Page 71 of The Mob Boss' Pet

Memories of his punishments flood me, and I click off the browser. Whatever he’s decided to do with his family is for him to deal with. It’s not my business. It never was.

The only thing he needed me for was to take care of Roberto and service Vincenzo when he was in the mood. I was never anything more than a pet for him to play with for a week. Just someone to use and toss to the side when he was finished.

There’s no love in that man. He doesn’t know the meaning.

I click the browser again. Another article has a picture of Anton standing before the judge at his bail hearing. Vincenzo is in the back row of the courtroom. Not too close to give support, but not completely abandoning him either.

Tears start to well in my eyes again and I log off the computer. I have to let him go.

He didn’t want me.

And I shouldn’t need him.

But I do.

Chapter Twenty-Two

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Vincenzo

“What you’re saying is if he takes the deal, he’ll be out on parole in five years.” Roberto leans toward Anton’s attorney.

I’ve taken this meeting at Roberto’s request. The last month has been hard on him, watching our brother in his orange jumpsuit brought into court for his arraignment. I’ve stuck to my decision. Anton’s received no help from our family. This jackass sitting across from my desk, with his thick-rimmed glasses and salon-colored hair, is on Anton’s payroll.

“Yes. If he takes this deal, he has a good chance of parole in five years. If he takes his chances with the jury, it could be twice that,” he says, folding his hands in his lap.

“Okay, then. I mean, it’s the smart thing to do,” Roberto announces. “He’ll take it, right?” He swings his gaze over to me. I shrug, which earns me a scowl.

“I told you, I want nothing to do with this.”

He pinches his lips together and huffs a breath through his nose.

I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I lean forward and point at the attorney. “Take the deal to him and tell him the family thinks he should take it. The decision is his.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll see him this afternoon.” He picks up his briefcase and stands. Either I make him uncomfortable or his shoes are on fire. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Manetto.” He bows his head to me like I’m some sort of royalty, then shuffles out of the office.

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