Romeo The Mafia Casanova

I loved her, Tristian and I both did.

Nevertheless, I loved my brother more.

There was a line I never crossed when it came to Eden. Her garden wasn’t mine to plow my seed in.

“Speaking of my growing fan base…” I winked at Tristian, letting her go. “Where’s the three to our threesome tonight?”

“She’s right here, and it’s not a threesome since I still refuse to participate,” she teased, playing coy.

Eden was smart; she knew I wanted her, needed her, and craved her like an addict who craves heroin.

Tristian’s eyes immediately darkened, drinking her in. I, however, refused to turn around. I already knew what I’d see.

Tits, Ass, & Legs.

Long ones that seemed to go on forever. Yet somehow, they matched her curves. Triggering my hands to burn with the desire to caress them up and down her body.

Marking, claiming, making her mine.

Until she begged me to stop, I wouldn’t, I couldn’t.

Years of pent-up sexual tension would do that to any man, and I was no different. She had the power to bring me to my knees if she sought it out enough. I refused to allow her to come in between my brother and me.

Even though I wanted her more than anything and anyone.

“Eden.” I gestured for another drink. “We started without you.”

She reached around me, grabbing the shot from the bartender. “You always do. I’m no longer surprised. So what are we celebrating?”

I slowly turned, keeping my eyes locked on hers. Fighting with the urge to glance down her body. Eden demanded respect and attention; I’d never treat her as if she was just another victim of my charm.

She was different, immune, & not interested.

She loved me, but not in the same way I did her. Hence, the fucking knife in my thigh senior year. Saying some shit about dying rather than hooking up with someone who used scratches on his bedpost as a way to climb to the top.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

There was a joke in there somewhere about being on top, spewing out of my mouth, of course. The way she was looking at me had my mind lost in its thoughts.

Tristian must have noticed. He cleared his throat next to us, simply saving my ass. She’d hit me; I knew it. It was one of the things I loved the most about her.

She was feisty, bitchy, always needing to have her voice heard and be put in her place.

Hence, why I made her cry often. Despite her dramatics and fucking temper tantrums, she always came back for more. I had that effect on women.

Do you want to know how to keep their panties wet and under your demand and control without them even knowing it?

Piss them off, ignore them, but always do it with a grin.

There you go, you’re welcome.

Bringing my focus back to him, Tristian stated with pride in his tone, “Your father and the Capo just made this asshole his captain.”

Despite desperately longing to go from associate to made man, he didn’t have it in him. He was The Famiglia’s accountant, for fuck’s sake. All he saw was the glory behind the bloodshed. Men praise each other for the mentality of killing or being killed.

He never saw the lonely nights.

Showering the blood off your body.

Burning yet another suit because to keep it would criminalize you.

He didn’t see the demon I saw in the mirror every day, and I would die before letting him see just how much this life stole from me… bit by bit.

Piece by piece, until you were nothing but… A soulless devil.

“He did?” Eden’s eyebrows furrowed, standing by the bar. “But… why?”

I placed my hand over my chest, feigning offense. “You wound me, fair maiden-”

“Oh, shut up.” She waved me off. “I mean you’re pretty, and I’m sure with all your experience you know how to tie a good knot or pretend to strangle someone, but come on, you barely have ten kills under your belt and-”

“Fifty-seven, but who’s counting?” I corrected. “It’s just a number, right? Double it, and it’s probably how many women I’ve fucked.”

She winced, quickly recovering. Knowing it didn’t matter, I saw it.

I saw everything.

Particularly when it came to her.

“I think it’s time to get extremely drunk. You in?”

She was still gaping at me like she didn’t even know me. Blown away with how many enemies I’d killed, or maybe it was how many women I made come on my cock. Either way, I needed to get away from her shame, and her judging stare burning a hole in my body.

“I’m gonna hit the restroom. Be right back.” Tristian, the fucking traitor, nearly ran in the opposite direction taking down an elderly couple in all his haste. He hated confrontation; again, he was just an accountant, for fuck’s sake.

I sighed and gazed after him. “Zero tact.”

“None.” Eden shrugged. “It’s why he’s so charming.”

“Wait, him?” I pointed in the general direction of the bathrooms. “My older brother? Charming? Are you already drunk?” I pressed my hand to her forehead only to feel the prick of a knife against my favorite part of my six-pack. “Do it, I dare you.”

“I’ve done it before.” She jerked her hand away and sighed. “And yes, if you must know, I think he’s charming. He’s-” she lifted a shoulder in a weak shrug “-he’s different, you know? Not jaded yet, there’s no darkness in him, not like…” Her voice caught.

“Me? Is that what you were going to say?”

“Look at you, Romeo.” Her voice lowered. “Fifty-seven kills at the age of twenty-one? Is that the life you pictured for yourself? You could have been a model, an actor, a firefighter.”

“You do realize you named every occupation that has good-looking guys, right? Is that your type, Eden? Do you want a hero? What exactly is he saving you from? Because from what I know about the woman standing in front of me, she’s as ruthless as the man staring back at her. So please, enlighten me on what part of you is a damsel in distress.”

She rolled her eyes. “My point is, you’re in this world now, just like my dad, just like me… and there is no going back; I’ll have to marry for convenience, not love. Like I’m some fucking trophy in the name of mafia life. But Tristian, he’s still semi-normal compared to us. It’s refreshing; he wants no part of what you do on a daily. Taking lives and fucking women isn’t his M. O.”

“And who says it’s mine?”

“I do.”

“Since when are you the authority on who I am and what I do?”