AUCTIONED TO HER DAD’S MAFIA ENEMIES: A MAFIA AGE-GAP REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE (AUCTIONED SERIES Book 4)

FIND SOMEONE TO LOVE

“Mio bello.” Mama reaches out to embrace me, pulling me into her warm, soft arms. I stoop to wrap my arms around her, inhaling her familiar scent of jasmine and tomatoes.

“Mama.” I kiss her cheek a little too hard, just how she likes it, and she cups my face with her rough hands, looking me over like she has the power to weigh the value of my soul. I don’t know how she does it, but she always knows when something is wrong.

“Why have you and your brothers been staying at that posto stupido?”

She hates it when we use the city penthouse rather than staying at our estate. I guess she’s lonely now Rosita’s married and on her honeymoon. The last of her babies to fly the nest.

“We have business.”

“You always have business.” She pinches my cheek hard.

“Important business.”

She turns to lead me to the kitchen. Food is always the priority in this house, and she won’t be happy until she’s fed me. “You can tell me,” she tosses over her shoulder, “or I can find out from il pettegolezzo.”

The women’s gossip grapevine reaches far but maybe not far enough to touch Aemelia Lambretti.

“I can’t tell you, Mama. What’s cooking?”

“Wait and see.”

“I bought you some cannoli from that place you like.”

“You did?” I hand her the bag, and she opens it to look inside. She can make great cannoli, but this place does something special with pistachio and rose that she can’t seem to replicate.

“Grazie.” Her beaming face chases away some of the rage I’ve been feeling since the Lambretti issue rose to the surface. She sits me down at the table and assembles a huge plate of veal and pasta. I wolf it down while she watches from the adjacent chair with a satisfied smile. Nothing, literally nothing in this world, makes her as happy as feeding her kids.

“I spoke to your sister. She’s enjoying her honeymoon.”

I dab my mouth. “I don’t think I want to know.”

Her blue eyes narrow beneath a frown. “Don’t be disgusting, Alexis. She’s talking about the hotel and sightseeing.”

I go back to eating.

“She told me that she thought she saw Aemelia Lambretti at the wedding.” Mama arches a brow, and cups her hands over her stomach, smoothing her floral dress.

“Really? She wasn’t on the guest list.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Why did she think it was Aemelia?”

“She said there was a girl serving who looked just like Carmella Lambretti did when she was young.”

“I didn’t notice anyone like that.” I don’t meet her eyes because she’s a hawk for lies.

Mama nods, offering me homemade bread from a bowl to dip up the sauce left on my plate. “Carmella Lambretti was trouble,” she says. “I don’t know why she ended up with that man, Carlo. She was a beautiful girl who settled for the first man to look in her direction, then regretted her decision every day.”

“She did?”

“She wanted your brother.”

That’s news to me. “Which one?”

She crosses herself, closing her eyes as she does it. “Mario.”

I frown, dropping the bread to the plate. “Carmella Lambretti wanted Mario?”

“She looked at him like he was king of the world.”

I used to look at him the same way. My older brother was my world. My protector. My champion. My greatest supporter. He was more like a father, filling the gap our actual father left in our lives, firstly because of the responsibilities of being a boss, and then when cancer stole him. Losing Mario carved out my heart and left a jagged wound behind that has never healed.

“I think he wanted her, too.”

I lean back in my chair considering. “Well, Mario wasn’t selective when it came to women.”

“Not like that.” Mama screws up her face. “Why is your mind always in the gutter?”

“He wanted to have an affair with her?”

Even though the fifties are a long time ago, that era is still alive and well in Sicilian households. Divorce isn’t just frowned upon, it’s forbidden in most circumstances. Mama shrugs. “He’s gone so it doesn’t matter.”

The day we put my brother in the ground, I wanted to go with him. Living on with the pain, not just my own but my whole family’s, felt impossible. It was Luca who held me up, cool and collected even under such terrible circumstances, even though he’d taken a bullet himself. I’ve never seen him cry, even when we went to identify Mario’s corpse. Sometimes I wonder if he even has a heart in his chest but then I see him with Mama and Rosita and watch how seriously he works to keep everyone in our family safe and I know he has enough.

Chiaccherone, Luca’s cat, winds its way around my feet and cries. It heard my voice and thought its master was home and now it’s sad. The stupid animal doesn’t like anyone except my brother. When we’re home, it sits on Luca’s lap, making him look like a Bond villain. He brings him treats in his pockets and kisses him like he’s a baby. No wonder the cat loves him so much.

I nudge it aside with my foot.

“So, this business?”

I use the napkin to wipe my face one last time, my belly now perfectly full. “That was delicious, Mama. Thank you. Nobody cooks like you.”

“Not even Antonio?”

I smirk. “He’s a passable alternative.”

“You all need wives to cook for you. Look at me. I’m old, and not a grandbaby between four children. At mass, they pray for me.”

