Page 27 of Toxic

5

Dante

4 Years Later

Mamma putsher hand over her chest, pausing mid-sentence. Her cheeks turn red.

"Mamma, what's wrong?" I ask.

Gianni steps closer, putting his hand on her back, appearing as worried as I feel. He exchanges a glance with me.

She smiles. "I'm okay. I think I have some acid reflux."

"This is the fourth time this week," Gianni points out.

"You need to see the doctor," I add.

She squares her shoulders. "I'm fine. Now, which women are gracing us with their presence tonight?" She narrows her eyes on us.

I groan. "Don't start." My mother is constantly nagging us about the steady stream of women we date and telling us to settle down to give her grandbabies. Yet neither Gianni nor I are close to walking down the aisle.

"We're flying solo, and let's skip the lecture," Gianni states.

"You aren't getting any younger," she says, as if we aren't aware, or she hasn't already said it a thousand times.

"What do you need help with?" I inquire, hoping to change the subject.

She sighs then rubs her neck. "Do me a favor and check on Arianna. Make sure she doesn't have that short hot-pink dress on, or your papà is going to have a heart attack."

Gianni grumbles, "You go. I don't want to deal with her whiny attitude tonight."

"Gee, thanks," I reply but head for the stairs. Arianna isn't a brat, but lately, she's giving all of us a run for our money. She's too beautiful for her own good, and my brothers and I are sick of threatening all the idiots she dates. She's pressing my parents' buttons with her short dresses and low-cut shirts.

She and Tristano share a wing. I pass him on the way to her room, making out with his girlfriend of the month. It's another thing upsetting my mamma. He and Massimo seem to have the same revolving door Gianni and I have regarding women.

Tristano has his newest conquest against the doorframe. His body looms over hers. I don't even stop. He introduced me last night, but I gave up trying to remember the names of my brothers' ass of the week. Hell, sometimes I have a hard enough time remembering my own.

I knock on Arianna's door.

"Come in," she shouts.

I step inside her suite, and my gut drops. She's wearing the exact dress my mamma was worried about. "You can't wear that."

She huffs. "Watch me."

"Don't get snotty with me."

Golden fire erupts in her orbs, shooting flames my way. She puts her hand on her hip and points at me. "You aren't my father."

"Nope. But he's going to tell you the same thing I am."

She snorts. "Whatever. And don't talk to my boyfriend tonight."

The hairs on my arms rise. "Boyfriend? When did you get a new boyfriend?"

"Not your concern," she chirps then sits on the couch and slides her foot into a four-inch black stiletto.

"What's his name?"

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