Brutal Intentions: A Standalone Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Brutal Hearts Book 1)

“Am I a sex addict?” I whimper, pulling off my baby doll T-shirt and panties at lightning speed. I’m already wet. My pussy started tingling the moment Laz picked me up on the way home from school and drove us to this remote spot in the woods.

I’m perched on the edge of the passenger seat of his car, my legs outside the door, aching and whipped up into a frenzy by the sight and smell of my illicit boyfriend, and I won’t be satisfied until he’s screwed me into a senseless and deliciously sore mess.

Laz has already pulled his T-shirt off and is furiously unbuttoning his jeans, the dappled light of the forest playing over his bare shoulders. His dark hair is falling into his eyes and all the veins are standing out on his forearms.

“If you are, I definitely am,” he gasps, spreading me open and kneeling down on the ground to swipe my clit with his tongue.

I yelp with pleasure, and for once I don’t bother to smother how much noise I’m making. The trees, the sky, can hear how much I want Laz. I need someone or something to know, otherwise this secret is going to grow so big it will burst out of me.

Laz sits up and puts his knee on the seat, his shoulders just fitting inside the car. He grasps his cock, pulls my legs around his hips, and plunges into me.

I cry out sharply, and half a dozen birds explode from the trees around us in a furious flapping of wings.

There’s no space. I cling to him and the headrest of the passenger seat. The car moves as he pounds into me. I’ve never experienced anything hotter in my life. A cool wind blows in, and the fresh air on my naked body ratchets up the intensity.

We shouldn’t be here.

We might get caught.

This is insane.

His phone rings, and instead of ignoring the call, he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen.

And then he answers it.

I clamp my hand over my mouth before I can ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“Hey, Giulia,” he says, as casual as I’ve ever heard him.

My eyes widen and I nearly scream out loud.

He’s talking to Mom?

While he’s inside of me?

Laz continues to screw me like there’s nothing happening that’s out of the ordinary. Every now and then, he glances down at his cock disappearing inside me and mouths, Oh, fuck yes.

I can just hear Mom’s voice, but I can’t tell what she’s saying. “Sure, I can pick those up. Wait, you got a sec?”

Mom’s reply takes a moment, and I imagine she’s reciting all the things she has to do that day. She’s a devotee to the cult of busy. Meanwhile, Laz is rawing my pussy like he hasn’t got a care in the world and my juices are all over him.

“Uh-huh. I just wanted to say that you’re driving me crazy, but I think I’m starting to like you.” He’s speaking to Mom but he’s staring right into my eyes the entire time. “You talk back, you’re fucking stubborn. I know I drive you crazy as well, but I think you’re starting to like me, too.”

My eyes widen and I’m so shocked that my hands fall away from my mouth.

“No, I’m not high. You can fight me all you want but you know it’s true.”

“I—” I start to reply breathlessly before Laz grins at me and I clamp both hands over my mouth again.

Shit.

Mom nearly heard me speaking to her husband in my sex voice.

“I just thought you should know,” he says, watching himself drill my pussy. “Hang on, I need to put you on speaker.” He taps the screen and throws the phone onto the seat behind my head.

“Where is this coming from, Lazzaro?” asks Mom in a peeved voice.

If I wasn’t the biggest slut in the city, I’d push Laz off me, but I’m so addicted to what he’s doing to me that even now I can’t close my legs and be a lady. Push away the hottest man I’ve ever seen and give up this thick dick because he’s speaking to his wife who also happens to be my mother?

Not happening.

Laz takes my hand and draws it to his lips, pressing a silent kiss to my palm. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want to do this properly.”

He does?

“How close are you?” he asks.

So close, I mouth.

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“Cool.” Lazily, he reaches down and traces his thumb over my clit, round and around in a devastating motion, and I know I’m going to burst apart at the seams any second.

I start mouthing desperately, Hang up hang up hang up—

Laz smirks. “I have to go. I think I hear Mia coming.”

He reaches over my head, and I hear a beep. Just in time because I come with a wail, my whole body convulsing from a powerful orgasm.

Laz groans and pounds me harder. “Fuck yes, milk my cock, baby. You’re such a horny little slut for me.”

“Shut up, you crazy asshole,” I whimper raggedly, hating myself already as my orgasm tails off. From bliss to paralyzing self-hatred in a matter of seconds.

