Page 51 of Made to Sin

Romeo, don of the Bartolos, strode into my office. His bald head was speckled with sparse gray hairs, most likely from stress more than old age.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Romeo?”

He helped himself to one of the seats in front of my desk. “Luciano, guess how entertaining it was for me to find out that my men killed Marco Camello without any given permission?”

“Greatly, I’m sure,” I answered with little interest, leaning back in my chair.

I knew where this little game was going. The Bartolos weren’t guilty of Marco’s death, and their boss came seeking answers.

I was.

Romeo took his time, smirking and drawing out the dramatics in his words. “Why’d you do it? I heard you guys were building an alliance.”

The answer was the same as to why I shot Marco’s errand boy. The answer was the same as to why I shot an enforcer of mine. And the answer remained the same as to why I shot Marco himself.

Katarina Camello.

After fending for myself to survive my father’s mercilesstraining, I stopped partaking in unnecessary murders. Sylvio took over that end of the job description, and I sat back to dictate through dreadful paperwork and stale business meetings.

That was until the man above wanted to make me the brunt of his sordid joke.

It started in June when I saw the idiotic fucker harassing Katarina. She was clearly uncomfortable, but her husband was too busy showing off his bad aim to care. I had been itching to shoot someone all morning, so it was a no-brainer.

Just when I thought she couldn’t be any more annoying, she proved me wrong at the beginning of July. The difference from before was that she was unconscious through it. If I thought she was bothersome when she was talking, she was more of a nuisance when she was not.

An enforcer of mine had overestimated the dose of sleeping drugs he should have given her, and she didn’t wake up. Naturally, he didn’t live to see the next sunrise.

It had been especially long since I killed a man with my bare hands— if it wasn’t a rat— but when Dante recognized Katarina in the prison, I saw red. I watched the life drain from the man’s frightened eyes as I carried out his beatings, thinking about how her eyes must have dimmed too. The fucker wasn’t supposed to use any injections in the first place. It was meant for active threats. Surveillance revealed she didn’t even try to fight back. A few broken fingers later, he revealed it was because he couldn’t stand her yapping mouth. For that, I prolonged his torture for another hour. For the first time in years, I was covered from head to toe with blood.

Lastly, to answer Romeo’s question, Marco deserved to die. I gave him multiple chances to change. For a while, he even tricked me into thinking he did.

Then, Sylvio made a call to tell me that Marco was hitting her. I understood why the fucker was mad that she stole a car,got caught, and embarrassed his name, but that was no reason to abuse her. As he crossed the final line, so did I. Alliances and war aside, I put a crisp bullet through his thick skull.

But to reveal all that was practically showing Romeo my hand in an intense game of Poker. I survived as long as I had because I had no weak spot, and I wasn’t going to give him an opening to see one now.

With a stoic face, I lied. “He cheated me.”

The older boss gracelessly laughed, no doubt at what he thought of my short fuse. “The bastard had it coming, but why blame my men?”

“I thought you would like the notoriety. I don’t need a war with the Camellos right now, so why not? Is there a problem?”

Romeo laughed harder, so hard, I saw spit flying out of his mouth. “Great doing business with you, Luciano.”

With a curt nod, I dismissed him, and our sly agreement was settled. He got up and left my office, his loud chuckles still ongoing through the hall.

I pulled out a cigarette, needing to smoke after that encounter. This was why I preferred not to interact with anyone outside of my family. They were brainless minions, and the conversations were uselessly agitating— extra when they revolved around the woman who had the wholeCosa Nostrain a chokehold.

For fuck’s sake, smoking wasn’t enough, I needed a damn glass of whiskey, and I knew just where to get it.

—

I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his high-rise, looking at New York’s lights as if they held the answers to my problems. It was impossible as a don to have a clean plate, but if there was a person to help me clear some messes, my consigliere was the key.

After speaking with Romeo, I realized Marco’s death was the start of a chain reaction. I wasn’t afraid of what would happen,but it was always better to be over-prepared than ambushed.

“I heard Romeo talked with you,” Dante drawled over the top of his cognac-filled tumbler.

I raised my glass. “He found out that I killed Marco.”

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