Page 227 of Vicious Intentions
And once we lower their coffins into the ground, no one outside the people who truly loved them will remember who they were beyond newspaper headlines and whispered rumors.
The feared Boss of the Cosa Nostra.
And the Outfitprincipessawho loved him most.
Two star-crossed lovers who never stood a chance of making it out alive.
In the end, that’s all they’ll become to the underworld.
A tragedy.
A scandal.
A cautionary tale.
But to me?
Matteo was more than just a brother. He was our hope.
And Annamaria…
Anna was the only person to ever give him peace.
Damn you, Matteo. How the fuck am I supposed to do this without you?
My jaw clenches at the thought of having to live the rest of my life without the one brother I could always depend on.
For so long, it was always us Donato brothers against the world. And now I have to navigate this shit without him. Who the fuck even knows if I’m cut out for it?
‘You’ll be a better Boss than I ever was,’ his words whisper through my mind.
I wish I had Matteo’s belief in me, because right now, I feel like an imposter wearing my dead brother’s crown.
The tension builds again, so by the time I reach the first row where my family is seated across from the Moretti and Vitale families, I’m in an even fouler mood.
“Is everything alright?” Moretti asks, rising from his seat.
You mean besides us having to attend my brother’s funeral? Yeah, everything is fucking peachy,I think to myself, but refuse to let the words leave my mouth.
Instead, I just offer Moretti a curt nod. Everyone knows I’m a man of few words, and there’s a reason for that. People who talk too much eventually give away the thoughts rattling around in their heads. I’d rather keep mine locked away than give any of these motherfuckers a glimpse inside my mind.
If Moretti notices my foul disposition, he doesn’t say anything about it. Good thing too. We both know he was instrumental in the decision Matteo made in the end. Sure, my brother wanted to be with Anna, but things might’ve played out differently if his own city hadn’t turned its back on him.
Matteo’s body wasn’t even cold yet when Moretti told everyone my brother had killed our father and, therefore, was unfit to rule anyway. He probably thinks he did me a favor. Ratting Matteo out made the men who’d once been loyal to him start looking elsewhere for leadership.
And of course, in everyone’s mind, I was the obvious choice.
Winner.
Pfft.
Anyone who thinks being Boss of the Cosa Nostra is synonymous with winning in life should have their fucking head examined. From what I can tell, being king comes with plenty of drawbacks. And as Vitale rushes over to greet me, I see one of them heading straight for me now.
“Sad, sad day,” he shakes his head, his lips pulled into a frown. “I know Matteo was flawed, but I have to admit I liked the kid. Had high hopes for him too. He sure knew how to commanda room.” He tsks softly with another shake of the head. “Hard loss for all of us.”
I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or not. Matteo would’ve known, but I’ve never been much of a people person, so sometimes things go straight over my head. Like knowing whether to take people’s condolences at face value, apparently.
“He was a good man,” the Old Fox adds, looking genuinely saddened by Matteo’s death.