“Come again and say thank you this time. Do as you’re told.”

My nails dig into his shoulders as I watch him screw me harder. “Go to hell.”

“Say, please cream-pie my pussy.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Say it or I’ll video call your mother while I fuck you and show her what a cock-hungry girl she raised.”

I groan at his coarse words, which are making me want to come again. “You’ll lose everything.”

He grins wider and reaches for his phone. “You daring me?”

Laz seems like the sort of man to take a dare seriously. I slap the phone away. “No.”

“Then say it.”

I reach down between my legs and massage my middle finger over my clit. Laz’s face goes blank as he watches me, as if he’s never seen anything so hot in his life. “Please cream-pie my pussy, Laz.”

“Oh, hell yes,” he growls, pumping faster into me.

The drag and pull of his cock inside me is making me go insane. My clit is alive with sensation. There’s sweat on Laz’s chest and his eyes are dilated and dark. Suddenly, he clamps a hand around my throat and squeezes. I’m being pressed down into the seat, completely at his mercy. Trapped between his body and the leather.

Suddenly, everything rushes up, and I fly apart into a thousand shining pieces.

Laz is on the verge of coming when I return to earth. I reach around his cock, grab the skin of his ball sack, and twist.

He groans but doesn’t stop pounding me, and I feel him come as his rhythm stutters, his body flushes red, and his head tips back.

When he opens his eyes to catch his breath, he grins lazily at me. “You little hellcat.”

The sound of birdsong reaches my ears and I realize that we just fucked in the woods.

My hands are pressed against his chest, and I can’t move with his big body still pinning me to the seat. “Can you let me up?”

Laz pulls back a little but then shoves himself deep again. “Don’t want to. I like my cum inside you.”

“Why are you so obsessed with that?”

He looks up at me through his dark fringe of hair and pins me with his eyes. “Because it’s you, Bambi.”

Suddenly, I can’t take a breath. I assumed he did this with every woman he slept with because it’s some sort of fetish of his.

“I never know whether to trust anything that comes out of your mouth. All those things you said when Mom was on the phone . . .”

“What things? Remind me.”

I fiddle with the seam of the leather seat. “That you want to do this properly.”

“This is me, doing things properly.”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing proper about secretly screwing your stepdaughter in the woods that I can see.”

But Laz just shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his lips, and slides his cock even deeper.

The next evening we’re all supposed to go to Rieta and Nero’s for dinner, but Mom is ashen-faced and her forehead is clammy.

“I have a migraine. You and Mia go,” Mom tells Laz as she heads for her bedroom, the tips of her fingers pressed to her forehead.

Laz glances at me and murmurs, “Sure. I’ll take Mia.”

Mom nods absent-mindedly and disappears upstairs. If she were thinking clearly, would Mom realize how strange it is for her asshole husband to agree to take his stepdaughter to a dinner without argument, knowing it won’t be fun for him in any way?

Maybe. Maybe not. And I can’t find myself caring too much either way. A whole evening with Laz all to myself? I’m ecstatic. Sure, I have to share him with Rieta and Nero, but Nero doesn’t say much, and Rieta will be fun. It might almost feel like a double date.

It’s chilly outside, and Laz and I are wearing jackets as we walk side by side down the street, neither of us rushing. Laz is wearing a well-worn leather bomber jacket that looks so good over his white tee.

While I’m daydreaming, Laz reaches out and captures my fingers in his.

I gasp and rip my hand away. “Don’t.”

His eyes are dark and challenging “Why not?”

“You know why not. I don’t have to spell it out for you.” The last thing either of us needs is for whispers to get back to Mom that her husband has been seen holding her daughter’s hand.

Laz glances around and then shoves me down a side street. A narrow path leads behind a row of garden fences, lined with dandelions, and overshadowed by trees.

He holds out his palm, his eyes burning with anger. “Hold my hand, Bambi.”

“Just because we think no one can see us doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

But Laz stays right where he is.

“Fine,” I say, putting my hand in his and rolling my eyes. He grips me hard and we start walking together in the dark.

When I glance at him, his lips are twitching, and I can’t help the smile that breaks over my face. The next thing I know, he’s turned toward me and is kissing me as he walks me up against a fence. Kisses that are full of happiness. Full of sweetness.

I never knew that doing the worst thing in the world could taste so much like heaven.

