L'Angelo della Morte | A Mafia Romance

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Warning: spice

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Look at us, we could have it all —
so damn right that it should be wrong

~ Duncan Laurence

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It's no secret that the Salvatores had been favored by the divine. I used to think they were carved by angels, but the more I watched them, the more I started to think that all the gods and goddesses had come together to brainstorm a duo gorgeous and lethal enough to take over the world.

This thought settled in my head as I watched a shirtless Romeo throw his – also shirtless – brother over his shoulder on the lawn of the backyard.

The sun was beating down, leaving their skin slick with a thin layer of sweat. My eyes trailed over the glistening muscles and abs on God's favorites while my lips were snapping in an attempt to find the straw of my milkshake.

"He's sooo fine." I didn't glance at Colby, his voice dreamy enough to tell me that he, too, was entranced by the flexing and stretching of muscles.

"Which one?" I muttered.

"Yes."

I tore my eyes from the sparring men, but Colby's eyes didn't meet mine; they were glued to the action happening a good fifteen yards away.

"Hmm," I hummed thoughtfully. "Romeo's an acquired taste."

"So is semen."

I coughed in an attempt to clear my airway of the milkshake that had taken a detour, wheezing to catch my breath as I stared at Colby, bewildered by his input.

The two men on the lawn paused their intense workout, their attention on the source of the sudden noise. On me.

I smiled sheepishly and gave them an awkward half-wave before I turned back to the blond at my side and hissed, "You're a menace."

The subtle glance Colby gave me wasn't very subtle. "So... Vitt's also a looker," his voice failed its mission of sounding indifferent. "How did date night go?"

I swallowed, absentmindedly stirring my milkshake with the bendy plastic straw. My face was getting warmer by the second and I wasn't certain whether it was a result of the scorching sun, or of the memories that flooded to the forefront of my mind.

Footsteps caught my attention, and Colby and I both pushed away from the railing surrounding the porch.

I turned around and was met by a familiar face; I recognized him from the meeting I had interrupted some time back.

"Miss Milan," he greeted and held out his hand for me. His black hair wasn't slicked back this time but fell around his face in a messy yet styled look. A pair of sunglasses kept his gray eyes hidden and he was dressed in a pair of shorts and a tight-fitting t-shirt. "Pleasure to see you again."

He brought my hand to his lips, leaving the whisper of a kiss on the back of it. His expression was unlike the one I'd seen with his father around; his lips were pulled into a relaxed smile and his jaw seemed to hold significantly less tension.

"I never got to formally introduce myself: I'm Matteo Agosti," he pulled his sunglasses off and hung them from one of his pockets.

"What's he doing here?" Colby had sneaked up beside me, eyeing Matteo the way a child would a stranger they dislike.