Devil’s Thirst: A Mafia Stalker Romance (The Moretti Men Book 1)
Devil’s Thirst: Chapter 35

I’m legit torn about whether to sit in the front seat by Sante or in the back with Freya. For a hot minute, I even consider having her sit on my lap in the front. After two hours of bonding and learning all about our new fur baby, I’m completely smitten, and I don’t want her to be nervous leaving the only family she’s ever known.

When she hops in the back seat and immediately lies down with a doggy smile, I realize I may have been projecting. She doesn’t seem nearly as anxious as I do on her behalf.

We take the long drive back into the city, and I sneak regular peeks at Freya every few minutes. Neither of us had pets growing up, but Sante tells me about the animals on his uncle’s farm. We discuss how to manage walks and exercising her. I debate whether she’d allow me to put cute outfits on her. Sante stares at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. I concede that an array of festively themed collars might suffice.

On our way back to the apartment, we stop at a pet supply superstore. My gorgeous girl gets compliments right off the bat. I wear such an obnoxious grin as we browse the store that I’m lucky someone doesn’t suggest I be committed.

I give one more go at suggesting an adorable pink doggy shirt that says girl boss in sequins on the back.

“Probably best not to make the killing machine look inviting,” Sante says dryly.

I gape at him and cover Freya’s ears. “Don’t you dare call my princess a killing machine.”

He cocks a brow at me. “Babe, I didn’t pay fifty thousand for her to play fetch.”

My ears begin to ring.

“Fifty thousand dollars?” I breathe. “Tell me you’re joking.”

He flashes a satisfied smirk. “Now she gets it.”

I stand awestruck as he continues toward the leashes and collars. My trust fund is plenty sizable, but having money doesn’t mean I’m used to throwing it around. I’ve always thought of my savings as a backup plan. For the most part, I live on what I make. Fifty grand is a crap ton of money for a dog.

“What about this one?” Sante holds up a bright red collar when I catch up to him. The red would be pretty against her fur, but it’s so … boring. We were given her current collar and leash, but they’re black, which is even more boring than red. An exquisite dog deserves an exquisite collar.

I gasp when I spot a teal collar with bright pink flamingos, and it even has a flower made of the same fabric decorating the side. “This one.” I beam. “It’s perfect for summer.”

“I suppose that works,” he concedes in a teasing grumble.

We grab the matching leash, then head to the dog bed section. I insist on letting her pick out her bed. We place the options on the floor, then let her walk around them to see if she’s drawn to one. She walks right past the first two, then steps on the third and sniffs it with interest.

“We have a winner,” I say excitedly. “That leaves food, bowls, treats, bones, toys, and poop bags—anything else?”

“Should we think of something else, we can manage to replace our way back here.”

“Definitely. We’ll need to get a Fourth of July collar at the very least.”

He shakes his head with a wry smirk. “I’ve created a monster.”

I hug his middle and snuggle my head under his chin. “Nah, you keep the monsters away.”

His lips press a kiss to my forehead. “Always. Now, let’s get this shit done. I got a text from my cousin Tommy that he’s waiting for me at my place—well, Mr. Sorrell’s place. He needs a hand, and it’s a good chance to introduce you.”

“Are you two close?”

“He’s my best friend. He even went to Sicily with me so I didn’t have to go alone.” He pauses before continuing. “Keep in mind, he can be a little quirky. That’s just Tommy—it’s nothing personal.”

I’m intrigued and excited that he wants to introduce me to more of his family, especially someone he considers his best friend. I’m surprised this is the first I’ve heard of Tommy, but we’ve been pretty absorbed in other matters. It’s nice to do something normal like meeting his friends. Getting to know them helps me know more about him.

Inspired not to dally, we check off the last items from our shopping list and head back to the apartment. We stop at my place first to unload as much of the new dog gear as our arms can carry. I show Freya around her new home.

“She’s had a big day. I say we put out some food and water and let her settle in while we head next door.”

I’m reluctant to leave her, but he’s right. She could use some downtime, and I’m ready to meet Tommy. We get her things laid out. I kneel to give her kisses and explain that I’ll be right back so she shouldn’t worry, promising to brush her when we return.

We pop next door, which feels incredibly odd now that I know it’s not technically Sante’s apartment. He has use of the place for another month. I suppose he’s planning to take full advantage.

“Tom, I’d like to introduce you to Amelie. Amelie, this is my cousin Tommy. He’s Renzo’s baby brother.”

I shake Tommy’s hand, noting his glower at Sante over the baby brother comment. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“You, too.” He nods, almost mechanically, then turns to Sante as if dismissing me. “I found a place that works. I thought I’d pay cash, but the bank in Sicily is giving me shit. You already transferred some money here, right?”

“Yeah, but I doubt it’s enough. I don’t keep that kind of money liquid.”

“I only need an escrow deposit while I get this bank crap figured out.”

The two guys stand by the kitchen island while I migrate toward the living room and lean on the back of the sofa. I see what Sante meant by Tommy being quirky. He comes off as aloof, but I know Sante wouldn’t be best friends with someone genuinely full of himself.

