Page 8 of Sinister Intentions

Fuck.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

My father. Talk about the devil. I clenched my jaw and took the call.

“Did you give them the invite?” my father said as soon as I picked up. His cold voice and heavy Italian accent immediately grated on my nerves.

“Yes, dinner on Saturday night at the villa,” I said, and my father dropped the call without saying anything else.

That was our relationship in a nutshell: him barking orders, me swallowing my pride, which was getting harder and harder.

“I’m not coming,” Matt said.

And now Matt was being difficult.

This was the last thing I needed on top of the ongoing hack that had caused a bleeding of money from the online gambling part of our business—the part I suggested, implemented, and pushed against my father’s will. My pièce de résistance in the ongoing turf war between my father and myself.

I didn’t need my family to turn against me—at least not my brothers—not right now.

I let the silence hang for a few moments between us. “I’m just asking for half a year, tops. Just play along for now, keep her…ahem…them distracted and off-balance.”

Matt turned back to me, an incredulous look on his face. “Keep her distracted? Her, not them? From what exactly? You’re really pushing my buttons here. What exactly is going on between you and that mob princess? And since when do you care about keeping our enemies distracted instead of outmaneuvering them?”

My knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as I took the on-ramp on our way towards the helipad, which was outside the city limits. “I’ve got my reasons. You’ll understand soon enough.” I glanced into the rearview mirror and filed away the marks and models of the cars surrounding us while weaving through traffic.

He let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. “Whatever you say, bro. But I’m not getting in the middle of your twisted games with Jemma Donnelly. I just barely survived; I’m not ready to risk my life again so soon.”

I shot him a look and growled, my voice low and with an edge. “I’m not engaging in twisted games with Jemma Donnelly.”

The silence that followed was heavy. His way of telling me I was full of shit.

Which I was.

Because completely unexpectedly, Jemma Donnelly—in person—was very different than on paper. More innocent, fiercer, a lot prettier, and very unsettling. “This isn’t a game.”

He stared at me, then turned away. “Whatever you say, brother.”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as we rode in tense silence. We left the city area behind us and exited the highway—as did a black Mercedes behind us. Part of me wanted to confide inMatt about the hack that drained our coffers—the faceless online threat that had been gnawing at me for weeks.

Hurting my ego for weeks.

There were also my father’s latest moves to shut me out and destabilize my position in the business and in the family. What was he after? Setting up Dante or Hero as his successor instead of me? Pitting us against each other? Or did he realize how much influence he’d lost already, and he was trying to come back from that? Was there someone whispering into his ear?

Fuck.

Matt was one of my closest confidants, my little brother who’d always had my back no matter what. But something held me back from spilling everything. Call it stubbornness or pride, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit I wasn’t as smart, invincible, and tough as I’d thought or pretended to be.

And the fact that I’d failed to get a handle on the hack situation wasn’t helping either. All of this was even worse since I’d been the one to champion our expansion into online gambling over my father’s—and his cronies’—objections.

I couldn’t, under any circumstances, show any weakness.

Not right now, not ever.

No, Matt didn’t need to be burdened with my mess. Especially not now when he was still healing from his near-fatal wound.

Especially not right now. He was still so carefree in so many ways despite being in his late twenties. He had been the eternal optimist in our family.

At least before he left for Malta.

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