Conversation quieted, and Gianna pushed her broccoli around on her plate like she was seven and did not like vegetables. Her husband chuckled at absolutely nothing. She rolled her eyes and took a large gulp of wine. Lunch continued with meaningless chatter, good food and drink, but the tension never dissipated. It sat there, uninterrupted. Like an echo before the words were even spoken. My brother leaned back in his chair, a ring sounding as he ran his finger around his wine glass. Adriana ate as though a large man she did not know and was marrying in three weeks was not sitting next to her. Papà mentioned that he had bought an old shooting range, and conversation on that drifted down the table like a domino effect. They had just served tiramisu for dessert, and I was ready for this lunch to end. But unfortunately, that uncomfortable tension was about to twist its way out of the inevitable. It began with an innocent suggestion between the men to visit the range. And then I watched

I wasn’t usually a sadist, but Jesus, it was kind of hot. A reluctant rush of heat ran to my groin.Talking about sadists, my gaze found my cousin Lorenzo a couple seats down. He was staring at the girl like it was his job. And not any job I’d given him—because he was good at turning those to shit—but like a vocation or something. You’d never know looking atthe man nor talking to him, but the bastard had an inclination for S&M. Knowing that and watching him stare at Mira Abelli, a sliver of irritation ran through me.She probably liked it sweet and vanilla.Probably preferred the man to get on his knees and beg a bit.Lorenzo would.I’d rather shut my dick in a car door.She’d glared at me at church today, and I’d wondered what the Sweet Abelli could have against me. I’d known the nickname before I even met the girl. It was an innocent pet name that became well-known—well, among men—because not only was she sweet, she had the sweetest body around.I’d heard more about this girl’s ass

Honestly, it was hard to feel sorry for Tony. He’d cheated on Jenny with that servant, Gabriella, and I wouldn’t doubt others. I didn’t take Nicolas as a man to sleep with other men’s girlfriends for the hell of it, though, and I had a feeling... “What did you do to him?” A not-so-nice smile tugged at Tony’s lips. And there it was. There were always two sides to every story. He took another pull, and with a frown, I watched the blood drip down the side of the island and collect into a small pool. Drinking was only going to make him bleed more. I pushed off the counter and pulled the bottle straight from his lips. Whiskey splashed down his chin and chest. His eyes narrowed, but his next words were slurred. “Jesus, Mira.” He looked wasted, or really close to passing out. I unwound the shirt from his hand and recoiled. “Oh my god! You have to go to the hospital, Tony!” A bullet-shaped hole went straight through his hand, like the barrel had been placed directly in it. I covered my mouth,

I just explained the plot of her book club novel.“I don’t even feel bad for not reading that one.” She hadn’t read a single one of them—I had.“Okay, I have to go,” she said, putting a heel on with one hand and an earring in with the other.“Your papa and Christopher are out, but Dominic is in the basement. Oh, and help your sister pick out her cake flavor. Tua zia Liza needs to know today. Please, Mira!” I sighed and climbed off my parents’ bed.“Leaving!” Mamma’s voice drifted out of the room.I heard a faint “finally” from my nonna as she passed the doorway with her servant Gabriella in tow. She’d gone on her afternoon walk, or, more likely, sat on the patio for five minutes of fresh air while gossiping.A couple of moments later, I pushed the kitchen door open. Adriana sat cross-legged on the counter with two plates of cake before her. Her elbows rested on her knees, and her fists were under her chin while only wearing her yellow polka-dot bikini.“What are the flavors?” I asked,

I stopped Adriana midway and closed my eyes in disbelief.“Papà is going to kill you,” I told her.“Good,” she muttered, adding a long arc with her paintbrush to the canvas that leaned against the wall.The painting would be a rainbow if it weren’t all black. My sister had been brooding since Ryan came over. She went to her classes but otherwise stayed in her room. The week crawled by with her casting a black cloud over the house with her emo paintings and sappy music. I was beginning to feel guilty again, but there wasn’t a part of me that wanted to put myself in her place. I’d rather have a husband who wasn’t so rude, wasn’t as womanizing as I’d heard, and was truthfully less handsome. Maybe that sounded odd, but to me, it made perfect sense.Laughter filtered up the stairs, and I closed my eyes once more. Adriana’s engagement party had started five minutes ago, and she currently sat cross-legged on her floor in overalls, covered in paint. I could see Papà’s temper not far in the di