Page 19 of The Last Vendetta

“She married him and can’t fucking show up?” I hissed.

“She’s always been… delicate.”

I huffed, nodding at people as they entered. This tradition of greeting guests before the ceremony didn’t make much sense to me, but I appreciated the chance to notice who was where.

And who doesn’t bother to show up.

“Delicate. But you wanted Luka to marry her.”

“Don’t start,” Gio warned.

“Is she hiding?” I wondered aloud.

“It hardly matters now.”

I squinted at him, amazed that he could be this dumb. Cecilia was the first one who noticed Luka was dead. Of course that woman mattered in all of this.

Before I could speak with him any further, the Acardis arrived.

Isabella held her head up high, scanning the crowds as Rocco sighed. He nodded at me and Gio, a weak acknowledgment of a greeting, but like usual, he didn’t seem happy to be there. Giulia followed her parents inside, dipping her chin at me, then Gio.

I bit the inside of my cheek, watching this gorgeous woman as she made brief eye contact with me. That mere glance of her dark-brown gaze heated me up, and all I could think of was how she’d gasped against my mouth when she came. Licking my lips, I fought a growl of need, knowing that this wasn’t the time nor place to be fantasizing about tasting her tartly sweet lips again.

This was the first time we’d encountered each other since I snuck out of her room. I had no clue when I’d be able to steal another moment with her again. I was already overtaxed and too busy with this investigation into Luka’s death and taking over his role. Being interrupted from playing with her or fucking her sweet pussy was a punishment I didn’t want to suffer, but I knew that I couldn’t afford the distraction of wanting her.

I had to focus. I had to avenge Luka, and staring at this raven-haired beauty was not going to help that cause at all.

I straightened, severing this pull to stare back at her, and she moved along after her parents.

Telling myself to focus didn’t do a damn thing. All through the funeral ceremony, I fought the nagging draw to her. More than once, I caught myself turning her way and hoping to make eye contact. Simply knowing she was near had me on edge, and it became a habitual torture to forbid myself from seeking her out.

At the wake, I struggled even more. She remained near her parents, but without the setting of the church dictating that we pay attention to the priest and the casket holding my brother, it felt like a game to walk past each other without stopping to speak.

Even if I did find a chance to snag her and tug her aside for a private moment, I knew better than to take that risk.

Tensions ran high. Unlike the fake respect people showed at the church, here, over food and drinks, guests seemed looser and more prone to arguing.

No one got along, and as I finally headed toward the bar for a drink, I rubbed my brow and figured war would break out sooner than later.

Aside from the usual scrimmages and disagreements that always peppered the conversations in our world, accusations continued to be flung all over the place. No one was coming out and accusing anyone of killing Luka, but lips were loose. People talked.

And everyone made sure to keep their drinks close and covered with their hands. I couldn’t blame them for being nervous after the heir to the Bernardi wealth was assassinated at the last party.

Nothing new was learned, though. All through the wake, Gio and I conversed with many. We both checked in with the capos who were listening and sneaking around. This wasn’t just a send-off or mock celebration for Luka’s life. It was an opportunity to spy and learn who might have killed him.

Nothing. That was what we learned. A fat load of nothing. All the guests remained on edge, and the overall vibe of the gathering was one of anxiety.

Nickolas and Rocco fell prey to the tension first. I wasn’t near them when they broke into a fight, but two capos stood by in the parking lot as the men used their fists on each other.

And that was why when Giulia approached the bar, I sympathized with the fatigue and irritation shown on her expressive face.

The whole afternoon and evening, I did my best to avoid her, but I didn’t move away when she made it clear that she was coming for a drink. She looked like she needed it.

“Are they done out there?” I asked, mildly interested.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “I think so.” Casting a glance over her shoulder, she grimaced. “I don’t even want to know what that was about.”

I shrugged. “Tensions are high.”

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