Page 99 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

“Lonely. I mean, you didn’t even get to be a brother to them if you had to be part father, part brother, part random parent. You didn’t get to have siblings. They got to, among each other, I’d imagine. But if you were constantly policing them, then you weren’t a sibling, Marco.”

Her words shake me, but it feels like they’re shaking something loose instead of breaking me.

I think of Sal, Dino, and Caterina. I love them. No question about it. But, we’re all very different people. The more that I think about it, I wonder how close we really all are.

Or, maybe they’re close.

And I’m not.

I frown. Surely that can’t be right. I comb through my brain, trying to think about how our dynamics play out. Dino struggled to fit in with all of us. Sal and Caterina were close, of course, but the three of them have a dynamic that I’ve never really been able to engage with.

“I guess you’re right,” I say slowly. “They are siblings to each other. And I’m not.”

I’ve never said anything like it out loud before.

Somehow, the acute loneliness inside of me feels… soothed. It’s miserable, of course, to realize that I’ve always thought Dino was the one who was on the outside of our family, and to realize that it was never Dino.

It was me.

God, I’m such an asshole. I’ve been such an asshole to him.

I need to do something with the guilt that’s swamping me.

But at least realizing the fact that I’m the one who has always been apart in our sibling dynamic, feels like the emotion that’s been itching at me is no longer rattling around my chest.

Settled.

I feel settled.

Roisin leans back in her chair. She sighs, and the sight brings my blood rushing back to my cock.

Feeding her, apparently, turns me on.

Then again. There’s very little that doesn’t turn me on about Roisin.

I smirk at her. “Would you like me to give you more?”

The blush that heats her cheeks is worth it. “Food, you mean?” she says, coughing a little around the words.

“Sure.”

Roisin rolls her eyes, her cheeks a marvelous shade of red. “Well. Why don’t I help you clean up first.”

“No way. Why don’t you relax, and I’ll clean up?”

Her eyebrow arches up. “I don’t need special treatment, Marco.”

“Stop. I’ll treat you how I want to. And if that’s cleaning upafter cooking, then you don’t need to do anything about it,” I growl.

Roisin studies me for a second. “I’m not sure if this is bullying, or if you’re trying to do something nice.”

“Take it however you want,” I rumble at her.

She sighs, then stretches. “Fine, I’ll be here in front of the fire.”

I watch her stand and slink to the leather couch. She lies down, and I fetch a blanket, covering her from head to toe.

Sleepy green eyes blink up at me. “Marco…”

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