I Slit Her Throat

Romeo's [POV]

Then: Six years ago "You're so full of shit!" Tristian gave me a shove while he nodded to the bartender for two more shots. "That's physically impossible, and you know it!"

"Ah, but you don't. Because you've never tried it, you're too afraid your dick will fall off, you pussy. By the way, it won't. Though with your small dick, I do worry if you can hit the exact spot where her eyes start rolling to the back of her head like she's seeing motherfucking God." I winked, knowing I was getting to him.

By sibling standards, my brother and I had a normal relationship. There was a rivalry as much as there was love. He was older but not wiser. I had inherited that trait. Which was why our father loved me best, and Tristian knew it too. Even our baby sister, Juliet, was aware of it. Everyone was, he didn't try to hide it.

Our mother was more discreet when it came to displaying her love and devotion toward us. However, she loved me more, as well.

Don't get me wrong, they both adored Tristian. He was their firstborn, their pride and joy, the apple of their fucking eyes. With him, everyone knew what they were getting.

He was stable, complacent, and safe. The Famiglia's accountant, his job was to ensure the money went where it was supposed to go, hidden.

Making ruthless sons of bitches richer by the day.

I was not given the same leniency as my older brother. From the moment I was born, I was Romero Sinacore.

I killed, avenged & made panties wet.

"Ugh!" a familiar sultry voice expressed, bringing my attention to the redheaded beauty walking into the bar. "Can you get any more vulgar, Romeo?"

"Depends on how much more liquor I chug down."

She smirked, narrowing her piercing blue eyes in my direction like we were the only two people in the wide-open space, which happened a lot when we were together.

Especially when it came down to the three of us. Despite the years of trying to avoid the way, she looked at me, pretending as if I didn't see her face light up when I walked into the room.

Playing off the way I made her laugh.

Smile & Cry.

And fuck, did I ever make her cry.

Eden De Rossi, the daughter of Bartolo, the head of our security. We'd known her all our lives; she'd practically lived with us since her father's job was to make sure we stayed alive.

Eden grew up with us. She was my age, twenty-one. Tristian was two years older than me, while our baby sister Juliet was only sixteen. Already proving to be a royal pain in the ass.

I watched out for her  for all of them, including Eden, especially me.

Our mother wanted Tristian and me to be close in age in hopes we would be there for one another. In the Italian mafia, the family was everything.

Loyalty and trust, end of fucking story.

The Sinacore ancestry only knew blood and violence. Generations upon generations were killed in the name of The Famiglia. We were one of the Five Families, which meant no one crossed us and lived to see another day.

I made damn sure of it, from early on, I was chosen as the boss's favorite, not once trying to hide the fact that he wanted me to partner with him, standing to the right of his throne.

One day, I'd rule the underworld.

Where Tristian was weak, I was strong. I didn't give a flying fuck what I had to do. I did as I was told, enjoying it every step of the way.

My brother, on the other hand, he was too emotional, too involved. He felt too much, exactly like our mother. I felt nothing; it was just easier that way.

I learned from his mistakes, I corrected his slipups, I made sure to make up for his flaws, you see, Tristian had a heart.

I was certain...

I didn't, cold, dark, and lethal.

Mafia Casanova was what everyone labeled me.

Tristian narrowed his eyes in my direction. "Just because I'm not named after a pussy doesn't mean I don't know my way around one."

My lips twitched in amusement while uncertainty crossed his features. He was always so damn easy to read.

"You're thinking about it now, aren't you?"

"Shut the fuck up." He threw the shot of tequila back. "Leave it to you to give me actual performance anxiety before I'm even on deck. Son of a bitch, I hate you sometimes."

"You love me; everyone does."

His eyes fell for a bit before he tossed back another shot. "Yeah, that's the problem. How's a guy supposed to get laid around here with you cock blocking me every time?"

I didn't flinch, I was good at appearing aloof, I had to be; it was the way I stayed alive, seduce, satisfy & kill.

Welcome to the Sinacore Family.

Cheers.

But something about the way he said it rubbed me the wrong way, maybe because I'd heard it my entire life, how every girlfriend from first grade to present day had eyes for me and only me and gazed right past him.

I shouldn't say every woman.

Eden.

My forbidden fruit.

She was always the one who never fell for my bullshit no matter how hard I tried. Then again, she grew up learning how to read people too. She was a lot like us, except she was a little girl who turned into a woman as if it happened overnight. Her father didn't hold the power or level of authority that ours did, but she still learned all the tricks, knowing how to defend herself with more than her favorite gun or knives.

I had the fucking scar on my right thigh to prove it. The memory of attempting to kiss her during our senior year of high school struck my mind.

Except, I'd like to think it was her way of foreplay.

She threatened to stab me again when I realized I'd just said that out loud.

I gripped her wrist. "I let you attack me once. It won't happen again."

She glared at me.

No one could get my heart racing, and my cock hard quite like she could. Especially when she was trying to prove she was capable of being more than just a woman in a man's world.