CITY OF CATANIA, SICILY, ITALY.
(SALVATORE'S POV)
I hang up the phone and toss it onto the glass table in front of me. The clatter echoes through the room. I let out a slow, measured sigh, though it does little to ease the frustration knotting deep in my chest.
Valentino… my blood, my youngest child and also, a thorn in my side.
One moment he gives me hope that he might finally show me he's capable, and the next, he proves again and again that he's reckless, careless, and a liability to everything I've built.
My blood boils thinking of how easily he could destroy everything we've worked for, how thoughtless he is with something so vital, so utterly important. He's a storm I can't control, a constant test of my patience, and I don't know whether to scream at him or feel a deeper, sinking disappointment that he still doesn't understand the weight of his actions.
Sitting on the soft leather sofa across from me are my two older sons, Raffaele and Angelo.
Raffaele's fingers dive into his jacket pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He flicks open his golden lighter, lighting the cigarette stick pressed in between his lips, the flame briefly illuminating his sharp features. He takes a long drag, then exhales.
The smoke curls into the air, hanging like a shroud over the room.
Angelo, sitting just beside him, pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, "Seriously. Can you not do that right now?"
Raffaele doesn't even turn to face him. He exhales slowly, letting the smoke drift lazily in front of him. "You're very much welcome to leave the room, brother," he says, his tone sharp, almost teasing.
Angelo mutters something under his breath, grudgingly sliding a little further down the sofa.
I almost chuckle at the exchange, the tension between them a faint escape from my own simmering anger. My hand finds the wine bottle beside me. I pour the deep red liquid into the glass, then lift it, swirling the wine before taking a sip.
I set the glass down gently, letting the silence stretch a beat longer before I speak.
"Your younger brother… is a fucking mess."
I take another swig of wine, hoping the taste will wash away the sting of failure, and the bitter realization of Valentino's carelessness.
"Cento milioni di dollari, spariti…" I mutter. "così, semplicemente." (One hundred million dollars, gone… just like that.)
Raffaele flicks ash from his cigarette into the crystal tray on the side table. His eyes narrow as he turns to look at me. "I think he needs to be dealt with."
"No," Angelo shakes his head, leaning back. "He should be replaced."
I finish the wine in my glass in one gulp, setting it down gently. My gaze drifts between my two older sons.
Their advice, their instincts—they matter. And yet, the decision rests with me.
I sit back, contemplating which action to take. My fingers drum lightly against the glass table, the faintest shadow of worry creeping into my chest.
Valentino may be reckless, but he's cunning too. And I can't help but wonder…
How far will his carelessness push him before it finally costs him everything?
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
(VALENTINO'S POV)
The room's quiet except for the soft and steady sound of Krystal breathing.
Her head rests on my chest, one of her legs are draped across my waist, and her skin is warm against mine.
She's tracing lazy little circles on my chest with her fingers, and every pass of it sends these weird, electric ripples through me.
You'd think after a couple rounds of mind-blowing sex, my mind would shut up for a while.
But it doesn't.
My father's voice keeps echoing inside my head.
"You're a disgrace, Valentino. A stain to my legacy. The Vipera name bleeds because of you."
Krystal's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
"Val?"
I hum in response, my eyes still on the ceiling.
"What was that phone call about?" she asks.
I stiffen a little.
"It's nothing," I mutter. "I don't wanna talk about it."
She shifts, lifting her chin off my chest.
"Come on," she says softly. "It's definitely not nothing if it riled you up like that."
I shake my head. "No, Krystal. Just… drop it, yeah?"
She pouts a little, that sweet, coaxing kind of pout that makes it hard to stay guarded.
"Come on, just tell me. Please?"
I let out a loud groan as I drag a hand down my face. "Okay. Fine."
I stare at the ceiling for a few more seconds before taking a slow, deep breath and meeting her eyes.
"My father hates me."
Her expression softens instantly, the teasing gone. "Why would you say that?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "Because it's true. All I've ever wanted was for him to look at me and say, 'Good job, son' or 'Valentino, I'm proud of you', but that's never happened. Doesn't matter what I do—it's never enough. I built this club from nothing. I run half a dozen other joints that rake in millions every month. But to him? I'm still the irresponsible kid who'll never measure up to his expectations."
She doesn't say anything at first.
She just listens.
Her eyes don't have that pitiful look that I hate—they have understanding. Real understanding.
I take her hand and start playing with her fingers, needing something to keep my hands busy. "But it's fine. I try not to let it get to me."
She tilts her head slightly. "It clearly got to you, though."
I look up, caught off guard.
She smiles faintly. "That's why you used me as your outlet."
I blink, then let out a quiet chuckle. "You're not mad about that, are you?"
She shakes her head.
"Mad? No." Her grin grows. "I've never been fucked that good in my life. I came so many times, I lost count," she laughs. "Why the hell would I be mad?"
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Well I'm glad you liked it."
"Like is an understatement," she replies. "I fucking loved it."
For a while, neither of us says anything.
I just stare at her. At the way her hair falls over her shoulders, the way the light hits her eyes.
She catches me staring and narrows her eyes playfully. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
My lips curl into a slow smile. "Because I really like you."
"Oh?" she says, her eyebrows lifting.
"Yeah," I nod, still smiling.
She smirks. "And what exactly do you like about me?"
I think about it for a second. "Well you're daring. Fearless. And feisty as hell. When I watched you kick that guy's ass the other night, I swear… it felt like love at first sight."
She bursts out laughing, slapping my chest lightly. "Get outta here."
I laugh too, the sound filling the room and washing away whatever weight was left in my chest. When the laughter fades, I just look at her for a moment, catching my breath. And that's when I realized my chest felt much lighter.
She took something that was eating me alive and made it disappear. Just like that.
"I meant it, you know," I say, my voice softer this time. "I really like you."
A faint blush colors her cheeks, and I can't help but smile wider.
A thought crosses my mind, and I don't think twice about it because it just feels right.
"Krystal."
"Yeah?"
"I wanna ask you something," I say, sitting up.
She tilts her head, grin stretching from ear to ear. "What?"
"Go out with me."
Her smile falters for half a second, caught between surprise and something else I can't name.
She blinks. "What?"
I grin. "A date. With me. What do you say?"
She laughs a little. "A date?" she repeats, like she's trying to make sure she heard right. Her fingers trace a slow line down my chest. "You mean… outside this bed?"
I grin. "That's usually how dates work."
She stares at me for a second, her lips curving into a teasing smirk. "You sure you can handle me when I'm wearing clothes?"
"Guess we'll find out," I say.
Her expression softens, the teasing fading just a little. "Alright, Valentino," she says quietly. "One date."
Then she leans in close, her voice making me shiver as she whispers against my ear. "But don't expect me to play nice."