The Crime of Loving

MIAMI

“Could you look less miserable?” I ignored Aldo’s question and watched the dark clouds as they hovered over the full moon.

Three days.

That was how long it’d been since I’d left Italy without a goodbye and stepped on American soil.

I hadn’t had the chance to get answers or bring up my career before the call ended, asking to pack my life. Duty called.

No, not asked, ordered. It only served as a reminder that even as a successful twenty-six-year-old woman with a career, clients, a future, and plans, my life had never been mine.

In two hours, I’d packed eighteen years into a suitcase.

Ten years.

That was how long it’d been since I last saw my eldest brother, Aldo.

Eleven years since I’d last spoken to Dante, my second-oldest brother. This was after he bled a poor bastard with the blade of his knife for whistling in my direction as we walked down the streets of Venice.

No one saw anything. No one said anything.

Today proved it didn’t matter how far or long I’d been pushed away from this family. I still carried the weight of blood and power only a principessa of La Cosa Nostra could.

For me, it meant a loveless marriage.

Because that was all we had ever been in their eyes as a woman, a bargaining chip.

The large blacked-out sedan reduced its speed at the sight of the large gates that hid my future den. That was if everything went according to Aldo’s plan. The size of the home didn’t surprise or intimidate me. Money never did, not when I’d been showered with it to do what was asked of me, as if happiness had a price.

“Don’t ignore me,” Aldo sneered, and the feel of his dark gaze slid over me. “This is not the time for your games, Alessandra.”

Dante was entertained in the back as his dark chuckle traveled inside the cab.

I gave Aldo my full attention. His stern brown eyes demanded an answer.

Without regard to his men at the front, I spat, “My apologies, brother. I’d forgotten it’s just marriage.”

His lips curled in distaste before he shot back, “Say the word, and California it is.”

My head snapped forward, and my breathing sped up as my shoulders stood back. I didn’t speak a word.

“Didn’t think so,” Aldo replied coldly.

The urge to feel the cool touch of my brass knuckles caused my hand to twitch, a desperate tic. Curling my hand around my small clutch where I kept it safely inside, I brought it closer. But it wasn’t enough, and instead, I ran my fingers over my right thigh. My eyes closed to the hint of the thin holster strap where my push dagger hid beneath my dress.

Hurt him.

Hurt him as much as he is hurting you. Show him how his parting gift can be put to use after ten years.

I took a calming breath, easing the fire that burned through my veins, while the car rolled to a complete stop next to the stone front steps of the mansion. This was it, the bit of freedom I once possessed would be taken tonight. All due to ego and a sloppy murder.

Aldo pulled the door handle, stopped, and uttered, “Don’t fuck this up, Alessandra. I won’t blink twice before I deliver you to Los Angeles.” He exited the car, and I waited for his threat to vanish from my mind. Instead, it sank deeper into my soul.

My door opened, revealing Aldo’s inked hand stretched out for me. I took it without choice before wrapping my hand around his arm. The same arm that helped me up as a child after scraping my knees, only to be told that pain and blood were no reasons to cry. They were meant to teach a lesson.

Two steps later, Dante stood to my left, and with each footfall closer to the front door, the more I struggled to keep my legs from giving in.

It angered me to see my own body failing me. I was stronger than this.

Hell, I’d been molded from afar for this role in a country miles away.

“Trust me when I say I am looking out for your best interests, piccola,” he murmured without looking away from the door, his jaw clenched tightly.

I’d always been “little one” in his eyes. It didn’t feel right anymore, not now. In spite of our broken family, I knew he believed he was doing me a good deed.

Seeing how far his judgment had strayed left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“My name is Alessandra,” I gritted out.

The front door opened, exposing the money that spilled within its walls. I wondered how many ounces, bundles, lies, and blood it had taken for such details. Marble floors spread through the main floor until meeting the inside terrace, and the crystal-cut grand chandelier sparkled past the dim lighting. Pillars decorated the inside structure, and I couldn’t help but admire its structural design.

Hundreds of white roses adorned the room, giving no chance to the endless perfumes and colognes worn by the bodies that lingered as the rose scent triumphed over. Breathing deeply, I bathed in their purity before they could wilt due to the corruption that stood in just one house.

Some would call this a charity gala, a fundraiser for a cause. I called it a fraud. Not one person would be standing here unless they had something to gain.

Dante soon slipped away from our side and into darkness. The place he loved most.

“Do you need a drink?” Aldo asked.

I didn’t, but I wanted a minute alone, so I nodded. Knowing Aldo, he didn’t care for one either, at least not now. What he cared about was learning his surroundings, ensuring the two men that came with us had infiltrated the home and our car was ready for a quick exit.

Father would be proud. I almost chuckled at my own thoughts. He wouldn’t give us a second thought even if we all died. In his eyes, we were all too much like our mother. However, I mirrored her sage green gaze. For him, it was enough. I washer, and I continued to pay the price. After her passing, his hatred only grew. That was until I couldn’t move from the pain he’d inflicted, and I was shipped overseas at the age of eight.