“We’re going to be late,” I murmur between kisses.

“Just one more kiss.” He captures my lips with his again, his tongue pushing deep into my mouth, a promise for later.

A few minutes later, my heart is beating wildly as we stand on Rieta’s front doorstep two feet apart. I ring the doorbell, hoping that my reddened, just-been-kissed lips go unnoticed by my sister.

Rieta opens the door with a smile and kisses both of our cheeks.

“Mom couldn’t come,” I explain. “Migraine.”

“Nero can’t be here, either. Never mind, I like small dinner parties better.” She smiles at Laz as she takes his jacket. “It will give me a chance to get to know you better.”

Laz frowns slightly. “Are you mocking me?”

To her credit, Rieta doesn’t pretend she doesn’t know what Laz is talking about. “Some of us are friendly in this family. I promise.”

Amusement hooks the corner of his mouth. “That’s unexpected. Are you sure you have permission to be nice to me?”

“This is my house, and you’re welcome here. Come in, I’m just finishing dinner.”

We follow Rieta through to the dining room and she tells us to sit down and that we’re eating right away. The table is set with five places, so I put two of them away. There’s also a bowl of salad, homemade vinaigrette, and a dish of shaved parmesan.

“Can I do anything to help?” Laz calls after her.

Rieta sticks her head around the door and points at a bottle sitting on the dining table. “You could open the wine. Thank you, Lazzaro.”

“He prefers Laz, actually,” I tell her.

Rieta glances from Laz to me in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Laz mutters, reaching for the wine.

“It does matter,” I say firmly. “Rieta will remember, won’t you?”

Even if it’s just Rieta and I who call him by the name he prefers, it’s something. It’s important that he feels like himself.

“Of course, if that’s what you prefer.” Rieta smiles at Laz before disappearing into the kitchen.

Laz is winding the screw into the cork. “Why did you do that? I don’t care if you’re the only one who calls me Laz.”

“Because it’s the man you are. I like the man you are.”

He pulls the cork from the bottle with a pop. “Don’t say shit like that when I can’t kiss you. Wine?”

I’m not old enough, but wine is sacred in my family, and I’ve been allowed to have a little with dinner since I was sixteen if I want it. Usually I don’t, but I feel happy tonight. I feel relaxed. In Rieta’s house, I can almost pretend that Laz is mine.

I hold my fingers up and measure three-quarters of an inch in the air. “This much, please.”

Laz pours it out and hands it to me, and then pours a bigger glass for himself.

The two of us end up standing in front of a picture of Rieta and Nero on their wedding day, my sister radiantly beautiful in her lace wedding dress and Nero handsome in his suit. It’s a candid photo that’s full of chemistry between the couple. A surprising amount of chemistry when you consider that it was an arranged marriage. Things have cooled between husband and wife since the photo was taken. When I see Nero, which I rarely do these days, he’s never affectionate with his wife. Trying and failing so many times to have a baby is driving a wedge between them.

But in this photo? He’s gazing at the beautiful, smiling woman in his arms with eyes filled with adoration. What happened to all that love? Did it drain away? Burn up and blow away like ashes?

I’m hyperaware of Laz standing by my side, his arm pressing into mine. What if I fall in love with Laz and that happens to us? We could sacrifice everything for each other and be left with nothing to show for it.

“They look really happy,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, they sure look that way,” I say sadly.

Laz glances at me sharply. “You okay, Bambi?”

I’m saved from answering by Rieta coming in holding an enormous dish of pasta, her hands covered in oven gloves. “I hope you’re both hungry. I made enough for six because I thought more people were coming.”

The pasta looks and tastes delicious. Chunks of ricotta cheese, toasted pine nuts, roasted cauliflower, cumin, and olive oil. Best of all, dinner is relaxed for once, the three of us chatting away about TV shows, the upcoming mayoral election, the places we’ve been on holiday. I keep sneaking looks at Laz and smiling to myself as he chats with Rieta. He’s an entirely different man when he’s not got a snarky wall up or he’s not expecting someone’s words to knife him in the guts. His smiles are so beautiful that they take my breath away.

I like this man.

I like him a lot.

When Rieta’s plate is almost empty, she turns to me, wine in hand. “I heard about your dinner with Drago Lastra. Is Mom insisting that you marry him?”

Instantly, a chill wind sweeps through the room.

