Page 35 of Married with Mayhem

“What are you worried about, Monte?” Sabrina says. “I’ll win and I’ll pay him back with interest.” She stands and grabs her backpack. “Nature calls. Nico, don’t let him hide the photo album. I’m only half finished looking at it.”

I watch her walk to the bathroom. Even in the midst of all my frustration I can appreciate how spectacularly short her pink and white striped skirt is. When the bathroom door swings closed, I smack my brother on the back of the head.

“What the fuck was that for?” he complains.

I peel a stack of cash from my billfold. “Here.” I drop the bills in his lap. “I don’t want her owing you anything.”

He explodes with laughter. “I get it. You only want her indebted toyou, isn’t that right?”

“Little brother, don’t forget that I can still force you to kiss the pavement if you keep getting testy on me.”

“The two of you,” he mutters as he pockets the cash. “I swear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who’s her phone bestie.”

He throws me a look. “We’re just friends. It’s you she asks about every time we talk. And she doesn’t know how to be subtle.”

I have no clue what to do with that information right now.

I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear it. There’s plenty of other shit to worry about.

7

SABRINA

Who knew Monte Castelli could turn into such a joyless stickler for rules?

The last fifteen minutes have consisted of a nonstop lecture about what I’m allowed to say and do at tonight’s card game in the basement of Gino’s.

“If you win,” he says, “don’t gloat under any circumstances.”

“IfI win? You meanwhenI win.” I cut the deck of cards and restore the pack with a flawless riffle shuffle.

Monte assumes he doesn’t have my full attention and moves off the couch to park himself directly in front of me on the coffee table. He’s so close that our knees are nearly touching. The scent of his cologne turns my brain a little giddy.

He leans forward, propping his elbows on his thighs, his expression super serious. “You need to listen to me, Sabrina.”

Monte might be getting on my nerves at the moment but he’s also extremely adorable when he’s being all tense and sincere.

“I swear I’m listening,” I assure him in the midst of noticing the way his Gino’s Pizzeria t-shirt can’t hide the shape of his muscles.

He exhales noisily and runs a hand through his black hair. Everything about his posture screams, “WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH THIS GIRL?”

Really, his panicked attitude is insulting. My entire life has been spent in the company of mafia creeps. I can handle them. I’m not stupid enough to provoke professional killers or shove my winnings in their fat faces. Diplomacy may not be my top skill but I know how to use it when I have to.

“These aren’t good men,” he says.

“Mafia bosses never are.”

He sighs. “They see women as disposable playthings.”

“I’m aware. My father kept a revolving door of mistresses stashed in every borough of the city and added a few on Long Island. I’m sure this bunch is no different.”

He flings his hand in a gesture of annoyance. “Maybe you should change your shirt.”

I look down and see no cleavage. Everything is covered. “What’s your problem with my shirt?”

“It’s a little too tight for game night with mobsters.”

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