“Who prays?”

“Everyone.”

“Rosita will come back pregnant.”

Even though thinking about my sister that way makes me want to murder someone, I’d be relieved if it gets Mama off my back.

She repeats the sign of the cross. “Maybe, but you…” She wags her finger at me like I’m a toddler who’s misbehaving. “Don’t waste your time like your brothers. Thirty-two is a good age to start a family. I can help you find a good girl.”

“What about Luca and Antonio?” I’m the youngest of her sons. Why the hell is the pressure to carry on the family name falling on my head?

“You think your brothers can mold around another person now? Luca is like marble, and Antonio is like steel. Don’t leave it too long… I don’t need another brick for a son.”

“Mama.” I stand and dip to kiss her warm soft cheek.

She grips my face between her palms again, assessing me with Luca’s eyes. “This life has taken a lot from me, Alexis. My husband. My son. Don’t let it steal the future of the Venturi name. It’s time.”

“I love you, Mama,” is all I can think of to reply because although there’s never a shortage of women in my bed, none has ever registered as a marriage prospect. What kind of woman can put up with this life; the risks, the dubious conscience we need to hold onto power when behind you there are even worse people looking to steal everything you have. It could only ever be a half measure of love. An expectation for someone to love the parts of me that are acceptable and look past everything else. A love like that isn’t worth it.

I think of Aemelia and the disgusted way she looked at me as I crouched at her feet to wipe her. That disgust I can deal with. I prefer it because it’s honest. The women who look at me like I’m an angel on the inside as well as the outside can never be anything but fake. Disgust turns me on because it’s something I can push against. It’s something that burns with heat like rage and shame.

Mama taps my cheek a little too hard for affection. “I’m going to be dead soon. Find someone else to love.”

***

I call Antonio from the car on my way to meet my crew. “Anything from the rat?”

“Nothing.”

“You think the message has got to him?”

“Who the fuck knows? He’s at the bottom of a well. The coin has to sink.”

“So we wait?”

“We wait.”

I’m not a patient man. Neither are my brothers, and the longer we have to wait, the longer pretty little Aemelia is going to be under our roof.

“How’s the kitten?”

“She has claws.”

I laugh at the idea that little Aemelia Lambretti might have hurt my huge, vicious brother.

“I like claws.”

“So does Luca.”

Our older brother always keeps his life private. If he has a woman, he meets her in secret, and keeps the relationship under lock and key. It’s only through throw-away comments that I suspect the kind of sex he seeks out isn’t vanilla.

“He wants to fuck her?”

“Yes.” Antonio’s tone carries a hint of disapproval, and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, considering.

“And you? Do you want to fuck her?”

“She’s practically half my age.”

“And half your size.”

He snorts. “The little girls always like the big boys.”

Ain’t that the truth. “What about the big boy, Antonio? You thought about what it would be like to declaw the cat.”

“She’s not a bad person,” he says, his tone gentling. “If you were locked in a room, and forced to your knees, you’d have claws, too.”

“Mmmmm… you like her.”

“Idiota.”

“Hey. I know what I see with my own eyes.”

“It sounds like you like her.”

“And I’m not fucking denying it. If I could bend her over the table and fuck her until she screams, I would in a heartbeat, claws and all.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

He makes an interesting point. What’s stopping me? “She’s innocent,” I say. “Her father will value her more this way. If we take that…” Why the hell am I talking myself out of this?

“How would he know?”

That’s a very good point. “She’d lose the fire in her eyes, Antonio. You know the dead expression hookers have. You can’t hide that. And anyway, what the fuck is your game?”

He laughs and sips a drink, making a slurping noise in my ear.

“Because listening to you get excited about pussy like a thirteen-year-old is brightening up my shitty day. That’s why.”

“Like you haven’t thought about it, asshole. When she was wearing that lace dress that showed everything, you’re telling me you didn’t think about it?”

“I’m not dead.”

So I was right. “You think Carlo will come?”

“There are still people who might lean on him if he’s reluctant. His brother is still linked to the Mesinas. This won’t look good for him.”

“When I get my hands on him,” I say, gripping the steering wheel like I’m throttling his stupid fucking neck.

“Join the queue. There won’t be a piece of him left that’s big enough to interest a rat.”

“Would you do it? Come back to die?”

“For my nonexistent virgin daughter?”

“For Rosita.”

“Don’t even fucking joke about that, Alexis, you stupid fuck. I’d cut my own heart out of my chest for her. You know that.”

“Me, too,” I say. “Me, too.”

When I hang up the phone, I consider what will happen if Carlo doesn’t come back. How will Aemelia feel to know her own father wouldn’t give up his life for hers? The thought of her having to face that sadness and humiliation makes me sick to my stomach.noveldrama

What do we have in this life if we let go of our honor and our family?