Page 3 of Vicious Intentions
“If he doesn’t like my family, then why come here at all?”
Raffaele’s eyes widen slightly, surprised by such a direct question. When he sees there’s no malice behind it, only genuine curiosity, he answers honestly. “We didn’t have much of a choice. Whenthe Vincenzo Romanoorders you to fly to Chicago to witness his successor take theomertá, refusal isn’t exactly an option.”
My brows knit together as the word ‘successor’ settles heavily in my chest, eclipsing everything else he just told me.
Does Marcello know our father is telling everyone that he’s meant to be his heir apparent? Does Jude know?
I keep those questions to myself. Though I have no love for Outfit politics, I’m not foolish enough to share my misgivingswith someone who could be considered an enemy to my family. That’s one code of honor I’ll never cross.
“So,” Raffaele says, breaking the silence that ensued, “are you going to show me around, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?” His lips curve into a bright grin. “I’m okay either way. You’ve got too pretty a face for me to want to look at anything else anyway.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks in embarrassment.
“I… I could show you the den,” I offer quickly, bypassing his teasing remark. “No one should be there right now.”
“Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”
Before I can react, he takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I freeze in place, staring at my hand and how small it is in comparison to his. He’s so casual about it that I don’t even have the will to point out how wrong this is.
He’s a Cosa Nostra prince.I’m an Outfitprincipessa. Not too long ago, being caught holding hands would’ve been reason enough to arrange a marriage between our families, no matter how young we were.
Hasn’t anyone taught him acceptable etiquette?
“Hey? Are you okay?” he asks when my feet refuse to move, my eyes still glued to our joined hands.
God, I’m making such a fool of myself. Here he is, just trying to be kind, and I’m acting as if the world has tilted on its axis. To be fair, it has.
Aside from my parents and siblings, no one has ever touched me like this before, not even in something as innocent as holding my hand. Being the youngest daughter of such a notorious family comes with its drawbacks. Most people steer clear of me, afraid that getting too close might somehow shorten their lifespan.
Raffaele doesn’t seem to have that worry. I can’t tell if it’s bravery, foolishness, or simple ignorance that makes him behave this way.
“Sorry,” I murmur, offering him a weak smile as I force my feet to move.
We pass through the living room, where wives, foot soldiers, and lower-rankingmade menremain while the heads of families have already been called away to witness the oath.
When we step inside the den, Raffaele’s eyes light up with unmistakable delight.
“Sweet!” he says, rushing toward the large TV, gaming consoles, and shelves of video games. “Do you know how to play any of these?” he asks, eyeing them as if they were a treasure.
I study his excitement, briefly wondering if he’s never seen a PlayStation or an Xbox before.
No. That would be ridiculous. He’s a teenage boy. Of course, he has.
“Not really,” I admit, since video games are more Lucky’s and Enzo’s domain than mine.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, “me neither.” A sheepish smile tugs at his lips, his blue eyes tinged with something sad enough to make my chest ache for reasons I don’t quite understand.
“You don’t have to say that just because I don’t know how to play,” I retort, eyeing him attentively.
Raffaele looks at me strangely, and then seems to lose interest in video games altogether. “What else do you have here?” he asks, scanning the den, his attention catching on everything at once.
The space is filled to the brim with every kind of entertainment kids our age could want. Board games, puzzles, comic books. Mom makes sure the den is always stocked with the latest games and comics so the twins will spend most of their time here whenever we visit Big Sal’s mansion, rather thanwreaking havoc around the house out of boredom. And the twins arealwaysbored.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to play a video game instead?” I ask when I catch his eyes drifting back to the large shelf of video games, clearly tempted.
Raffaele doesn’t answer, but the way his gaze fixes on one of the controllers tells me he does.
