Page 19 of Vicious Addictions

“And what exactly do you think I’ll figure out?”

“That this life isn’t for you. That Gio, Dom, your mother, and I have bled and fought to give you more than this life could ever bring you. A life where you don’t need a gun to fight your battles.”

“You sound just like her,” I mutter, the bitterness slipping through before I can stop it.

My father’s gaze sharpens instantly.

“Let’s end this conversation before one of us says something we’ll regret,” he warns.

I don’t argue. Because he’s right.

In fact, long before I left for London, saying things we then regretted was starting to become the norm.

“I have to go. We’re about to head out toCasa Bellafor lunch.”

“So Stella told me.” I try to smile.

“You talked to your sister today?” His tone softens at the mention of my sister.

“I did. And I spoke with Marcello, too.”

His expression shifts, hardening somewhat. He’s been doing that a lot lately. It seems that whenever my brother’s name comes up, my father quickly puts on a mask—one I cannot decipher.

“Speaking of which, I think you should have a talk with Father McDonagh,” I add. “His sermons are putting things into Marcello’s head.”

“Are they now?”

“Yeah. He didn’t come right out and tell me what he was thinking, but I got the gist. Somehow, Father McDonagh has convinced Marcello that the devil lives inside him.”

My hackles rise when a heavy silence stretches between us.

“We all have demons, Jude. Marcello isn’t immune to his.”

My stomach twists at how cold he sounds.

“He’s a kid, Papa.”

“No. He’smy son.And as his father, I know what is and isn’t best for him.”

“So you’re not going to talk to the priest?”

“That’s for me to decide. Not you.”

“Dad—”

“I have to go. We’ll talk soon.”

And just like that, the line goes dead.

“The fuck?” I curse, punching the mattress at my sides.

But my puzzlement with my father’s behavior has to take a back seat when I hear a muffled groan coming from under my bed.

I jump up off the bed and flip the covers, only to find Mina Crane squirming out on hands and knees.

“So… this is happening,” she says awkwardly, brushing herself off.

I cross my arms over my bare chest and narrow my gaze at her, only to realize that I’m in my boxers… alone… with the Boss’s daughter—the Boss’s sixteen-year-old daughter.

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