Soulless Devil (Sons of Valentino #3)(33)

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to spend both of your shares of inheritance on hookers and strippers. It’s what you would have done anyway.” Matteo laughs, following Luca and me into our father’s office.

I know my old man. He’s intimidating. I’ve seen him in action, and let’s just say the fact that he can still sleep at night after the things he’s done is a damn miracle. Am I scared of him though?

Not even in the slightest. He might yell, throw something or even go for a slap across the back of the head. But we’re his sons. There is nothing more important to him than family. Well, making Mom happy has always been his number one priority in life. It just so happens that our mother loves us a whole lot, so to keep her happy, he needs to keep us alive.

My twin and I share a wordless conversation. “Do not crack under pressure,” we each tell the other without actually saying anything. I don’t know how we do it, but we’ve always been able to just know what the other is thinking. We stand in front of his desk. Pops doesn’t look up at us; instead, he continues reading through whatever paperwork he is scanning. When he does glance our way, I realize he was probably just counting to ten in his head to try to stay calm.

“Do you have any idea how fucking stupid the two of you are?” he yells, glaring at me and then Luca.

We side-eye each other. Smirking, I turn back to Pops. “Well, if we knew how stupid we were, Pops, we probably wouldn’t be stupid, now, would we?” I duck just in time to avoid the stapler that’s aimed where my head was.

Pops’s finger points at me, then my twin, and then back to me again. “It stops now. There will be no more underground fighting empires in this family.” That finger moves over to Luca. “And you will not get involved with any fights at all, you hear me. You’re fucking lucky you can still throw at all after the bullet you took last year.”

Pops ain’t wrong. My brother got shot last year at our cousin Lily’s house in Australia. Some fuckers thought they could break in and attack her. We weren’t about to let anyone get to her. Pops hasn’t gotten over that incident yet. You’d think as a Don of the most ruthless fucking crime family in New York, he’d be able to handle seeing one of his own kids take a bullet. But, no, he’s more protective than Mom sometimes. And that’s saying something because our mother is the very definition of an angry momma bear.

“What do you think your mother is going to say if she finds out about this stunt of yours?” he asks, rubbing his temples.

“Wasn’t planning on her finding out, Pops,” Luca says.

I turn and glare at Theo and Matteo, who are laughing their asses off behind us. When did Theo sneak in?

“You really are fucking dimwits, aren’t you? You still think you can hide shit from her? Well, it’s your funeral,” Theo grunts.

“Come on, Pops, it was just a few fights. No one got hurt,” I try to reason with our father.

Theo slaps me across the back of the head, at the same time Pops says, “Tell that to the guys being wheeled out on gurneys.”

“Ah, what the fuck?” I growl at Theo.

“Do you two really think I have nothing better to do than come and bail your asses out of shit every other fucking day? Start smarting the fuck up.” Theo stomps over to the wet bar—someone got up on the wrong side of the fucking bed this morning.

“Dinner’s ready!” Mom’s voice rings out through the intercom on the wall, like a saving grace. And Luca and I practically bolt from the room. Dinner is the very best excuse to get out of any further interrogations.

“This conversation isn’t over, you two,” Pops calls from behind us.

“Yes, boss,” Luca and I say together.





Chapter Eighteen





I know I shouldn’t be pining for Romeo right now, but I am. Somehow, in the last couple of weeks, I’ve let him creep under my skin to the point that I’m missing him. Which is stupid. I barely know him. Well, I know how good he is at handing out orgasms, and he’s super attentive and passionate about whatever it is we discuss. I know that he’s a lot brighter than he lets on. I also know that whatever is keeping him away this weekend can’t be good.

He did message me on Friday, saying a family thing came up. Is that family thing just the weekly dinner he told me that his mom makes them all attend? I really do hope that’s all it is.

Deciding that I’m not going to get much studying done tonight, I pack up my books. I was planning on sitting in the library until I got kicked out. Sandra is staying at her parents’ place until tomorrow, and I didn’t feel like being stuck in the dorm room alone. I’m alone here too, but I’m also surrounded by other students. And it’s not as lonely. Walking out the library doors, I pull my coat closed tighter and hitch my backpack up on my right shoulder.

It’s getting colder and colder. I’m not used to such cold winters. Back home it was cold, but not like this. The icy wind chills me to the bone. Or is it the feeling that I’m being followed? Watched? I crane my neck around, but I can’t see anyone. I need to remember to thank my father for making me so paranoid all the time. My pace quickens. I have just a few more minutes, a few more steps, before I reach my dorm. As soon as I’m inside, I’ll be fine. This anxiety, fear, it will ease once I’m passed those doors. I can see the building and immediately start to relax. That’s until I hear thudding footsteps approaching from behind me. I turn around and freeze as a pair of hands swipe out and grab me. One covers my mouth, while the other holds the back of my head.