Page 48 of Thorns of Death

I was too old for this shit. Too old for her. Maybe I just needed to pull my head out of my ass.

Fuck—no. I wasn’t too old for her, and my head was fine where it was. Isla Evans would be mine, old or not.

But first, I had to solve the Donatella situation. She was another problem entirely, and more than a mild frustration. The fucking woman was nowhere to be found. I half expected her to make her way into my home again. That would make it easy to end her, but she must have learned she had used up her last chance.

Grabbing my phone, I typed a message to Kingston.

Find Donatella while Isla’s in Russia.

Konstantin better keep his baby sister safe, or I’d be the one to destroy his country, not Kingston.

* * *

Work was a waste of time today. A conference call was in progress, with all Omertà families participating. Even Luca DiMauro, although he kept mostly quiet.

I couldn’t concentrate, my mind still stuck on Isla. I hadn’t seen her in a week and sleep was hard to chase. Even after jacking off in the shower, furiously stroking myself. It was as if my cock had zeroed in on the woman with freckles and an emerald gaze and refused to give in unless it could bury itself within her tight folds.

My cock would chafe if I kept this up. I had to fuck her soon.

Oddly enough, the more I thought about marrying her, the more I fucking loved the idea. The thought had always been repelling. Until her.

But there was also underlying fear. The whispers weren’t off base when they claimed every woman who married a Marchetti male ended up dead. Well, almost any. Donatella was still alive, at least for now.

“Are you paying attention, Enrico?” Manuel’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I found his eyes on me, studying me curiously. It was out of character for me to get sidetracked.

“Yes.”

We were on a conference call, but our side was muted. The discussion about what to do with our portion of the Costello product had been cycling through each of the families’ respective offices.

Lykos, the Greek don, got his shipment, which was docked in one of my ports in Italy. His product would be secure until he made the necessary repairs to his yacht and then sailed back to Greece. He had been running a successful operation for decades, and this favor I had done for him would prove to be very lucrative.

The easiest fifteen million I had ever earned, and by distributing the product over the Omertà territories, it would make me another hefty profit while barely lifting a finger. Business was booming.

Except, I couldn’t shake off the worry about the supposed mole within our organization. I was always extra careful to select only the men I trusted with my life into our organization. My brother and father had been the same. The children of men who’d worked for my father came to work for me. We rarely went outside the circle of confidants who had proved themselves to the Omertà over the generations.

Moles usually cost the lives of the entire family, not only the head of it. The worry for my sons always lingered. I taught them from a young age how to defend themselves. Shoot a gun. Fight with not only their strength but with their minds. But it hardly earned me any peace. I didn’t want them to end up dead like my brother.

“It might be good to tie the Costello and Marchetti lines,” I remarked as Romero droned on about some territory dispute in Northern Italy. “Lykos’s youngest is already infatuated with Amadeo.”

And if the arrangement was in place, it’d secure my son’s life if something happened to me. He’d also be under Costello’s protection, not only the Omertà’s.

Manuel gave me a pensive look. “Not a bad idea, but you know he’s a wolf when it comes to his children.”

“As he should be.”

“The Marchetti reputation and dead wives dating back five generations won’t speak well for this union.”

I shrugged. “When I marry Konstantin’s sister and keep her alive, it will be proof enough.”

“So you still plan on going through with it?”

My dick might not survive if I didn’t. I was so fucking infatuated with the young woman that Manuel would make fun of me if he only knew.

“Yes.” The moment I decided to marry Isla I’d begun to put everything in motion, and nothing would hold me back. Not her big brother. Not Donatella. Fuckingnothing. The world might burn. The Omertà might crack… but Isla Evans would still become my wife. “Merging the two families will appeal to Lykos.”

“I think keeping his children alive appeals to him more,” Manuel noted dryly.

“Well, I’ll put a clause in.” My uncle’s brows lifted. “If I manage to keep my wife alive”—and I fully intended to—“the arrangement stands. If I don’t, he can break it off.”