Page 5 of Stolen Seconds

“And you lack the understanding of when to shut up, but here we are.”

“My apologies,” he drawled snidely, his snickering coming through the line.

As I said before, I had a soft spot for the little shit.

“I need you to come down to the Fort and cleanup for me.” I lit the tip and inhaled a drag of smoke. “I have somewhere to be.”

I didn’t need to say what the cleanup was because, as young as Nico was, he was far more intelligent and lethal than most of our men. This wasn’t his first time getting his hands dirty, either.

“Can’t you call Ric? I’m busy.”

“Busy with your nose buried in some book. I’m sure Shakespeare will still be there when you finish your task.”

“Maybe ifyoupicked up a hobby such as reading, you’d get rid of your morbid one.”

I barked a laugh. He had one hell of a sense of humor. “Killing isn’t morbid, it’s art. Now, get your ass here.”

With that, I hung up and made my way to my bike.

The Fort was in a discreet and secluded part of the city, hard to find and longer to reach. A good hideaway destination from outsiders.

Roman had connections with higher authorities to turn a blind eye to our business, but that didn’t guarantee our immunity.

Crushing the cigarette beneath my boot, I climbedatop my black Harley-Davidson and fastened my helmet before reviving the bike to life.

The drive to my next destination would give me time to cool down my temper.

Did he think I was stupid? If it wasn’t obvious before on who sabotaged the plan, it was when Rocco told me of the threat he was given.

Winters in Italy were a charmer, the lively atmosphere was contagious to a fault, and it never surprised me when tourists roamed through the country during this time of year.

I breezed through the streets until the view of the mansion peeked through the trees, greenery surrounding the ostentatious architecture.

I neared the property, the gates immediately opening for me, and inviting me to my own personal hell.

Riding past the fountain path that led to the front of the house, I parked my bike in the roundabout and cut the engine.

“Luca!”

The sweet voice of my baby sister drifted through the air.

I swear to fuck she had a sixth sense that told her whenever I set foot on the premise.

Before I had a chance to hop off, she tackled me, crushing me into her delicate form.

“When did you get so strong, Eva?” I joked, wrapping my arms around her.

Her hold became firmer, along with the guilt that gnawed at me.

My sister and I had fifteen years between us. One ofus heir to the Changretta and the other a Mafia princess waiting to be wed to the most suitable bachelor. An absolute travesty.

I wasn’t around anymore as much as I used to be, and I knew Eva loathed me a fraction for it. It didn’t matter that she knew our father was the reason why. In her eyes, it was as if I abandoned her.

I ruffled her sandy-brown hair affectionately. “Forgive your asshole of a brother. He’s trying.”

She loosened her hold and stepped back, hurt evident in her green eyes as she stared at me. “Are you here to stay?”

I pursed my lips. She knew I would never come back willingly, yet she asked anyway. Every. Single. Time.

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