Mafia Casanova - M. Robinson Page 0,34

arrogant smile.

“Mama.” Naz started clapping. “That was a great kiss! Right, Uncle Romeo? Wasn’t it your favorites?”

My heart slammed against my ribs as his dark eyes flickered to mine before answering. “My favorite of all time.” He tore his gaze from me and started guiding Naz toward the door.

“Mom’s a good kisser.” Naz didn’t miss a beat as he continued to chatter on about my superb kissing skills. Even as they opened the door and went outside, I could see Naz’s little mouth moving and Romeo laughing.

It was insane how easy it was for them.

To just…co-exist.

Especially after the fact that I’d shoved Romeo out of our lives to prevent a war between the brothers.

Right now, the only reason I had to keep him at arm’s length had everything to do with protecting myself and my son. But the main reason, the main wall that had stood between us, had been obliterated the minute Tristian died.

All I had left was my hatred for the man who told me he loved me with one breath, then exhaled poison with the next.

I had to remember who Romeo was.

I had to remember who I was.

Even if that meant digging up every painful memory, every hateful experience, every rejection he threw my way. Yes, even if it meant remembering what I wanted to forget.

I fell for him once.

Loved him with my soul.

Only to have him laugh in my face.

He was nothing to me.

Nothing, but a bodyguard.

Nothing but my husband’s brother.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Then why couldn’t I stop thinking about him and our future all damn day?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Now make a wish and take a bite. One bite, and all your dreams will come true.” —The Evil Queen

Eden

Then: Two years later

I hadn’t seen him since he’d held back my hair in the bathroom when I was still pregnant with Nazario, who we now called Naz for short.

Romeo.

He hadn’t so much as said a goodbye, an I’ll see you later, a take care.

Nothing.

Not one damn thing.

I knew in my heart it was my husband’s doing. He threw his brother out of our lives without thinking twice about it. I could see the remorse in his gaze when someone brought up Romeo’s name in our presence. Everyone said Romeo was just busy.

Traveling.

Working.

Killing.

He’d become more ruthless. The man I remembered was gone. In his place stood a monster I didn’t know I’d ever see again. I thought about him often.

When I was alone.

With company.

In his brother’s arms.

Especially in moments like these where he used to show up only for me. A handful of gifts in tow. I had no idea how he’d figured it out, but every year on my birthday, his presents were things I’d seen throughout the year that I wanted. One year it was this snow globe of The Rockefeller Center, another it was a historical novel written by my favorite author that was signed and personalized to me.

The best was when he reserved an air balloon ride over the Hamptons at dawn. He actually went with me. To see the world come alive with him standing by my side was a memory I’d take to my grave. If I closed my eyes, I could still see us there on top of the world.

The man knew no bounds, and each year he proved how much he truly knew me. Last year was the first time I didn’t see him, nor did I receive anything in the mail from him. It was like he’d fallen off the face of the earth or worse…

I had.

His brother was the complete opposite of him, where Romeo was sentimental; his brother was over the top. This year I received a diamond tennis bracelet engraved with my birthday and the year that we were in as if Tristian wanted me to remember when and who gave it to me. Every year it was diamonds, luxury cars, clothes, shoes, you name it, he probably gave it to me at some point.

That’s how different the brothers were. One wanted to own my soul while the other wanted my heart. There were days where I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

I couldn’t tell you how many times I contemplated calling, writing, showing up at his penthouse unannounced. I never did. I couldn’t. Rejection was a bitch, and I wasn’t ready to have him tell me to go home once again. I barely survived it the first time. There was no escaping my conscience. Not when it came to him. The mere fact I was still thinking about him