Page 7 of Snowed in with the Mafia

Luca is silent. An observer. A man who can torture you for days on end but is gentle enough to nurse a tiny fucking bird back to health.

Vince, on the other hand, is always ready with a smile and full charm, all while he slits your throat and winks at the prettiest woman in the vicinity.

Me? I’m just cold-hearted. As the oldest of the three of us by nothing more than a few months, I’ve taken on the responsibility of ensuring we adhere to the intricacies of our bloodline, the age-old traditions that make us who we are. I won’t be swayed outside of what our legacy dictates. Luca and Vince are happy to follow my lead.

As laid down in the ancient FalchiLa Regola, an heir must be born to the heads of the Falchi by the time they reach the age of thirty. She must be bred here at the cabin,Deflorare—directly translated to mean deflower. Her blood must anoint our cocks before thele fiamme—the flames—so the gold falcon above the fireplace will absorb her innocence through its mouth and warm her body for her masters, so she may bear our heir.

She doesn’t have to be of noble birth, just a virgin. And as with all our predecessors, we consulted with the Vergine Selettore, who holds the records to the virgin registry for men of our caliber.

She will only ever be the property of the Falchi now, cataloged as one of the many treasures in our coffers, already filled with art, gemstones, jewels, deeds, luxury estates, and rare collectibles. A valuable asset, that is all she is.

In our world, it’s not about greed. Wealth equals control. Possessions equal power. She’ll be branded as the property of the Falchi, untouchable by all other men for the rest of her life and beyond.

Does she understand she signed her soul over to us?

That our mouths would suck on her, our teeth would leave our mark on her? Our hands would hold her body in place while we drive our cocks deeply into her sweet, soft cunt. She’ll cry out our names as she struggles to take the thick width and substantial length of our shafts into the tightness of her pussy, and then she’ll thank us for choosing her.

We’ve claimed every single part of her: every strand of her dark, luscious hair, every inch of her body. No other man will dare to look at her again. She’s ours.

I dismiss the hold the stunning beauty before me has on me. I ignore the way my heart beats differently. She’s nothing but a rare possession, I remind myself. The only place she belongs is in our bed, her body spread for us whenever we please. We’ll eat from her, drink from her, and fill her up with our cum, night after night. She’ll bear our children and want for nothing.

But if something happens to her beyond us, we’ll feel nothing. Love, or any other such affections, has nothing to do with it. As heads of the Falchi Family, we’ve been brainwashed from any emotion that would expose us, make us vulnerable.

We’ve been conditioned to not feel any kind of romantic love, a sentiment that suits my cold heart. The only thing that matters to me is my allegiance to the Falchi. Nothing else.

But it doesn’t explain why I’m holding my fucking breath, waiting for her to part her lips so I can hear her voice.

Doesn’t explain why I can’t stop fucking looking at her.

Luca better not be fucking right about her. No, he’s not right, I tell myself.

My motto is always to keep your enemy closer.

Chapter Seven

Alessia

I drag myself out of the stupor of seeing them and try to pull myself together.

Aunt Martina’s voice cracks in my head with all the rules I have to follow in their company: always submissive and demure, head bowed, softly spoken, kneeling when I’m told without question, as if they’re kings with more money than God. Well, they are kings in a way; they’re certainly dressed that way in their designer black suits that do nothing to hide the virility and masculinity of their bodies, I guess. But they’re the kings of the underground mafia world, not my world.

I raise my chin, square my shoulders, straighten my spine, and open my mouth to speak, except nothing comes out on my first try. I need to get my internal trembling under control. I think about Gianna and the farm and how vital my mission is to ensure we can finally be done with my crooked uncle and his abhorrent family.

“Masters,” Eileen bows her head and speaks softly. “May I present Lady Alessia, the virgin of the family Conti. Lady Alessia, Master Nico Santoro, Master Luca Armano, and Master Vincenzo Rosso.”

Okay, so the guy with the darkest eyes, the sternest jawline, and the one who makes me want to kneel without being asked is Nico. The guy with the curious gaze and calm demeanor, the one who seems to look at me and know all my secrets, is Luca. And the guy with the unbearably sexy eyes, a perpetual grin on his face, and who looks like he’s there to push my boundaries, is Vincenzo. Not that any of that matters. I think of them collectively as the Falchi.

“Lady Alessia. We’re honored you accepted our invitation,” Nico says, and the commanding, deep, rough tones of his voice catch me off guard and displace me so far outside of myself that I whip my head back up to look at him so I can find my way back again.

What? No.

“Welcome toDeflorare,” Vincenzo says, offering me a smile that makes my heart beat even faster. His voice is deep and velvety but also dark and sultry, and the lazy grin on his face carries into the lilt as well. And he makes my nipples sing.

Just no.

Yes, the cabin is calledDeflorare, and I’ve been avoiding taking its literal meaning. Well, not me, and not today.

“We hope you found everything to your liking.” Soothing gentleness lines the rough gravel in Luca’s voice, and he makes it known he is intrigued by me. “Have you eaten?” he adds, and his magnetic pull makes me think he cares about my well-being.

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