Page 7 of Bratva Menace

Vin laughed. “I take it the party didn’t come as such a surprise then?”

I snorted, releasing him. I looked over my shoulder to make sure Illayana was no longer in earshot. “My sister loves to plan a surprise party, but she sucks at it. Remember Arturo’s thirtieth birthday?” I asked, arching a brow.

His body shook with a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. She just can’t help but give it away.”

“Exactly.” I looked at the two small children at his feet. “Miss Theodora,” I greeted, giving her a gallant bow.

She giggled and hid behind Vin’s leg, her cheeks stained red.

I straightened and held out a closed fist. “Lucian, my man.” He smiled and bumped his fist against mine. We both mimicked an explosion, our hands blowing up into the air.

Eleven years old and cute as buttons, the De Luca twins were already forces to be reckoned with. When I’d first moved to New York with Illayana, Theodora and Lucian lived in the family home with their parents, Alessandro, the former Don of La Cosa Nostra, and his wife, Isabella. After Arturo assumed control, they moved out, wanting to give their newly married son and daughter-in-law some privacy.

They still visited every week, though, maintaining their tradition of Sunday night family dinner.

“What have you ragamuffins been up to? Staying in trouble, I hope.” I winked.

They both nodded enthusiastically. “I put salt in the sugar bowl this morning, and Dad put it in his coffee!” Lucian announced excitedly.

“Nice!”

“And I punched Lucian so hard in the arm I made him bruise!” Theodora added proudly, her head held high.

“She did!” Lucian agreed. “Look!” He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to show me.

I crouched down to their level and inspected his skin, not seeing a bruise but pretending I did anyway because I could see how proud Theodora was of herself. I didn’t have the heart to break that.

“Good job!” I praised. “Just like I taught you.”

Vin snickered, shaking his head. “My parents are still pissed you taught her how to throw a punch.”

“Someone had to.” I shrugged, rising back to my full height.

In my opinion, Theodora should have been taught how to defend herself from the moment she could walk.

It wasn’t as if we lived some normal, apple-pie life. The Mafia was filled with violence, bloodshed, and death. That was something Theodora didn’t choose. She was born into it, and her parents should have prepared her for that. To not do so was doing Theodora a serious disservice and leaving her vulnerable to all the danger that life brought forth.

So I taught the kid how to punch. How to kick. How to always aim for the eyes and balls if a man tried to hurt her.

“What’s been going on with you, anyway?” I asked Vin. “Last I heard, you’d been sent away on some sort of business for your brother.”

Something flashed across his face before he was able to shut it down. Vin’s smile turned strained. Somewhat forced. Fake. “Yeah, you know, just the usual work bullshit.” He laid both hands on Lucian and Theodora’s shoulders. “Come on, you two. Let’s go say hi to everyone.” And then he was off, ushering his two younger siblings in front of him at a brisk pace.

I let him make his escape because I knew I would get to the bottom of whatever the fuck that was about later. I had a persistent personality—absolutely no qualms about badgering the shit out of someone until I got the information I wanted.

Eventually, they would all get so annoyed they’d tell me just to get me to leave them alone.

Worked perfectly well, if you asked me.

I mingled with everyone, making small chitchat and meaningless conversation. I suspected a lot of them only showed up because those types of events brought forth free food and booze. I knew that was why I always attended them.

Being the incredibly social being I was, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the laid-back atmosphere, the music, the carefreeness of it all. It was a rare moment for us—not filled with violence and death for once.

I’d done the rounds, saying hello to everyone before I grabbed a plate of food and sat down at one of the dozens of tables spread out on the grass.

“How’s guard duty going? My sister still playing by the rules?” I asked Christian as I took a sip of my beer.

He was sitting across from me, dressed in a dark button-down shirt and dark jeans. His brother, Luca, was beside him, a plate overflowing with food.