Page 2 of Blood Lust

“Breakfast is ready!” Mom called out from the back door.

Knowing we didn’t dare keep her waiting, we filed past her and into the kitchen. She wrinkled her nose at me and Vittorio as we came in.

“You two stink,” she announced with a wave of her hand in front of her face. “I hope you plan on showering.”

Alessio followed us in, wearing a towel around his hips and roughly drying his hair with another.

“And you! You’re dripping all over my floor!” Standing with her arms akimbo, she muttered something about boys never growing up.

After kissing her cheek, I filled my plate and dropped into a barstool at the breakfast bar.

My brothers did the same.

“Can someone tell Leo breakfast is ready?” Mom asked with her head in the refrigerator.

“If his lazy ass wants to stay in bed all day, that’s on him,” Alessio replied before he shoved a slice of bacon into his mouth.

Mom swatted him with her dish towel. He yelped and hopped up from his seat. “Ouch!”

“Now you can go wake him up,” she informed him with an arch in her brow that dared him to argue.

He grumbled the whole way, but he stomped off through the house. We heard him shout, obviously from the bottom of the stairs. “Leo! Get your lazy ass up! Breakfast is ready!”

“Oh, for crying out loud! I could’ve done that!” Mom smacked her forehead and muttered under her breath in Italian.

Vittorio and I snickered, but when Mom’s calculating gaze hit us, we covered our laughter by shoveling food into our mouths.

Dad finished his breakfast, rinsed his dishes, then put them in the dishwasher. He kissed my mom’s cheek and whispered something that made her blush. She looked years younger than her age in that moment. They shared a secret smile that did something to my chest, then he went into the living room and turned on some game show. It was odd but pretty fucking awesome to witness this domestic side of them after years of seeing my dad as the ruthless don he’d been.

Not that my dad was abusive to my mom, because he wasn’t. He never raised a hand to her that I knew of, and he spoiled her rotten. But growing up, there was a cool reserve and certain decorum that was expected. Part of me believed that it was so the outside world—his enemies—didn’t realize how madly in love he was with the woman who was chosen for him.

Leo stumbled down and into the kitchen. Bleary-eyed, he made a plate heaped with food and plopped down next to Alessio. I made a mental note to talk to him about his partying.

“You gonna make it?” Vittorio asked him with a smirk. Leo stuffed a bite into his mouth and flipped Vittorio off without making eye contact.

After I finished eating, I rested my elbows on the bar and watched my mom as she flitted around the kitchen. I’d already had one woman chosen for me, and I let her marry my cousin, but that was another story. Had I loved Autumn? Yes. But not the way a man should love his wife. After seeing her with Dominic, I was glad I hadn’t put up a fight because I couldn’t have given her a happiness like that.

What they had was what my parents had—true love.

Something I doubted I’d ever have because it was too dangerous for me and the unsuspecting woman. At least my father had never pushed for me to marry after Autumn married Dominic. I’d leave that to my younger brothers.

Besides, in the Sicilian mafia, succession wasn’t patrilineal—the best man for the job became don. It had only gone to me because my father had groomed me for it my entire life. I’d worked my way up the ranks the same as anyone, and I’d been fair but merciless.

I had to be.

“I think this book thing is a big mistake,” I began. Being firm with my mother wasn’t an easy task. She rivaled my father in her stubbornness, but I got it from both of them.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Not you too.”

“Gabe is right,” Vittorio chimed in.

“I don’t care. We moved here to be normal. To have a life. To do things we enjoy. I enjoy reading. The thought of meeting some of my favorite authors is a dream,” she explained.

“Right. But you still need to be safe. Your existence here is precarious. You’re already pushing the limit by owning a restaurant. This is too much,” I argued.

“I’m going. Whether you, your father, one of your brothers, or all of you take me—or I go by myself. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time but was never able to.” The look she gave me brooked no argument, but I wasn’t done.

“Mom, you don’t need to be going to some huge-ass book signing. That’s a security nightmare!” I practically shouted. My brothers all shot me looks of varying degrees of surprise. Losing my cool was extremely out of character for me.

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