Page 1 of Of Grief And Gratitude

Chapter One

Fucking babies. I didn’t understand the hype. Sure, my niece was adorable and all, but I couldn’t imagine wanting to pass on my fucked up DNA to another being. I never intended to marry or procreate.

I was a little shocked that my rebellious little sister Bianca was the first of us to pop out a spawn since she’d been like me—against following expectations laid out by our Mafia Don father. Life under Ettore Neretti’s rule was anything but free, so I had to find whatever loopholes I could to defy him.

My chain of gyms, Flex, doubled as sites for money laundering. I’d made good use of my MBA and my love of lifting weights. None of that made my father proud of me, and I’d long stopped caring what he thought, even though, as a child, I’d wanted nothing more than to gain his approval.

I had a personal website where I made money on the Neretti DNA he’d passed down to me. It was my subtle fuck you, and my father knew it. He silently seethed about my side hustle but never spoke about it outright. It was money that I’d never owe to the family, and I saved every penny.

My older twin brothers bickered over who got to hold our niece Ilaria, and when Cosimo prevailed, it wasn’t long before he turned green with the realization that the little princess wasn’t so fresh. I held in my laughter as our oldest brother, Dante, handed the baby off to her father, saving Cosimo from having to learn about diapering.

“Holy shit! Romeo, is this you?” My cousin Olivia jumped up from where she’d been sitting on the arm of the couch.

Her reaction caught my attention, and I sauntered over to her to peer down at whatever she had pulled up on her phone. I froze when I saw one of my members-only videos playing with only a small portion of my body blurred for the national tabloid news audience.

Olivia slapped her hand over her eyes, dropping the cell. “Oh, gross. Dude, you’re naked.”

That got the attention of everybody in the room. I reached for the phone, but Cosimo swiped it up, frowning at the screen where the host was talking.

“He calls himself The Real Italian Stallion, and he’s causing quite the stir in Chicago with his raunchy website and questionable connections to a prominent family that we hesitate to name because we’re not a fan of cement shoes—if you get the drift.”

“Oh, you’re so fucked,” Cosimo murmured.

His commentary was unnecessary. I watched as our father’s face turned a mottled shade of red as he realized the implications of the newscast.

“Romeo! Outside now!” He shouted, jerking his thumb toward the patio. He shoved the French doors open hard enough that they slammed against the wall as he exited.

I wasn’t going to get out of it this time. I straightened my shoulders and followed him, ignoring all my gawking family members. Their murmuring voices trailed after me as I closed the doors at my back, stopping several feet away from my father’s looming shadow.

“Explain,” he ordered with thinly veiled fury.

“I’m not sure what happened,” I admitted truthfully. “It appears one of the subscribers on my website violated the terms and likely sold some videos to a news source. Technically, it’s legally actionable.”

“Who gives a fuck about finding the person and suing them?” he shouted. “Your ill-advised business venture is tarnishing this family’s reputation!”

“Because our reputation was squeaky clean before?” I retorted. “Did you catch the reference to cement shoes in that newscast? Just because nobody can prove what the family does, does not mean they don’t suspect or know!”

“You are a disgrace to us all!” my father ranted, swiping his hand through the air. “I offered you leniency when you came up with this half-cocked idea. I didn’t step in and stop you even though I knew no good could come from the reprehensible website. You’re nothing more than a whore online!”

I tried not to roll my eyes as I reasoned with him. “It’s just one news segment. People will forget about it soon enough.”

“What is it you kids like to say? The internet is forever.”

“That’s what adults say to dissuade children from sexting each other,” I pointed out.

“How is that any different from what the entire nation just saw?” my father raged. “Only, instead of keeping it between you and a single girl, you have an entire flock of desperate women!”

He wasn’t that far off base. I had many subscribers to my website, but I didn’t bother telling him that only a hundred or so paid for the premium content where the video on the news originated. It wouldn’t be that difficult to discover who had illegally downloaded the content and shared it. And I would find out.

“I’ve never had an issue like this before.” It was a lame excuse and sounded even worse when spoken aloud.

“It only takes one time,” my father hissed. “You can’t guarantee that this will die down by tomorrow. I cannot allow this to continue.”

I bristled at his words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s long past the time when you should have grown up and settled down,” my father started.

No, I was not allowing him to take me down this road. He’d already forced Niccolò and Bianca into marriages for his benefit. I would not be the next to fall victim to his machinations. “I am not getting married. I refuse.”

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