Page 16 of Little Dove

“No, but he isn’t good enough for her. He’s not the type to settle down. The only reason we haven’t killed him is that Sofia would never forgive us. It also doesn’t help that she hid their relationship from us. We only found out about it when we arrived in New York, when the whole situation with Gia and Nico started.”

“But didn’t you just say that she told you she isn’t interested in marriage or settling down? If he doesn’t want that either, they sound like a good match. And if he’s treating her well, then what does it matter?” Then her mouth twists into a saucy grin, and her eyes sparkle with mirth. “Or can you not handle the idea of your sister having hot sex without any strings attached?”

Disgust fills me, and I glare at her. She laughs wickedly.

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely the reason.”

“Shut up,” I huff. “All I know is, if the fucker ever hurts her, he’s going to die a slow and painful death.”

“Hard to hurt someone when you’re not emotionally invested,” she reminds me. “But sure, you plan all of that out. If your sister is anything like you, I doubt she’s going to take it well.”

“She’d rather stab me in the balls than punch me,” I mutter, but not low enough that Amara doesn’t catch it.

“There you go. I like her already. What about your brothers? What are they like? I assume they’re both giants like you?”

“We’re all tall, yes. Alonzo is an enforcer like me, though I’m specifically assigned to be head of security for Alessio. Alonzo moves between all the Caruso brothers and Pietro, depending on where they need him. Urso is more of a soldier, but lately, he’s taken after our father’s interest in gathering information and intelligence. He’s a whiz with computers and getting things that we need fast.”

“And what does your father do?”

I nod. “He’s a nosy son of a bitch, so it suits him, but he’s head of security for the Don now.” I smirk.

“Who do you take after most? Your father or mother?”

That gives me pause. My automatic reaction is to say my father, but that’s not fully true.

“I have my father’s logistical mind but my mother’s stubbornness,” I finally say with a smile. “My father is an excellent soldier. He trained us all to be as well, even the Caruso brothers, because he knew what we needed. My mother, though, she was so damn stubborn, and her temper was legendary. My father has those moments, like I do, but she let it out far more often than he ever did.”

I chuckle as a memory pops up. “When I was about seven, Papa came home late, having spent a little too long with Don Caruso, smoking cigars and drinking the finest scotch money can buy. My mother slaved all day over a delicious meal for him and the Don, who was supposed to come at our father’sinvitation. She took the entire pot full of leftovers and threw it at him.

“I’m still shocked she lifted the damn thing, but she did. Somehow, he avoided getting hit in the chest with the pot, but he was drenched in broth and splattered with cold food.” I grin wickedly. “My father knew he was screwed, and she let him have it. Yelling and cursing, she called him and Pietro every name in the book for daring to disrespect her invitation, her cooking, and her time. Especially when she was dealing with us boys—we were a handful then—and Sofia was still just a baby.”

Amara’s eyes are wide. “What did your father do?”

“He let her rant and rave, then he stepped over the mess, pulled her in, and held her until she calmed down. He let her kick and push at him for a little bit, and he apologized and promised to never do it again. Then he got to work cleaning it all up, sent her to bed, and handled us for her. He wasn’t late the next night or any afterward unless Pietro needed him for business, which he always made a point to tell her about. And Pietro wasn’t long in coming over with flowers and an apology of his own.”

“Did she throw something at him too?” Amara asks.

I laugh. “No, but she gave him a stern tongue-lashing.”

Amara shakes her head. “I’m surprised he didn’t kill her for being so disrespectful.”

“Dolcezza, I promise, Pietro Caruso is not a man you cross, but his wrath is reserved for his enemies. Never for the people he considers family, and that includes all the women and children of his soldiers. He would care for any of them, no matter the circumstances. With him and my father being the best of friends, he adored our mother. She was there with him after things ended badly with his wife and was a surrogate mother for Alessio and his brothers. To know she was so angry with him would havehurt him deeply. So he took her tongue-lashing, and then he bartered with her to make him one of her famous tiramisus.”

“It’s just hard to align that with the mafia you described earlier.” She gives me a skeptical look. “They sound far too human.”

“We are all human, dolcezza. It may not seem like it to those on the outside, but we all bleed and die like everyone else. We just do it in ways that the masses don’t understand.”

Her expression is thoughtful as she stares at the table, seemingly digesting my words. I don’t know if that’s something to worry about or not. Finally, she nods and says, “I suppose you’re right. No one thinks of a criminal organization as having normal families, so it’s hard to imagine.” Then she looks at me. “You said you’re best friends with the Don’s sons?”

I smile. “We’re all about the same age, so it just made sense. There were other kids around, and we did spend time with them, but the Caruso brothers and us just clicked. I’m closest with Alessio since he’s only a few months younger than me, but I still consider Massimo and Zeno in my group of closest friends. We had a few skirmishes growing up, but we always worked them out amongst ourselves. I think it helped that none of them ever pulled rank on us, even though they would have had every right.”

“But they do now?”

“If they need to because of their roles, they do, but it’s natural now. When Alessio gives an order, I respect it, and I know that whatever he’s decided, I can follow without thinking he’s just trying to swing his dick around. Same with the others. Maybe that’s why we’re so good at what we do, but it works.”

She gives me an envious look. “You know, I used to wish for people like that in my life. Brothers and sisters that would come one day, and everything would be perfect. But even then, I knew that was a pipe dream.”

Anger rises in me at the reminder of everything she’s suffered. “Did you not have anyone that treated you kindly?”

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