Page 13 of Sins of the Orchid

A five-year-old outside of this world had more freedom than an eighteen-year-old locked in the gilded cage of the Cosa Nostra. While I wasn’t a part of it, many other daughters were. They were pawns in large-scale drug or arms trafficking agreements.

Thankfully, that wouldn’t be my fate. I grew up differently than most girls in the mafia world and had tasted a limited amount of freedom. I had experienced more in my life than some of the married women in this world.

Of course, it wasn’t easy on my dad. Grandma and he bickered about my future all the time.

Dad, while overly protective, understood he’d alienate me by enforcing a completely different lifestyle. And my grandmother fought to raise me the way my mother would have wanted.

Grandma could be just as overbearing as my father, but with our common love for designing and fashion, we spent a lot of time together. I found freedom in expressing my creative side, so it felt like she granted me more liberties and freedom. But I knew it wasn’t so. Still, I couldn’t fault either one of them for their overzealous need to protect me. Especially considering that the Venezuelan Cartel was present even in New York.

“Where is the party?” Lorenzo questioned.

I groaned out loud. “You aren’t going to crash it, I hope,” I hissed low under my breath.

He tilted his head, watching me with a mild reprimand in his eyes. “I just want to be sure you are safe.”

“I will be,” I told him. “Adriano will be there. He won’t leave me.”Not unless he is getting laid.But I’d never tell my brother that.

“He better not,” he retorted. “Not if he wants to live. Tell me where?”

“NYU,” I finally admitted.

“Ah, your dream university,” he uttered softly. “You just can’t wait to get there.”

I rolled my eyes, though a smile played around my face. “I’ll text you if I need you.”

He looped his arm around my shoulders as we resumed walking. “So, after that, he’ll take you to your grandma’s?” I nodded. “Maybe I should come along? After all, you are underage.”

“Don’t be a party pooper,” I complained, narrowing my eyes at him annoyed.

“You better call me at any hint of trouble,” he deadpanned, and my expression instantly softened. I couldn’t blame him for worrying.

Ever since he caught his mother hurting me and his delayed reaction, he has blamed himself. We had a conversation about it. He wasn’t to blame. He admitted that Elena hadn’t been much of a mother to them, loved scheming and turning Lorenzo and Luigi against each other as well as their father. Dad put up with it, knowing that his sons were strong enough to ignore their mother. But her hurting me physically took it too far. Both of my brothers had become my protectors in every sense of the word since that day. They assured me they didn’t hold any resentment against me for what happened to their mother. Their exact words were,“She made her own bed and ultimately she had to lie in it.”

She was still their mother. So, in a sense, all three of us mourned the loss of our mothers. It made us even closer.

“I promise.” I hugged him tightly, then stepped back, taking my bag back. He nodded and went down the hallway, probably into the library. He loved to hang out there. It was our most favorite room in the house.

I made my way down the stairs and through the large marble foyer, turning a corner in the hallway near my father’s office when I collided with a solid chest.

“Ouch,” I murmured, rubbing my forehead. “Watch where—” The words trailed off as I stepped back and met dark eyes.

Santino!

“Kiddo, you have to watch where you are going.” A flicker of impatience in his dark brown eyes had taken me aback. He had a cell phone in one hand and must have been reading a message when we bumped into each other. So, he wasn’t paying attention either.

“Well, you should too,” I told him, annoyance flashing in my eyes. I hated thekiddoendearment. By anyone, but most of all him. I tilted my head towards the phone in his hand. “Shouldn’t text and walk. Nor text and drive.”

A tiny bit of amusement sparked in his eyes.

“You have gotten brave, Amore,” he drawled.

This man of the Cosa Nostra has killed numerous men; stronger people than me have cowered before him, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. I’d stake my life on it. I didn’t know why, but I felt it deep down in my bones and my heart. He was my safety, my protector. Always had been.

And it wasn’t because of my father. He wasn’t scared of my father; this Russo was a lot tougher and harder than my father. I wore no rose-colored glasses when it came to my dad. So, I gathered that the reason he’d never hurt me was probably because Adriano and I were so close.

“Maybe I have been brave all along,” I told him, tilting my chin up in defiance. I probably looked like a spoiled brat to him. “You just happened to catch me on a bad day. Once.” I referred to how we met.

His hand came up and he ran his thumb across his jaw, like he was seriously thinking about that. Maybe he’d finally stop thinking about me as a kid. Then he shook his head, as if he dismissed a thought that was ridiculous, and slipped his hands into his pockets.