Page 13 of Heartless Union

Without a backward glance at her, he left the kitchen …

… and bumped into me in the hallway.

I wanted to melt into the wall. I brace myself for my father to hit me, but he just grunted and kept on walking.

When I looked back into the kitchen, I saw my mom slumped over the countertop, crying her eyes out. I didn’t know what do, so I just went back to bed. I never got my glass of water that night.

“To your impending marriage!” Massimo says, clinking his shot glass against mine. The tequila spills over the edge, and he laughs as he takes his shot.

I set my mine on the table. I don’t need to be getting drunk. Someone could try to kill me when my guard’s down. That’s the way a leader needs to think.

Emilio shakes his head at Massimo’s antics but takes his shot. “You make marriage sound like the gallows.”

“Isn’t it?” Massimo wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Once you’re married, Rocco, you’ll never get to fuck another woman again. How does that feel?”

“Not great now that you mention it.” I take his arm off me and settle into my seat. The nightclub we’re in is busy. A lot of bachelorette parties, it seems. As if I need another reminder of my upcoming marriage.

Massimo laughs. “Now’s your chance to go sleep around before you marry …” He squints. “What was her name?”

“Lara.”

“Lara. Lara,” he says like he’s testing her name on his tongue. For some reason, I don’t like hearing my playboy brother say my future wife’s name. I may not have feelings for Lara, but she’ll be my wife, and that means she’s mine and mine only. “Pretty name.”

“Mmm.”

Emilio sits back. “Is thar your grand advice? Tell Rocco to sleep around?”

“He has before.” Massimo winks at me. “Go get one of those ladies. In fact, I’ll join you. I could use some fun tonight. Emilio, you in?”

Our other brother looks bored with everything, but even he nods.

We’re men, after all. We think with our dicks.

One of the bachelorette party catches my eye. A lot of pretty single girls out having fun for the night.

I head over to one of the women—a pretty redhead. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She bats her eyelashes. “You can.”

I turn to head to the bar when someone bumps into me.

“Sorry,” a man says. I know that voice.

I look at him more closely. “Dante? Dante Romano?

He steps back. “Oh, Rocco. I didn’t see you there.” When he smiles, I assume he means it to be charming. The women eye him over, so they must like what they see, but I don’t get it.

Dante is full of shit. Of course, he knew I was here. This is the nightclub my brothers and I own.

“Have you heard?” Dante asks. “There’s a plot to go after your father’s job.”

I tense. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t say more because I don’t know anything else. Just that rumors are going around that someone might go after him.”

There’s no way Dante knows about my plot. The only ones who know are my siblings and me, and they would never tell another soul.

Dante and I go way back. We attended school together. He was always a pompous asshole then and still is now. His father, Carlo Romano, works with my father, so we’ve bumped into each other over the years, and every time, I’m reminded of why I don’t like him.

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