Page 145 of Sins of the Orchid
The news of the marriage contract shocked her as much as it shocked me when I first found out about it. Unlike me, she was passionately and stubbornly opposed to it. I knew she’d be against it even before she openly opposed it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. The rejection kind of hurt.
We’d been best friends for a very long time. I cared about her, loved her.
“Would marriage to me be so bad?” I questioned her. She was the only long-term woman in my life. Maybe there was a reason for it and this was it.
Marriage didn’t seem like such a bad idea to me, though I wasn’t thrilled about not working in the Cosa Nostra. I never thought of doing anything else. I was in it for life, but now I have been given a way out. I figured once we were married, we could discuss my position in the Cosa Nostra. I wanted to be Santi’s underboss.
“Adriano, you don’t love me,” she murmured softly, her hands wrapping around her small body. Over the last few years, Amore has grown into a beautiful woman. A knockout. But somehow she slipped right through my fingers. Less and less she sought comfort from me.
“I do love you,” I retorted stubbornly.
“Like a friend,” she insisted. “And I love you like a friend. But marriage is a lot more.”
“Then we make it more,” I claimed with conviction. I could be just as hard-headed as her.
“Tell me one thing,” she started, her expression serious. “All these years that we’ve been friends, have you ever thought of me as something more?”
Only once, but I was ashamed to admit it, so I remained silent. It would sound bad if I admitted I was jealous when she called out to Santi on her eighteenth birthday.
“Even when I posed as your girlfriend, it never occurred to you to actuallymakeme your girlfriend.”
Her gaze flickered over my shoulder, she tensed as a soft flush colored her cheeks.
“Your brother is here,” Amore mumbled softly, and I turned my head to see Santi standing there. “You better go,” she urged me.
The realization hit me like a thunderbolt. It was there all along in Amore’s green eyes. All over her face. She was in love with my brother. Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, things were finally making sense. It wasn’t only my brother that wanted her; she wanted him too.
Santi went to Italy two months ago. When he came back, he was in an exceedingly good mood. Planned on going onvacationevery weekend. Bullshit, we all called. He hadn’t taken a vacation day away from the Cosa Nostra in his entire life. Yet now, he planned on going every weekend.
Then something happened and he got into it with Savio. It was all about Amore. He even shot Luigi.
Did Santi sleep with my best friend?
“I’m going to go,” I told Amore.
Amore had changed in Italy. Or maybe it happened right before she left for Italy? The night at The Orchid suddenly flashed in my mind. The night I found her flushed in Santi’s office, alone with him. It was the first time I had seen her pissed off at him.
I bent my head and pressed a fleeting kiss to her lips. I had done it many times before, but this was the first time she stiffened at the touch. Before the gesture was friendly, but now… I wasn’t sure what it was now.
“I’ll call you later,” I said softly. “Trust me, everything will work out.”
A dubious look flashed in her eyes, but she quickly masked it. It was another thing she had gotten good at, hiding her feelings.
“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced. Although I couldn’t blame her. Through the years, more often than not, I got her in trouble rather than out of trouble.
Santi always saved her, I thought bitterly. I got her into trouble, and he got her out. No wonder she fell for him.
I strode to Santi, throwing a backward glance over my shoulder. Amore was avoiding looking at my brother.
“Ready?” he asked me as I got closer.
My brother and I weren’t exactly alike, but we were always close. Even when I fucked up shit, he’d give me shit fair and square and we’d move on. However, the last two months we couldn’t see eye to eye on anything.
I understood now why Pà and Santi wanted to push me out of the Cosa Nostra, but just like Amore, I wished I was asked whether I wanted that.
“Yes. Are we stopping at your office?”
Santi was a workaholic. More so lately than ever before. Though it made sense now. He was fuming over Amore.
