Page 57 of The Last Vendetta

I shot her a dubious look. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. I was asking my guard about the rivalry between our Families. It’s like we said. We were raised to know the other is the enemy.” She flicked her finger back and forth between us. “But we never knew why.”

“Lots of Families don’t get along in our world.” While the Bernardi name was a rival of the Acardi’s, others operated around and beneath us. If any one of the patriarchs slipped and lost power, another would swoop in and take it for themselves. Or arrange a coup. Or stage turf wars to conquer more. It was a never-ending game of movable pieces and ulterior motives.

“He seemed to think that it had to do with our parents not getting along.”

I glanced at her again, smirking. “I wouldn’t be surprised. But it makes it more ironic that you and I…”

She huffed, shaking her head. “There is no you and I. We’re co-conspirators in going to talk to Cecilia. I want to know who killed my father, and that ties into your wanting to know who killed your brother.”

I took her hand and held it tightly. Instead of pushing away, she twined her fingers with mine, belying what she said.

“What about this pull to each other?”

“It’s just physical.” She swallowed hard and looked out the window.

It was physical. A visceral, gnawing need to touch and be close. But I was starting to suspect that it might be more than that.

“Speak for yourself.”

She sighed. “Renzo. Don’t. Please.”

I ground my teeth, pulling over on the highway to slam the car into park. She gasped at the sudden stop, and with her caught unaware, I lunged over to kiss her.

Hard.

She parted her lips as I sealed my mouth over hers, and just like every other time, a sweeping wave of desire lit me on fire. Cupping the back of her head, I kept her close so I could devour her. It’d been far too long since I’d had a sample of her sassy taste, of earning her sexy mewls and feeling her tongue duel with mine.

“The only time I want to hear you say please is when you beg me to fuck you again.”

She moaned, tipping her face up for a longer, deeper kiss. As she threaded her fingers through my hair, I shivered at the scrape of her nails on my scalp. If she kept this up, we’d both be a shaking mess of need.

“But we can’t,” she argued weakly as she twisted in her seat to crawl closer.

“Do you really think it’s possible to tell ourselves no?”

She kissed me again and again as she grappled with her seatbelt buckle. I guided her, welcoming her into my embrace as she crawled over to sit in my lap. It was a tight fit, snug with her straddling me. Behind her, the steering wheel trapped her flush against my chest. Within my arms, I fought the nagging thought in the back of my mind that warned this wasn’t wise.

I didn’t understand how something so forbidden, something so wrong, could feel so damn right and good.

As she made out with me, moaning into our kisses, she clung to me like she feared ever letting go.

“You can’t be with him,” I insisted.

She shook her head, out of breath as I cupped her face to stare into her eyes.

“I know.” She licked her lips, torturing me. “But I can’t be with you, either. My mother—Gio—they’d never allow it.”

I couldn’t refute that, and kissing her silenced my need to reply.

“I won’t be with him,” she whispered as she rubbed over me.

I held her ass, urging her to grind over my erection, and kissed along the sweet flesh of her neck.

“I’ll run. Whatever I need to do to avoid a life with him.”

I dug my fingers in her cheeks, gripping her tighter as though I could hold on and prevent her from disappearing in the flesh.

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