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Life whispers, but death screams.
Loyola Boston University. Two and a half years ago.
It was enemy territory, but I was there on Nico’s orders to negotiate a fresh peace treaty between us and the Irish Mob.
I’d promised Kira’s mother that I’d check in on her daughter. Kira was meant to perform at some college event. A part of me was curious to see if she was any good so I dropped in on her during the event.
The music had thrummed through my bones as I stepped into the crowded college gym, the scent of sweat and cheap perfume assaulting my senses.
I’d scanned the crowd and immediately spotted Kira on the raised dais. She’d looked quite at home with the vibrant lights pulsating around her, her fingers dancing effortlessly across the mixer, creating the rhythm that filled the room.
And then my eyes had snagged on Addy.
She’d stood in the far corner of the gym pretending to be engrossed in the information on a bulletin board. Petite, with a hint of lush curves but she was dressed like a boy.
She should have been invisible, her allure swallowed up by her baggy clothes and baseball cap. Except for her hair, a long thick braid poking out of her cap and snaking down her back. A rope of fire that drew me in like a lasso.
I found myself crossing the room before realizing I’d moved. Something about her closed body language warned me she didn’t like her personal space invaded. So, I took in her profile from a few feet away, my chest feeling too tight.
Porcelain skin, a smattering of freckles across her nose. And those lips, fuck me. Full and pouty, begging to be nipped, sucked on, and wrapped around my cock.
I must have made a sound because she turned to look at me. Her eyes, clear green pools hit me like wrecking balls. She instantly looked away. Then, after a few moments, she deliberately looked back, and this time, she didn’t stop.
Her eyes boldly held mine and even when the blush crept up her neckline and stained her cheeks a deep crimson, she still didn’t take her eyes off me.
I’d have given anything to know what she was thinking just then, but what surprised me more was her lack of shame in blushing for me.
My cock hardened painfully, and I had to rein in my lust before I did something stupid. Like push her against the wall and dry hump her.
I glanced away from her face, and my eyes instantly caught on the black folder she held across her chest like a shield, a battered thing covered in doodles and scribbles.
And there, in the corner of the folder, were the words that sealed my fate:
Life whispers, but death screams.
“Did you write that?” I asked, my voice rough to my own ears, laced with a need I couldn’t quite place.
She startled, as if surprised I’d spoken to her. “What?”
I cocked an eyebrow at the folder. “The quote. Is that you?”
Her eyes followed my gaze until she saw what I was referring to, and then a wry smile tugged at her lips. “Oh, no, that was just the red-eyed, caffeine-overdosed, sleep-deprived version of me.”
It was such a dark and unexpected quote from someone so shy and innocent-looking. I wanted to explore her eclectic mix of purity and provocation. To take her innocence and revel in the depravity lurking behind those clear green eyes.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, extending my hand. “Dante Vitelli.”
She slipped her hand in mine and told me her name.
The moment my hand closed over her small hand, a needle shot through me like a drug, branding me. With a certainty that almost terrified me, I knew I would be unable to let her go.
I should’ve stayed away then. Instead, I marked her as mine through the things I taught her to crave. And in return, she broke me for other women.
Adele O’Shea was everything promised and so much more: A forbidden mafia princess with no clue who she was.
“Fratello? . . . Dante!”
Sal’s voice snaps me out of my reverie, only to find myself hard as a fucking rock.
