Romeo The Mafia Casanova

Romeo’s [POV]

Then: Nine months later”It’s a boy,” I read in a flat tone the banner hanging across the living room.

Laughter trickled out of the joint baby shower, the house was littered with happy couples and screaming children, something that a year ago would have sent me running in the opposite direction or at least forced me to lie face down on the pavement in the middle of rush hour traffic.

Instead, there was a small twinge of pain in my chest where my heart was of stone beat. The saying, green with envy, never made sense until that moment.

I felt physically sick as my eyes drank in the blue balloons, blue cake, blue confetti, and what seemed to be hundreds of tiny little blue clothes folded near the unwrapped gifts.

I’d been late on purpose.

I knew I would only be able to stomach so much, and not showing up would be insulting to the family, Eden included; after all, I would be his godparent. This would be my godson.

Worst idea Tristian had ever had, but there it was.

Part of me wondered if he did that so that his son would always be protected, never hated by yours truly. I would never touch a child. Our relationship had been strained in the last year, ever since his marriage and their instant pregnancy, instant happiness, instant family, I’d drifted away, burying my head between women’s thighs some nights, slitting their throats the others. Some might say I became the hardest underboss in the Cosa Nostra.

With laser-like focus and determination to forget the woman in the other room, I’d poured myself into making more of a name so that even if I couldn’t touch her, see her, kiss her, or be with her, she had no choice but to hear my name until she was sick with it.

If that made me a monster, so be it.

She needed to hear my name as I did hers in my head with no end in sight. There were nights when I pictured her lips I kissed, her tongue I sucked, and her pussy I stuck my dick in. Those were the times I felt the most guilt, picturing my brother’s wife so I could come.

What kind of monster had I become?

“Romeo.” My brother’s voice interrupted my morose thoughts. He was wearing a blue shirt with the moniker Dad to be scrawled across the front. “Glad you could finally make it.” He held out his hand.

Was it my imagination, or did he emphasize the word finally? I took his hand, completely unfazed as his fingers squeezed mine to the point of all-out strangulation before I dropped it to my side.

It was the first time we’d shaken hands in months, the first time we’d been forced to talk, the first time we’d been in the same room together voluntarily.

“It seems like all I’ve been doing lately is congratulating you.” My smile felt so fake I wanted to choke myself. “And a boy? I bet Mom’s excited. She always favors boys. Much to Juliet’s dismay.”

Tristian scowled. “I used to think that, but have you seen Juliet recently? If she’s not at the house, she’s out shopping with Mom, getting her hair done, and nails done. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mom took her wine tasting as a teen.”

A shriek sounded as Juliet rounded the corner, ran at me at full speed, and launched herself into my arms, her glossy black hair swinging into my face. “You’re here!”

“And you learned how to strangle a man, good for you.” I chuckled, hugging her back.

She laughed against me, her body humming with energy as I set her back on her feet. Damn, she was growing up fast. It seemed every time I saw her, she turned more and more into a woman.

Where had the time gone?

Great.

Another female in my life I needed to worry about. Fuck. I saw a lot of shooting and torture in my future.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I lied through my teeth, earning a snort from Tristian.

Bastard.

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Mom and I had a bet. I told her you’d show, but she said you’d rather get drunk than-”

I cupped a hand over her face. “You talk too much.”

She jerked away. “Don’t mess up my lip gloss.”

“Wouldn’t dare.” I winked. “Where is Ma?” I peered around her and froze.

There she stood, rubbing her pregnant belly while my mom stood by her side. I could always decipher what was behind each emotion each time she showed them.

She was happy.

Fucking elated.

And as if sensing me in the room, she turned and gave me a glimpse of a sad smile.

Pity.

It nearly hurt worse than the sorrow and anger.

She knew.

Of course, my mother knew how much I loved the girl standing by her side-how many times had I imagined this very scenario until it was explained that my purpose would not be a contribution to the family by way of marrying and settling down?

No, my contribution would be death.

Murder.

Just like my brother’s contribution was life.

“She’s so beautiful,” Juliet uttered next to me.

“She is,” Tristian agreed.

If they were waiting for me to say something, they were shit out of luck; I pushed past both of them on wooden legs toward the object of my love.

Of my hate.

Of my affection.

Of all my emotions.

After all, they weren’t opposites, were they? Not even close.

They were like twin brothers constantly warring with one another until one day, a winner was crowned, and a loser was killed.

My love had lost.

So I fed my hate even more.

That was my sin.

My cross to bear.

Heavy was the crown to the one who wears it, and I carried it proudly on my head.

“Ma.” I leaned in and kissed each of her cheeks, inhaling the Oscar de la Renta perfume she always wore behind her ears.

Her jet-black hair was pulled tightly back, twisted into a bun, and kept there by two pins worth more than most people’s cars.

“You don’t come around as much as you should.” Ma’s red lips spread into a small pout, and I wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “But you’re here now; that’s what counts.”

“Yes.” I swallowed, once, twice, then finally turned to Eden.

Her eyes dripped with a hatred I’d carefully built there, constructed, watered, and tended like the garden she was.

“Eden,” said her name hurt, the one word like poison on my tongue. “You look absolutely lovely.”

My smile hurt.

Hers was nonexistent.

“Thank you, Romeo.” She turned to my mom and reached for her hand. “I’m going to go grab some fresh air.”

Ma was instantly deflated. “Good idea, keep that baby healthy.”

“Always,” Eden stated before walking off, her ass swaying even pregnant in her tight white strapless sundress.

Something pinched my side.

“Ouch!” I swatted Ma’s hand away. “Son of a bitch, why so violent?”

“Why such an asshole?” she countered.

I narrowed my eyes. “I said she looked lovely.”

“You sounded half dead!”

Didn’t she know? I was. At least my heart was.

“Ma.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure Tristian wasn’t watching or reading my lips, then lowered my mouth to her ear and whispered, “You know why I can’t.”

She stiffened. “Still that bad?”

“You have no fucking clue.”

“Language.”

I sighed. “Sorry.”

She reached for my hand and squeezed. “I’ll light a candle for you. One day it won’t hurt so much; one day, you’ll find love just like Tristian.”

“No, thank you.” My smile was sad, my heart heavy. “I don’t think I want that kind of love, Ma. I wouldn’t survive it twice; I barely survived it once.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” I tried to sound convincing. “Now, stop looking like you’re ready to cry. You know I can’t see you cry. Please.” I kissed her hand. “I’m going to go grab a drink.”

She smiled. “Good idea.”

I maneuvered farther into the living room where the table of treats was set up. There was enough food to feed an army and enough candy to put anyone in a sugar coma, which explained all the screaming kids running up and down the stairs with plastic swords.

Walking over to the bar in the corner, I poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass.

“Cake pop?” Came a voice behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder.

One of the caterers was standing there with a seductive grin on her face, holding out a blue cake pop. Her black skirt was short and tight, just how I liked them, easy access, and all that.

Her heels said fuck me please, just like her knowing expression, and her blond hair was drawn back into a ponytail I’d probably pull in the next five minutes while she screamed my name.

“If I eat your cake pop, does that mean you suck on mine?” I threw back the entire contents of my glass and waited.

Women.

They always hesitated, not because they wanted to. Hell no. They hesitated because they had to look like they weren’t after sex. Why did it matter?

Such a shame, such a fucking double standard.

She stood up on her tiptoes and leaned in. “Do you think it will fit?”

“Only one way to find out.” I ran a finger down the side of her cheek then down her arm until I clutched her hand and started pulling her toward the nearest bathroom.

This was what I needed, a distraction & Sex.