Page 69 of Sinister Intentions

Matt chuckled bitterly, running a hand through his dark hair. “Vince’s mom died when he was only twelve.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I snapped my gaze to Vince, who was poking at the food on his plate.

Oh, shit—major foot-in-mouth moment.

I had been ten when I lost mine, and without my father and my sisters, I would’ve never gotten over it. I couldn’t imagine twelve-year-old Vince losing his mother while being the oldest, and with his father being the way Matt described, having no one to lean on. That thought sent shivers down my spine.

“Hero’s, Dante’s, and my mom is around somewhere,” Matt continued nonchalantly, gesturing vaguely with his hand.

“She’s in Ibiza right now,” Dante interjected.

“And Isa and Mira’s mom…she was just an affair and never in the picture,” Matt said and concluded the glimpse into their disjointed family structure.

Silence hung heavy in the air.

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent, my thoughts swirling in a storm of sympathy and confusion. This was the reality of the Salvini family—hidden beneath layers of power and wealth. A broken family bound by blood, loyalty, and shared burdens.

Vince asked Alex about Gabe, and Hero joined their conversation and talked about his last call with Cristiano Falcone. Apparently, the Falcone brothers and Salvini brothers were all very close to each other.

I took a bite.

Dante elbowed me in the side and grinned. “Are you shocked? We’re pretty dysfunctional for a good Catholic family, aren’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm that didn’t quite match the look in his eyes.

“You seem to get along okay, though,” I said, and Matt grinned at me from across the table.

“We love each other. Maybe even more so because we grew up the way we did.”

Maybe.

Or maybe because of Vince—bearing the brunt of his father’s cruelty, shouldering the weight of expectations, and standing strong, protecting his siblings, caring for everyone, and keeping them together. Somehow, for some strange reason, I could totally see that.

I wanted to dig deeper into his past, and the urge to understand him—to peel back the layers and see the man beneath—which had been simmering for a while, intensified and became almost overwhelming. I stole a glance at him across the table, and his dark eyes met mine again. His face was a mask, and his dark eyes conveyed nothing. He was completely unreadable.

How could one man have so many vastly different sides?

I’d gotten glimpses of that softer side of him this afternoon. But then, there was also his ruthless, dominant side. The one he’d shown me more than anything else.

No warmth, no softness—only…coldness and strength.

He narrowed his brows, and my heart suddenly beat faster until he focused back on his conversation with Hero and Alex.

I looked down at my plate.

This was not a fairy tale, and Vince Salvini wasn’t a tragic hero or a helpless child.

He was a dangerous man—a man I should keep my distance from.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet Isabella and Mirabella tonight,” I said.

Matt chuckled. “I think you would like each other. You’re close in age and, from what I’ve seen, similar; you share a spunk level.”

I stared at him. “Spunk?”

Nobody had ever called me spunky. But I somehow liked it.

“They are also completely spoiled brats who practically live with Vince whenever they come home from college,” Dante said witha shake of his head. “He complains about it constantly, but we all know he secretly loves having them around.”

I blinked, surprised by this new piece of information. “Is Vince’s girlfriend okay with that?” I asked, trying to sound as if I was just making conversation, not burning to hear the answer to that question.

---