“Mom’s not insisting yet, but she keeps bringing him up. I didn’t like him, and I’ve told her that, but she can’t seem to accept it.”

Every time I’ve walked into a room and Mom is there, it’s taken her less than three minutes to bring up marriage, engagements, or so-called suitable men.

Laz puts his water glass down hard and savagely cuts into a piece of cauliflower with the edge of his fork. “Mia’s marrying that piece of shit over my dead body.”

A thrill goes through me at how angry and possessive he sounds. Rieta must pick up on it too as she watches him with a slight frown on her face. I distract her by pouring her more wine.

“Thank you, Mia. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get married, either. You’re so young, and it doesn’t seem like a good match for you. Do you even like him?”

Laz raises his head quickly to stare at me.

I feel a flush creep up my neck. Be more subtle, Laz.

And he already knows the answer to that question.

“God, no. He gave me the creeps.”

“Then that settles it,” Rieta says with a little nod. “I’ll talk to Mom and tell her it’s not happening.”

After that, Laz starts to relax.

When the meal is over, I help Rieta take the dirty dishes to the kitchen, box up the leftovers, and scrape the plates into the bin. I lose myself in the memory of Laz laughing at Rieta’s stories about the two of us getting up to mischief when we were kids. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself at a family dinner so much.

And it’s with Laz. Despite all the sneaking around, despite the fact that what we’re doing with each other is sordid and wrong on so many levels, I can’t help but feel like I’m in the right place for the first time in my life.

As Rieta rinses the serving spoons, she asks, “What’s up with Laz? He’s been staring at you all night.”

“What do you mean what’s up with Laz?” Even before the words are out of my mouth I can hear how defensive I sound. I feel myself start to blush and I whirl away from my sister.

“Just what I said. Mia, why have you turned around?”

I reach for a dirty plate, panic slamming through me. I thought that if anyone questioned me about the tension between me and Laz, I would play it cool. Shrug it off and pretend not to know what they were talking about. I practiced it so many times in the shower, but now that it’s really happening, my palms are sweating, and my heart is pounding.

To my surprise, Rieta gives my shoulder an affectionate punch. “Mia Viviana Bianchi. You’ve got a crush on Laz.”

I turn to face her, clutching the dirty plate like a shield. “No—I don’t—I—”

Rieta waves me off and turns back to the sink. “Don’t worry about it. You have to live with him, and it must be very strange and intense. And I get it. He’s young and pretty sexy, and when he loosens up he’s fun to be around. More like a big brother than a stepfather, right?”

I shove the dirty plate into the dishwasher. I don’t know what to say to that, so I reach for a half-full water glass, intending to empty it into the sink. Water sloshes over my hand and onto the floor. My foot skids on the wet patch and the glass starts to slip from my fingers.

“Oh sh—”

A large hand appears out of nowhere, catching the glass before it can hit the tile floor and shatter. Laz moved so fast across the room that it’s like he has superpowers. He’s grabbed me before I can fall, too, and he sets the glass down on the counter before helping me straighten up.

“Careful, Bambi.” He strokes his hands through my hair, gazing down at my face in a way that makes my heart zoom madly around my rib cage. Dimly, I’m aware that Rieta is staring at us.

“I hope you didn’t hurt yourself. Are you okay?”

I nod, still gazing up at him like a deer caught in headlights.

He tweaks my nose and in an even softer tone, he says, “Good girl.”

Then he releases me and steps back. In a normal voice he announces to Rieta, “I’ll say goodnight. Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re leaving?” I ask, as he heads into the hall and pulls on his jacket.

“Yep. You stay and have fun. Call me when you’re done here, and I’ll walk back and get you.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I said I’ll come back and get you.” Laz gives me a final lingering look before opening the front door and seeing himself out.

When I turn around, Rieta is staring at the door, wide-eyed with shock.

“Oh, shit,” she whispers. “It’s the other way around. He has a crush on you.”

I want to sink through the floor.

Disappear like melting ice.

Laz, what the hell have you done?

Rieta turns to me. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” I say desperately, shaking my head. I can feel the red flush that’s giving away all my secrets.

“Mia, he called you Bambi. That’s the cutest nickname I’ve ever heard! Has he tried to kiss you? He has kissed you, hasn’t he?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

My face is doing all kinds of crazy things out of my control. I whirl around and pick up a stack of dirty dishes. Then I put them down again as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and see it’s a text from Laz.

