Page 110 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

I knew it would end like this. I could never make her happy.

One thing was crystal clear. I never should’ve grown close to Emma in the first place.

With ruthless efficiency, I began dressing. I didn’t look over at her. I couldn’t. I buckled my belt and dragged on my shirt. Then I grabbed my phone. I’d go work at the club and keep digging into my sister’s disappearance. There had to be someone out there who knew something.

As I opened the door, I did the only thing I could think of.

I ended it.

“Go back to Toronto, Emma. There’s no reason for you to stay here anymore.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

Emma

“What the actual fuck?” a woman shouted at me.

I finished climbing into the lush private plane, a large figure trailing behind me. “Give her a minute, micina,” Enzo D’Agostino said. “She doesn’t need you yelling at her right away.”

My twin arched a well-sculpted eyebrow at him. “I will yell if I fucking want, il pazzo.Shemarried a Sicilian mob bosswithout telling me!”

Enzo moved toward her. When he drew close, he cupped Gia’s face in his hands and bent to whisper in her ear. She practically melted at his touch, her eyelids falling shut, and she clung to his wrists like he was her lifeline. He always had this effect on her, and her on him, as if they shared a special language no one else understood. It was an intimate moment, one I had no business witnessing, so I turned away.

Instead, I found a seat and busied myself with the seat belt.

Things happened fast this morning once I’d called Enzo to come get me. A man of few words, he hadn’t said much, just told me to sit tight and he’d be there in two hours.

It had only taken an hour and a half.

Enzo arrived at the Buscetta mansion with a small army behind him, every one of them armed to the teeth. He ordered the guards to open the gate and let me go. I couldn’t hear the whole exchange from the front door, but it hadn’t taken long before the gate swung open and I ran through it. I got into Enzo’s SUV and we sped off.

I knew the guards would inform Giacomo of my departure the instant I left. So part of me expected to see his sedan speeding after us, chasing us through the Palermo streets. Or pulling up at the private airstrip as we boarded Enzo’s jet.

But there was no sign of my temporary husband anywhere.

“Go back to Toronto, Emma. There’s no reason for you to stay here anymore.”

So that was that. It was over. He’d wanted me to leave, so I left. And now I could return to my life and pretend all of this never happened.

I could forget that one time I was stupid enough to fall in love with a mob boss.

The realization came to me in the late hours of the night, long after he’d gone. Yes, I’d fallen for the man who thought I was dumb and naive, nothing more than a warm body in his bed.

The man who would never trust me.

Maybe Iwasa silly sheltered mafia princess. After all, in the past six weeks I hadn’t tried to find a way out of this mess. I’d relied on Giacomo to do it, eager to sleep with him in the meantime. Handed over my heart on a silver platter. Hardly the actions of a reasonable, intelligent woman.

It didn’t matter. Our marriage was forged in resentment and coercion, distracted by pheromones, and had a zero percent chance of ending happily.

My sister dropped into the seat next to mine and snagged my hand. A huge diamond engagement ring flashed on her ring finger. “Okay, spill. Don’t leave anything out, Emma.”

“I need your man to hear this, too. We’re going to need his help.”

“Amore!” She leaned into the aisle and motioned to Enzo, who was speaking with his brothers in the back. He pushed out of his seat and walked up the aisle. She pointed to the empty seat across from her. “Sit down, baby. It’s story time.”

Enzo sat, then reached for Gia’s legs and settled them on his thigh. It was sweet how they were always touching each other.

I drew in a deep breath and tried not to think about how things might have been different in Palermo.

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