Page 17 of Wicked Rivals

When the car turned onto the narrow tree-lined street in Brooklyn, my thoughts had shifted back in time.

The area didn’t feel like part of New York, despite its closeness to the Brooklyn Bridge. I used to imagine it as another world, a place removed from the rest of the city, transformed into a small, nameless town.

For a decade, I had stayed away, ignoring my desire to live another life outside the family business.

Even before my father and brother died, my dream had been nothing but a fantasy, an indulgence my family allowed.

After all, I wouldn’t inherit the business.

They’d done us all more harm than good by allowing me to dream like that.

My life had been simple back then, school two blocks away from Con Amore, a community college that fed students into NYU. I’d planned to transfer and become an English professor who shared his love of literature with bright, eager students.

My fantasy had driven my actions.

The perfect plan.

I would spend my days exploring Shakespeare and Dickens, then go home to a beautiful woman and the loving family we’d created together, where the hardest decision might have been which book to read to our kids before putting them to bed.

Then I would spend half the night making love to my wife

That had been the life I wanted.

Con Amore had been part of the dream too, starting out as a haven for me, my preferred home away from home.

Until everything changed one brisk day about ten years ago.

The day Val started working at the café.

The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Light blue eyes. Rich, dark hair framing her pretty face. Her tight little body, made for me to touch, taste, worship.

I scoffed and pushed my fingers back through my hair, remembering the first thought I’d had about her that day, that she must have been an angel.

Then she let out her wicked laugh, and later, when she took my order, I could see the mischief dancing in her eyes.

An angel alright…e il diavola.

And fucking intoxicating.

Everything had changed for me that day. The café became more than a quiet place to study and focus on my career. It became the place where I counted on seeing Val, where I watched her move around the room, chatting and laughing with customers.

I showed up every day, not for the best cup of coffee anymore, but to hear her throaty laughter when I flirted with her.

After meeting her, my dream evolved from having some faceless, ideal woman to care for my children and keep our home and love me for me to having Valerie.

Always Valerie.

Still Valerie.

In the beginning, she didn't know about my family. I’d used a fake name and never gave her any reason to question it.

Had I felt guilty about lying to her? Absolutely.

After a few weeks, being Stefano Salvatore became quite comfortable, and I didn’t want to let him go. At college and the café, Stefano Vignali, second son of a notorious New York mafia don, my brother’s spare, didn’t exist.

When Val came along, she represented everything young, normal Stefano Salvatore wanted. A happy family. A quiet life without vengeance and violence.

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