Page 154 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

I don’t fuckin’ trust Nico. Not by a longshot. I agree with Marco’s assessment that he’s not interested in being head of his family, just in the few hours we’ve been around each other, but I need to know a couple of things before I decide what to do.

I poke Nico, pulling my headphones out.

He yawns, pulling the sleep mask up off his eyes again. “Your manners could use some work, cousin?—”

“Are you head of the Drakos family?”

Nico stills. “What?”

“Right now. Are you head of family?”

“I am,” he says, his normally cavalier voice guarded.

“Do you fuckin’ want to be?”

For the first time, all the humor and goofy-ass shit falls from his face.

“No,” Nico says, his voice honest.

“Why?” I demand.

“Because I don’t have the stomach for it.”

I raise an eyebrow.

Nico sighs, his voice low as he leans forward.

“After the De Luca family financially ruined us, your father disappeared. We do not know if he is dead or alive, but we presume him to be dead. My father did not recover from the loss of his brother, his twin. He succumbed to a heart attack nearly a year ago. I have been searching for help since then. Ido not want this,” he says fiercely. “I do not want to be in charge of a failing empire. I do not want to walk into a room and have to… I am not made for it.”

“What are you made for?”

Nico gives the ghost of a grin. “I run a bar.”

“A fuckin’ bar?” I growl.

He nods. “A tourist bar. On an island. The island is our home; it’s been in the family for generations and it is the last thing we have. I love the bar. It’s easy work. The women?” he makes a little kissing face. “Plentiful. Bountiful. I do not care about the Drakos name, so much as I care about the pursuit of things I like. Good wine, good food, beautiful women,” he winks. “I think we have this in common, no?”

“If you talk about Marisol again, I’ll fucking kill you,” I snap.

He sighs. “Relax. Your wife is safe.”

“She’s not…”

Nico looks at me.

I look away. “Mind your fuckin’ business. What do you want from me, in all this?”

He leans in. “The million dollars your brother promised.”

“And?”

Nico assesses me. “And, for you to take the mantle of head of family. We are small. There is only you and I. A handful of enforcers, older than dirt, and some lingering business interests that involve selling tourists fake pieces of the Greek monuments. We were once… mighty. But we are no longer. I have no interest in running the ruins of our empire, or making them into palaces once again.”

Palaces.

I look over at Marisol.

She’s perfect.

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