Tell her. Someone should know about us, and she loves you.

That’s insane. He’s insane. We agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone. What am I supposed to do if Rieta freaks out and tells Mom? Rieta is the only one who even talks to me, and I won’t be able to bear it if she starts to hate me too.

I try to come up with a reasonable explanation for why Laz would call me Bambi and touch my face like I’m his girlfriend, but it’s too late. Rieta’s already figured out everything.

I cover my eyes and hold out my phone to my sister, showing her the text from Laz.

She gasps and grabs my phone from me. “Is this from Laz? Tell me what?”

It’s out now. I haven’t got a choice. “That we’re together.”

I peek through my fingers at my sister. Her mouth is hanging open as she stares from me to my phone and back again.

“Why is he in your contacts as a knife emoji?”

Because he’s dangerous for me, and I’m deadly for him.

“It’s a reminder that one of us or both of us are going to get killed if anyone finds out about us. You won’t tell Mom, will you? Our uncles will kill him. Literally kill him.” I grab Rieta’s wet hand, pleading with her.

Her mouth is open as she struggles for words. Grapples with this secret that she no doubt wishes she didn’t know. I’ve put her in a terrible position, trapped between me and Mom.

Finally, she passes my phone back, grabs a dishcloth, and wipes her hands. “Come on. Laz left us alone so we could talk. So, let’s talk.”

Rieta leads me back into the dining room and pours us both fresh glasses of red wine. We take them through to the living room and sit down on the sofas together.

“Tell me everything,” Rieta says.

I take a deep breath.

And I do.

I don’t sugarcoat anything. I make sure Rieta knows about all the things that Laz did those first few weeks he lived with us and how much I hated him. As I continue my story, my face softens, and so does my voice. I tell her how Laz stood up to the boys who took compromising pictures of me—though I don’t say where, because I’m not ready to share Tasha with anyone else—and defended me to Mom. I tell Rieta how he infuriates me and makes me laugh, and that I can’t stop thinking about him.

“What does it feel like?” Rieta asks.

“What does what feel like?”

My sister plays with the edge of a cushion, her expression wistful. “For a man to have a crush on you? To feel his eyes follow you across the room and know that he’s thinking about you and only you. Burning for you.”

It’s a question that an inexperienced little sister might ask her older sister, but Rieta is older than me and she’s married. “But you know how it feels. You have Nero.”

Rieta shakes her head, misery bleeding into her eyes. “Nero never looked and acted around me the way Laz does around you. At least, he hasn’t for a long, long time.”

I don’t know what to say. Rieta’s usually so cheerful and positive, but I can see what an effort that’s been for her lately.

Rieta takes a sip of wine and shakes her head. “Never mind. Let’s not talk about me right now. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels dangerous,” I say truthfully.

“What if Mom divorced him? Would you two be together?”

I let out a burst of scandalized laughter. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m on the side of love.”

“This isn’t a fairy tale. This is real life.”

“I’m serious. He makes you happy. No matter what Mom says, happiness is actually important for—” She breaks off, a sob in her voice and tears swimming in her eyes.

“Oh, Rieta,” I murmur, taking her wine glass from her and putting both of them down. I pull her into a hug. “Are things really that bad between you and Nero?”

Rieta lets herself cry for exactly one and a half seconds, and then she sits up and shakes her head. “Trying for a baby is messing with my head. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

I don’t think it’s just the frustration of trying for a baby, but I watch as Rieta visibly shuts down her emotions and changes the subject.

“I like him,” Rieta says, wiping her face.

“Who?”

“Laz, silly. He’s weird and intense and it’s ten kinds of fucked up . . . but he cares about you.”

I imagined that if anyone found out about Laz and me, I would have to endure a long lecture about what a stupid little girl I’ve been, heaping even more shame on our family name.

“Do you really think so?”

“Mia, he didn’t touch your face and call you Bambi in front of me because he was being careless. He wanted me to know so that you would have someone to confide in. Even though it could get him killed. Not many men would do that.”

My heart squeezes in my chest. They wouldn’t, would they? But it doesn’t matter how selfless and honorable it was if we’re still stuck creeping around behind Mom’s back.

“What am I going to do?” I whisper.

“What does Laz want to do?”

