Page 60 of Dirty Mafia King
“I caught the little shit out there digging with a plastic shovel like he was searching for dinosaur bones.” Another rumble escapes him as it suddenly dawns on me. It’s easy to see how Sandro’s serious personality comes from his father. But what’s less obvious yet ten times more enlightening is his influence on Renzo’s. Is this the reason I’m enraptured by Bastian? The heady combination of “do I dare?” and “I don’t mind if I do?”
“Make a list of supplies for school.”
“Okay,” I quickly reply.
“Give it to Freido along with the registrar information.”
I shake my head. “My father will pay my tuition—it’s the least he can do.”
“Like fuck he will.”
I stare at him. Bubbles cling to his broad chest. Five-o’clock shadow dusts his jawline. Wet curls hang around his face. He’s as naked as the day he was born, sex on legs, and names his twins after Italian artists.
“Eyes up here.”
I gasp, caught red-handed.
“Mac or PC?”
My eyes widen. “Mac.”
“You’ll have one by tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “Um…” Go on. Ask him. If financing college was this easy…
“I’d like to invite a friend over.”
“No unvetted visitors. You understand why.”
“She’s … vetted.”
His eyebrows knot. “Who?”
“Her father works for you. Her name’s Zoey.”
“The arsonist?”
I’m taken aback. But Sebastiano Beneventi is running this kingdom, so not much escapes his notice.
“Zoey Mangioni?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head no.
I frown. Can I have a little more Renzo without any Sandro, please? “It was an accident.”
“Is that what she told you? You can’t be that stupid.”
Stupid? I stiffen. What. A. Jerk. “A vaping canister—”
“You’d like to hang out with a girl who has no gag reflex and who’s deep throated every man on the estate?”
I’m horrified. “Every man?”
You?
Hurt, betrayal, anger collide. I’m not stupid, but I am naive. So freaking naive. I’m a toy he’s decided to play with while the other toys are … recovering. Pull me in. Twist my emotions. Seduce me with his body and his words. Fire me up. Then snuff me out like a used cigar.
