Salli’s grandson joins me, crouching beside me and taking turns caressing the kitten.

Jasper speaks to Salli in Italian. While I don’t fully understand what they’re talking about, it seems to be about food, so it’s probably about tonight’s dinner.

The whole time, his attention keeps filtering back to me and it’s hard to pretend he doesn’t exist when I’m doing everything I can to not clench my thighs.

Before he leaves, Jasper leans over to ruffle Francesco’s hair then he whispers to me, “Stop tempting me before I fuck you right here right now.”

“I-I wasn’t,” I murmur back, making sure Salli doesn’t hear.

“Yes, you were. You want me as much as I want you, pet, you just don’t want to admit it.” He leans over and kisses my temple with soft lips. “Be good.”

And then, he’s out, leaving me a mess on the floor.

The worst part is that another thought keeps swirling in my brain. I want to be good for him. I want him to come back tonight and hug me to sleep.

And that can’t go on.

I really need to get the fuck out of here before I stop seeing Jasper as my captor and more as someone else.

7

Jasper

The number of people who show up to the meeting is beyond anything I expected.

Men ranging from their late teens to their sixties stand in the grand dining hall that Salli has stuffed with Southern Italian dishes and a copious amount of wine from the cellar.

Enzo and I are at the head of the table, watching the people who answered his calls — or rather, mine.

Guards stand outside as additional security to the meeting.

When I was with the Costas, I avoided such meetings for a reason. They’re business and boring, and I had no interest in those. Killing made more sense than any political antics.

But now, business needs to be done.

These men look up to me — the last Vitallio around here. When Nonno and Padre were alive, they were their godfathers, the reason for their livelihood, and the Costas took that away from them.

Now, they’re searching for a leader, someone to give them hope, power, and more importantly, the life that was snatched from between their fingers.

Emilio and his sons didn’t only shoot my family, but they also hunted down every friend, loyal worker and possible force that could come around and bite them — like Enzo’s family.

Well, they left the most volatile of them all.

Me.

Despite the food, no one is sitting or eating. They’re all waiting for a sign like the one Nonno used to give.

I stand up, clutching my glass of wine. Speeches and all this shit was never my thing, but times change.

With one last look at them, I speak in Italian, my tone calm, but firm. Like Nonno, like Padre. “My name is Alessio Vitallio, and I’m the last Vitallio alive.”

Tomb silence falls on the hall.

“A long time ago, we were shot at in our house in the States and I became a contract killer for the enemy.”

A few murmurs break amongst the men, but I continue, “It’s the most disgraceful thing in my entire fucking life. Everyone present here has lost at least a family member to the unfair war the Costas have started. Loss is painful, but it doesn’t have to remain that way. Loss can be turned into hate, anger, it can become a driving force for revenge. Because that’s what I will do. I’ll avenge every last person who was ambushed, killed in his home and in front of his fucking children and wife. I’ll bring you justice, but justice doesn’t come without war.” My gaze roams over them. “I understand if you’ve lost enough already, if you want to stay in your homes and not get involved in this, but for those who want to join me, I promise you three things. One, the Costas’ graves will be a lot more than ours. Two, the Vitallios’ lands will flourish again with your help and your hard work. Three, and most importantly, I’m going to wipe the Costa name off the face of the earth.”

I pause, making as much eye contact with as many of them as possible. “Those with me, please take a seat. You’re welcome to my table any day.”

A few seconds tick by and I expect them to start leaving but one of the elderly ones smiles. “You sound just like your father. God bless his soul.”

As soon as he takes a seat, everyone else follows suit, filling the table like in Nonno’s times when I used to spy from the entrance before Nonno brought me in and sat me on his lap.

Chatter breaks amongst the men and they start telling me about the season, the grapery, the olives, and everything they take pride in.

What I take pride in, too.

The Costas will be history in no time. Enzo and I are already forming our plan, and it’ll come to fruition soon.

Georgina is a Costa, too.

I scowl at that thought. She won’t be a Costa in my head — she’s just Petal.

“That’s De Marco,” Enzo leans in to whisper, discreetly motioning at the old man who first sat down and who obviously holds some power around here. After all, he’s the one who talked the most.

“He’s one of the few powerful families that remain. He lost two sons to the Costas,” Enzo continues.

I give a slight nod, my respect growing for the man. If he lost his sons and he still wants the war, then he’s a loyal general.

“You want him as an ally.” Enzo takes a sip of his wine, appearing nonchalant with that wicked gleam deep in his eyes.

“Noted.”

“Not noted,” he mocks. “Take this a step further.”

“Take it further how?” I gather my cup and inhale the potent wine scent before taking a sip. I always preferred whiskey, but there’s something nostalgic about the taste of our wine. Familial, made with sweat and integrity.

“Ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage,” Enzo says it so simply as if it’s a given.

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because it’ll give you a root here and people will have more trust in you.” He lifts his glass in De Marco’s direction and he returns the toast. “She’s Italian beauty.”

“Then why don’t you marry her?” I ask.

“I’m not a Vitallio.”

“I’m not interested in marriage.” Never even thought about it and never will, especially not marriage in a place like Sicily — they’re too traditional and conservative here. Marriage is like this sacred shit that no one and nothing should taint.

“You’re just interested in the Costa whore, yes?” Enzo asks with malice.

It takes everything in me not to bring out my knife and carve him the fuck up. Instead, I grit from between my teeth. “Talk about her again and I’m cutting you.”

“Look, I’m not saying you can’t have her, although it would be better if you got rid of her.” I glare at him and he rolls his eyes. “BUT you can keep her as a side mistress or what-the-fuck-ever. Just marry a Sicilian and think about the grand scheme of things.”

I smile at one of the men instead of stabbing Enzo with a fork.

He’s right, if I want to keep the tradition and go back to my roots, marriage makes sense. That’s what Nonno and Padre did, traditional, with family in mind.