“He says he has a plan. He wants us to be together.”

Rieta’s face creases like she’s about to cry again. If she’s getting mopey over Laz, the least romantic man ever, things must be really bad between her and Nero. “Did he say what the plan is?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t asked. It’s probably something crazy.” If I had to guess, Laz is refusing to give Mom a baby or do anything that a husband should, and he’s biding his time before she kicks him out and divorces him. That way he can tell his brothers it wasn’t his fault, and he tried his best. As far as plans go, it’s not a great one, but it’s probably all we have.

“If the shit hits the fan, you’re always welcome here,” Rieta offers.

“What about Nero?”

“I’ll worry about Nero. You think about yourself and Laz, and don’t let anyone stand in your way if you believe in your heart that Laz is the man for you.”

I throw my arms around Rieta, my heart filled with love for my sister. “I don’t deserve you.”

“If you’ve found love, then hold on tight, no matter what,” she whispers fiercely.

Twenty minutes later, I send Laz a text message that I’m ready to go, and he replies that he’ll be right there. Before I close my phone, I edit Laz’s contact name and add a heart next to the knife emoji. The sparkly pink heart.

A few minutes later my phone buzzes.

I’m outside.

I kiss Rieta goodnight and promise to call her if I need anything, day or night, no judgment from her. I hug her fiercely, overwhelmed by gratitude that I don’t have to carry this secret alone anymore.

A surreal feeling sweeps over me as I close the front door and see Laz standing out in the street, leaning against a lamppost with his hands in his jeans pockets. The pose is relaxed, but I sense the tension in his body. His eyes don’t leave my face as I walk toward him and stop two feet away.

This is as close as I dare approach him when anyone might be watching.

We stare at each other for a long time. Our secret’s not just ours anymore. We’ve given up control and now someone else knows, and we can’t predict what happens next.

“We feel real now,” I whisper. “You and me.”

A smile hooks the corner of his mouth. “You’ve always been real to me, Bambi.” His glimmering gaze drops to my mouth, and in a husky voice he says, “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Me, too.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. “This is torture.”

“Rieta won’t tell anyone. She’s on our side. But, Laz, please don’t . . .”

He frowns. “Don’t what?”

I reach out and tug the zipper of his jacket, pleading with him. “Don’t get hurt because of me.”

Laz gazes at me from beneath his lashes. “I want to be with you. Always. What do you think about that?”

My stomach erupts in a riot of butterflies and rainbows, but I force myself to stay calm. “Why?”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

I am hungry for every drop of him. Every word he wants to give me. “A girl likes to know.”

He pins me with his green gaze. “Because I’m falling in love with you, and with every day that passes, I fall harder still.”

I almost throw myself into his arms. “Really? You mean that?”

“I’ll say it every day until you believe me. I’ll say it every hour if I have to.”

“I’m falling in love with you, too,” I whisper.

The two feet of space between us feels like an endless chasm.

“How are we going to be together?” I ask.

My lover just blinks slowly. “Would you do anything for us, Bambi? I want to know how far you’d go for us to be together.”

The pain of not touching him is throbbing in my chest. “Whatever it takes. Whatever we have to do. But I don’t want anyone to die,” I add quickly.

He shakes his head. “No one’s going to die.”

“Especially not you.” I know he thinks he’s going to die young, but if the Rosetti men are cursed, then we’ll break that curse together.

“If my plan works, I’ll get my inheritance and you’ll be protected from your family. It will be an ordeal when the time comes, but we can get through it together.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“We’re tough, you and me. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

We are tough. We’re as tough as goddamn nails. “Then I trust you to do whatever it takes.”

A dark, triumphant gleam comes into his eyes, and his smile grows cold and a little scary.

Just what is he going to do? Now I’m worried. “Maybe you should tell me what your plan is, after all.”

He puts his head on one side, regarding me in silence. “No. I don’t think I will. It’s best you leave everything up to me. Now come on, let’s get going.” He nods toward home, and we start walking side by side.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help with anything?”

Laz gazes down at me as we walk along, smiling his mysterious smile. “No, Bambi. Not a thing. Just keep being your adorable, beautiful self, and everything will work out perfectly.”

As the weeks go by, Laz and I hone our subterfuge. We ignore each other at home whenever anyone else is around, but the second we’re alone, we’re all over each other. He screws me so many times in my bed that I lose count of how many orgasms I have. It’s loving and it’s beautiful, but there are no two ways around it.

