Page 14 of Vicious Intentions
Still, if I have to be the villain in his story, so be it. The boy needs discipline. He needs structure. He needs guidance… because I needhim. Aside from my mother and Niccolò, Raffaele is the only family I have left. We have to protect each other. And if I don’t want him to end up dead at the hands of our enemies, he needs to grow up.
I should have been tougher on him sooner. Against my better judgment, I gave him too much leeway, especially because Carlo always insisted Raffaele be allowed to stay a child a little longer.
Now he’s spoiled and selfish, and too much like our father for my comfort. And every trait in him that mirrors that man is another reason I need to be harder on Raffaele than anyone else.
“Can I have my phone back?” he asks, venom still sharp in his voice.
“After you’ve made the rounds,” I reply, tracing a small circle in the air with my finger.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass,” he says, crossing his arms and slouching back in the chair.
This. This is the insolent attitude that needs to be demolished.
Once I’ve ensured no one is paying attention to us, I lean down until my face is all he sees, and state, “That wasn’t a suggestion, Rafe. It was an order.” He exhales through clenched teeth, seeing the threat in my eyes.
“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles before standing up. “Fine. Whose ass do you want me to kiss?”
Good. Progress.
I scan the room and spot the city’s mayor with a tight expression, barely concealing his frustration for having to attend my father’s wedding. Mayor Robert Harrington might love the kickbacks theCosa Nostrafunnels his way, but he hates having his picture taken with us. Having to pretend that my family is nothing more than average, respectable, law-abiding citizens, somehow takes too much effort on his part.
I’m not sure why it bothers him so much. Everyone knows we own him, along with most of the politicians in this state and half of the NYPD. TheCosa Nostrahas always had this city’s most influential players in its pocket.
Still, by the looks of it, there seems to be growing dissatisfaction with how things are being run.
If tonight has shown me anything at all, it’s that more than a few people here had placed all their hopes on my brother. They wanted Carlo to succeed our father sooner rather than later. Not only did they believe in his vision, but they had grown tired of my father’s sleazy, self-serving ways.
They wanted a boss worth following. Carlo would have been that boss. My father, on the other hand… never was. Which makes the mayor another possible ally in my plan. And if I can get him to betray my father, I can get other reputable men like him to turn their backs on him, too.
My gaze drifts to the dark-haired brunette seated at his table, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else than here. The fact that she looks to be Raffaele’s age only makes me smile wider.
“Go over to the mayor’s table and ask if you can dance with his daughter.”
“You’re fucking with me, right?” Raffaele blurts, his eyes wide. “You’re pimping me out?!”
God, I hate teenagers. Even the simplest order is met with a side of sarcasm.
“Go,” I say flatly. “I won’t ask again.”
“Will you give me back my phone after?” he tries to negotiate.
I exhale slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose just to keep my composure. “Yes. Now go.”
“Fine. But you owe me one. Big time,” he mutters. “I go to school with Caroline Harrington, and she’s a spoiled bitch.”
“Takes one to know one.” My brows raise poignantly at him.
“You’re barrel of laughs today, Matteo,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Remember, you owe me.”
I step aside, my silent command unmistakable. Raffaele lets out a disgruntled huff, drags a hand through his hair, and puts on his best toothpaste-ad smile. I watch him cross the dance floor and strike up a conversation with the mayor. Harrington practically lights up at the attention, clearly pleased that someone has taken an interest in his daughter.
The girl, however, looks far less thrilled. It’s obvious there’s bad blood between them. What my brother did to get on her bad side is anyone’s guess. Still, they’ll both have to get over it and learn to play their parts.
Once the pair begins dancing, I return to my original spot, only to feel Raffaele’s phone vibrate in my pocket.
My brow furrows. Who could possibly be texting him? For all his boyish good looks and swagger, Raffaele is something of a loner. He never talks about his friends or seems to have much of a social life. At least none that I know about.
Maybe outside the hellish walls our father built for us, Raffaele was able to have a semblance of the life Carlo always wanted for him—one where he’s just a kid with ordinary interests, untouched by our upbringing or circumstances.
