Page 3 of Bossy Ex's Brother

But more importantly, there was a magnetic draw to those eyes.

And I just knew I was going to do something stupid very, very soon.

TWO

LUCA

As a forty-five-year-old man and head of a criminal syndicate, it felt like I’d seen it all.

Heads getting blown open and fingers cut off at the dinner table, I was desensitized to much of it at this point. There could be a shoot-out right now in the bar, and I wouldn’t bat an eye. There wasn’t really much that surprised me.

Yet, this woman had managed to surprise me twice in one conversation.

And not just any woman either but Jane Abernathy. My brother’s ex-girlfriend and a lady with a huge stick up her ass.

Although it was easy to forget that when she looked at me with those smoldering blue eyes—eyes that made my cock rise to the challenge.

Her subtle scent and suggestive tone grabbed onto my cock like it was stroking me. A clenching heat urged in my gut, but I resisted. I was not a young man led around by his dick anymore. Sure, Jane was a pretty lady—beautiful, in fact—but she was not someone I thought I’d ever want to fuck with such intensity.

The stomach sensation was probably something I’d eaten earlier that day. Or had I eaten? I honestly couldn’t remember.

Most of the day was spent trying to figure out how the fuck I was going to get out of the mafia without ending up six feet under.

I was currently don of the Coppola crime family, arguably the most powerful in South East Pennsylvania. But I knew more than anyone that a boss was only powerful for as long as he could maintain rulership and authority over his men. The minute he showed any sign of weakness or any sense that he was tired of this lifestyle, he was a goner.

I’d seen it happen with Antoni, the previous don. The man had maintained control for nearly thirty years and was well respected throughout the east coast.

But then the old man got tired. He got weary of constantly having to reign in violence and also all the turf wars. He wanted to retire to Boca or some shit. The word hit the street, and just like that, the Morettis, our rivals, pounced. He was dead a few weeks before his 50th birthday.

I was forty-five now, so that gave me five more years until I reached that point. But I already felt like I was at my wits’ end, and I was so fucking tired of this shit that it wasn’t even funny. I had to get out before I lost my mind entirely.

It was especially dangerous for someone like me, who had no blood claim but simply affiliation with the previous boss. I’d taken over because the old man had no blood relatives left, and I knew a few of his men didn’t like it. They saw me as inferior because of my mixed heritage. I’d had to fight them and draw their blood on the streets before I earned their respect.

But if they got word that I wanted to leave, they might even conspire to kill me. So, unlike the old man, I needed to be very careful with it. Only a few trusted people knew my moves, and even they didn’t know my ultimate end goal. They wouldn’t know until I achieved it and could finally leave this life behind me forever.

Except that to do that, there was one missing piece of the puzzle—a big stupid piece that had run away and disappeared into the wind, never to be heard from again.

My brother.

The same brother whose ex was currently sitting in my fine establishment, drinking like there was no tomorrow.

The plan occurred to me while I watched her. She had downed her first glass already, which was pretty out of character for her. The few times I’d met the girl, she’d barely wanted to shake my hand, turning her nose up at the motorcycle I rode up on. I didn’t like her then, but I’d been willing to tolerate her since my brother seemed so hung up on her at the time. He’d changed the way he dressed, started taking school more seriously, and was even cleaning up his act because of her.

It was a good thing for him to have a straight-laced girlfriend, I thought, even if she was a bit frigid. She could be a positive influence on him.

But then the bastard had gone off the rails anyway, so she couldn’t have been that good of an influence.

“Capo,” I called out to my guard as I watched her.

“Sir?” he answered me. Capo was a big, silent fixture at the back of the bar, nearly blending in with the wall. He didn’t speak unless spoken to but quietly made a note of everything that was going on. He also made sure no fights broke out, and no one was wasting any of my liquor.

“How long has she been here?”

He followed my gaze and answered, “A few minutes, sir.”

A few minutes, and already, she had drunk two glasses of hard liquor and looked on the verge of asking for another one. I’d never pegged her for a day drinker, although, to be fair, it was early evening.

The bar hadn’t opened yet, but she hardly looked dressed for the occasion anyway.

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