Page 1 of Born into Sin

Chapter 1

Dominic

Iwatch my father take his last breath as I let out the one I’ve been holding. His hand, once so strong, grows limp in mine while I try like hell to feel something, but there’s nothing there. I feel empty and vacant, the same damn way I’ve felt for years.

A big piece of my heart died when my sister was murdered, and I haven’t been able to get it back. When we found the sex-trafficking bastard who took her, my father and I took turns torturing him, and it had given us both some much-needed peace, but it could never be enough to take away the pain of losing her. We both knew that going into it, but it hadn’t stopped us from trying.

That was eighteen years ago, and I still carry around the pain of losing her. It might have dulled over the years, but it’s still there, and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it will never go away. The truth is I’m not so sure I want it to. It’s the last piece of her I have, and I’m not willing to part with it.

Squeezing my father’s hand one last time, I stand and then let it go. He’d held out longer than I thought he would. Isabella’s death nearly killed him, especially after losing our mother only a few years earlier, but his anger and need for revenge had kept him going. After he’d gotten it, he’d held onto the anger until he couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer. The doctor said the stroke was a long time coming. I have to agree with him on that. I never thought he would make it to eighty, but he’d surprised all of us.

When I leave the bedroom, my Uncle Salvatore is ready and waiting. One large, beefy hand squeezes my shoulder as much as the arthritis will let him while he pats my cheek with the other.

“You were born to lead this family, Dominic, and you’ve been doing a hell of a job of it ever since Isabella’s death, but now it’s official.”

I nod and scrub a hand over the light beard that’s in need of a trim. I’ve been unofficially running this family for almost two decades. For me, this is just another fucking day of work. The only thing that’s changed is my title. I’m no longer the underboss. My dad’s death means I’ll be addressed as don of this family, and that’s about all that’s changing.

Nodding to my uncle, I walk past him to the hall where two of my cousins are waiting. Dario and Alessandro Alessi lean against the wall, eyeing me cautiously. Whatever they see has Sandro pushing off to give me a respectful nod while saying, “Sorry for your loss, boss. Uncle Antonio was a good man.”

“One of the best,” Dario agrees, smacking my shoulder in a show of comfort, because he sure as fuck knows better than to try and hug me.

“I need a drink,” I tell them, walking past to my office, knowing they’ll follow me. I’ve been in Italy for the last year, and as much as I love my country, it no longer feels like home. I’m anxious to get back to America. I’ve worked hard to make the Alessi Mafia something to be feared, and with the help of an alliance that I never saw coming, I’ve secured more power and wealth than our family has ever seen. The Melnikov Bratva and the Alessi Mafia have control of one of the biggest cities in America, and we intend to keep it that way. My mafia runs the eastern and northern areas now, and the Melnikov Bratva runs the western and southern areas. For the most part, our men stay on our own sides, but there’s always a little bit of overlap. I allow his men to transport shipments through our territory, and they extend the same courtesy to me.

So far we’ve managed to not kill each other. We’ve actually grown quite close over the years, and I tend to think of them more like family—the wilder members who show up to family gatherings covered in tattoos with chips on all their damn shoulders, but family nonetheless.

Pouring myself a whiskey, I motion for the others to grab a glass and then sit down. Dario and Sandro have just taken the two chairs in front of my desk with their own drinks in hand when their dad walks in. I wave a hand at my uncle, making it clear he should just help himself, and once he’s taken the leather seat beside his oldest, he raises his glass in a toast.

“To my brother Antonio, may he finally find the peace that was denied him in life.”

We raise our glasses and drink to my father and the peace that he may or may not have found. I’m on the fence about religion, but I hope my uncle is right. I hope he’s reunited with my mom and Isabella and is at peace.

“So,” my uncle begins, “what are your plans, Dominic?”

I sigh and look out the large window that faces the Ionian Sea. I’ve lived in this house since I was born, and there’s no denying the beauty of the southeastern coast of Italy, but I know where I belong now, and it’s not here.

Looking back at my uncle, I say, “I’m going back to America. I’ve been gone too long as it is.”

He looks like he wants to argue, and when he manages to bite his tongue and keep quiet, I let out a soft laugh.

“That looks painful, Uncle Salvatore. Just spit it out. We’ve always had honesty between us.”

He looks relieved to not have to hold his words back and lets out a sigh at what had clearly been a battle of wills before saying, “Your family is here and your home is here. You should find yourself a nice Italian girl and get married, start a family. You need heirs, Dominic.”

I groan, because I’ve heard this a million fucking times from him, while Sandro lets out a soft laugh because he knows how much I hate the you need to get married to a nice Italian girl talk. “My place is in America now. You know this, and I have no desire to marry.”

The very thought of marriage makes me feel like I’m suffocating, the air slowly being cut off as I’m trapped in a situation I have no desire to be in. I’ve never met a woman I can tolerate for long. A few dates, a few fucks, and then I’m done. I’ve never wanted anything more, and I’ve always been very upfront about that. They want the Alessi name, the money, the designer clothes I can buy them, and the bragging rights of being on my arm. They don’t give a fuck about me, but that’s only fair since I don’t give a fuck about them either.

My Uncle Salvatore refuses to accept my decision to remain single. He’d married my Aunt Maria when he was young, and he swears it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I know my uncle. I know all about his various affairs over the years, but he’s always said that coming home to Maria is what’s kept him sane. He never wanted to be the boss. He’s always been more than happy to be the muscle behind the scenes, but his days of killing are over—about eighty pounds of extra weight and arthritic hands have seen to that. Probably for those same reasons, his days of whoring around are also over.

“It’s not good to be alone,” he tries again. When I meet his dark eyes, he adds, “Isabella would have wanted you to be happy.”

I narrow my eyes at the mention of my sister, letting him know he’s on dangerous ground. He backtracks and holds up one of his broad hands. In his prime those hands were feared, but now he can’t even straighten his fingers out. They remain in a constant bent position that I know he despises. No one enjoys becoming weak, but it’s even worse when that weakness is so obvious to others, especially in our line of work.

“I’m going back to America,” I tell him, my tone making it clear that it’s not up for discussion. “As soon as my father is buried, I’m leaving, and I’m taking Dario and Sandro with me.”

His grey, bushy eyebrows raise at that. I look over at my cousins, not at all surprised to see Sandro grinning while Dario gives me a wary look. I hadn’t discussed this with them, but I need them with me. I’ve divided my time between these two countries long enough. I’m tired of all the travel and stress. My future is in America, and that’s where I need to be. My top men are coming with me.

“What? Why are you taking them from their home?”

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