frowned. She sounded different. Happier than ever before.

“Any reason why you are doing great?”

She chuckled. “Should there be a reason?”

“Usually, women are doing great when they are in love,” I grunted. Something about Amore being in love rubbed me the wrong way.

“You should know, huh?” she teased. A light bitterness swelled inside me. I guess I deserved that. After all, how many times had I left her alone for a quick fuck? But I always came back to her.