We don’t make love.

We fuck.

Desperately.

Furiously.

The nights I’m meant to be working, we spend together. Sometimes at a hotel. Sometimes just driving around together, listening to the radio, and holding hands. For the first time in my life, I’m happy. Genuinely—complicatedly—happy. I’m being a terrible person by anyone’s measure, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Being a good girl never brought me anything but misery.

Being Laz’s bad girl has set me free.

Not everything’s angels and cupcakes, though. Late at night, I hear Mom and Laz fighting. I can’t make out the words, but I know what it’s about. He won’t sleep with her.

He doesn’t like to talk about it with me, but he’s said enough to make me understand that for a few weeks he was able to make excuses for not having sex, or he pretended to be asleep, but Mom’s starting to get frustrated.

When Mom’s frustrated, she throws things. Two vases and three wine glasses have bit the dust in the last two weeks.

I lie awake in bed listening to them arguing, but it’s worse when they finally go silent because I start to imagine that he’s given in and he’s having sex with her just to make her shut up. For hours I lie awake imagining them doing it. Picturing him coming to me and confessing what he did. How I’ll cry, and he’ll beg me to forgive him. It’s pure agony, but I can’t make myself stop.

One morning, I’m a zombie in the kitchen as I make coffee, and tears keep threatening to spill down my cheeks. I heard them arguing again last night and then they went ominously silent. I’m so tired and overwrought that I’ve already half accepted that they’ve had sex, and it’s only a matter of time before Laz confirms that my nightmare is real.

He comes into the kitchen, and the sight of him is enough to make a lump rise in my throat.

“Bambi? What’s wrong, are you sick?”

I shake my head and open my mouth to beg him to tell me it didn’t happen, but then Mom sweeps into the room in her red silk kimono, and I swallow all the words I was going to say. They burn down my throat and make my stomach ache.

Behind her back, he gives me a desperate look and crosses his heart with his forefinger. He didn’t.

He wouldn’t.

I believe him, but how long can we go on like this?

Over dinner that night, Mom’s in an uncharacteristically good mood. We eat braised beef in red wine with fried potatoes, but the food feels so heavy in my stomach that I can only manage a few mouthfuls and spend the rest of the meal picking at my plate.

Laz seems to have tuned out, and answers in monosyllables whenever Mom asks him a question.

I focus on counting the number of baby onions in my stew until Mom draws me out of my reverie by repeatedly saying my name.

I glance up. “Sorry, what?”

“I said I have a question for you both.”

My near-empty stomach convulses. For me and Laz? “What question?”

Laz shoots me a glance and I realize how panicked I sound.

“I want to know what you both think of a date I’ve chosen for an event.” Her eyes flash, and there’s an edge to her voice. Like I care about any day of the year apart from the anniversary of my father’s death.

“What event?” Laz asks.

“Our three-month anniversary. I thought we could invite my family. Yours.”

Laz gazes blankly at Mom. “Why?”

“Because it’s our three-month anniversary,” Mom says, louder, as if Laz is deaf or stupid. “We can celebrate, and a family party will remind us of what our duties are.” She glares at him, and my insides shrivel up in horror as I realize what duties she’s talking about. Mom will get Laz’s brothers on his back about him not sleeping with her.

“I’ll ask Fabrizio if he can bring a single man for Mia, seeing as Drago Lastra apparently wasn’t suitable,” Mom says.

Laz’s expression is suddenly murderous. Under the table, I dig my nails into my thigh. How is Mom not picking up on the jealousy that’s suddenly a raging tornado spinning around the room? “Don’t bother, please.”

“I didn’t ask for your permission or your opinion. I only want to know if the twenty-third is suitable because that’s the date I’ve chosen.” Mom turns to Laz. “Well, darling?”

He drags his eyes away from me and back to her. “What?”

“The date. It would be wonderful if we had something to announce, but that’s out of my control, apparently,” she mutters.

“Something to announce,” Laz repeats, glancing speculatively at me, and I think he must be considering telling everyone about us.

I can only imagine what mayhem that will cause with all his brothers and my uncles present. There will probably be blood spilled on the dance floor.

He turns to Mom. “The twenty-third? Sure. Can’t wait.”