In a way, I’m glad they’re ignoring me. It gives me a chance to observe their interaction. Their comfort level with one another is unquestionable. They act like brothers. And they bear a passing resemblance. From behind, I might even confuse their similar builds, but their overall looks are very distinct. Most obviously, Tommy’s vibrant blue eyes and Sante’s tattoos stand out in stark contrast when compared to the other.

They continue with their conversation until Tommy takes a phone call. That’s when my entire world screeches to a halt.

He launches into a conversation in what I assume is Italian since he’s apparently lived there with Sante for the past four years. I look at the two men, so similar in size, and images flash through my head.

The man in the hoodie smoking in the theater.

That man terrifying me in the dressing room, speaking another language.

Sante coming back from Italy for me.

Sante smoking outside our building, somehow intuiting I had a stalker.

He knew where I lived before he moved in next door and had been keeping tabs on me.

He orchestrated everything about our reunion.

The stalker was the only reason I reached out to Sante.

A stalker who never laid a hand on me except to protect me.

It can’t be.

He wouldn’t have…

I creep slowly forward, eyes glued to Tommy. I feel Sante, still as a statue, stare boring into me, but I ignore him. I have one thing on my mind.

When I reach Tommy, I press my nose close to his chest and inhale. I do it again a bit farther up. He holds his hands away as if expecting me to bite at any moment.

“No smoke,” I say in a heartbroken hush.

“I don’t smoke.” His brows knit together in bafflement as he looks at his cousin for an explanation.

My eyes scrunch tightly shut as realization plows into me like a wrecking ball, shattering the perfect world I’d started to construct in my head.

“It was you.” I open burning eyes and level Sante with a world of accusation. “It was you the whole time.”

His resolute stare is all the confirmation I need.

When my mother betrayed me, it hurt but wasn’t all that unexpected. She’d never pretended to love me. While I haven’t known Sante for long, he’d made me believe he actually cared.

His betrayal carves a gaping wound in my already mottled heart.

“How could you?” Fury rises inside me like a wrathful Valkyrie. He made me think The Society was after me—maybe not intentionally, but he terrified me regardless.

I shove Sante as hard as I can.

“Amelie, calm down. Let’s talk about it.” He takes my wrists in his hands as I loose a savage scream.

“How dare you tell me to calm down?” Righteous tears blur my vision. I’m only vaguely aware of Tommy slinking from the apartment. All my rage is focused on the man who has been making a fool of me since the day we met. “You manipulated me. Terrified me by acting like a stalker—you were in my bedroom watching me sleep! And that wasn’t the first time, was it? The things that appeared out of nowhere, making me think I was going nuts. It was you. I called the cops because of you, and that put me in actual danger. Talbot might have never bothered me again if it wasn’t for you.” I yank my hands from his grasp, my chest heaving.

“I had no way of knowing that, and I never meant to manipulate you.”

“Oh, so having Tommy pretend to be the stalker so you could scare him off—that wasn’t meant as a show for my benefit?” How stupid does he think I am?

“No, ahhh, fuck.” He slams his fist into a kitchen cabinet, shattering the wood panel. Freya barks next door, but we both ignore her. “I was trying to figure out why you wouldn’t call the cops.”

“So Tommy had to get his jaw broken so you’d know why I wasn’t reporting my stalker?”

“Isaac technically didn’t know about the stalker,” he tries to explain, only digging himself deeper.

“Oh, the fake neighbor you created needed information about the fake stalker you also created—all of it an intricate web of lies—for what?” I raise my hands out to my sides, at a loss to understand. “So you could date me? The only way that makes any sense is in terms of manipulation. You wanted me to act and feel certain ways rather than get to know the real you.”

“You have everything backward. The point is, I wanted you to see exactly who I am,” he growls, his anger getting the better of him. “I’m the man who sees what he wants and goes after it. I’m the man who will break a man’s jaw before I let him disrespect you. You think I couldn’t walk past those Russians? I did that because I wanted you to see.”

“Why? So I’d be scared of you?”

“No, so you’d love me in spite of it all,” he roars. “Because this is who I am.” He slaps a palm against his chest. “I will track you and mark my body with your name and annihilate every one of your enemies. I won’t hide that from you and trick you into thinking you’ve married some motherfucking Prince Charming because I’m not. I’m the villain, and I want you to love me anyway.”

Heartbreak wraps its vicious claws around my chest and squeezes the air from my lungs.

“This isn’t healthy, Sante.” Tears leave salty trails down my cheeks as the weight of the world settles on my shoulders. “This isn’t how trust is formed.”

He steps closer, eyes gone dark as midnight. “Do not decide how to view us based on someone else’s standards. Fuck healthy. Fuck normal. Have I ever hurt you?”

I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, knowing that aside from this moment, I can’t honestly say yes.

“No, but—”

He doesn’t let me continue. “How do I make you feel when you’re around me? That’s what you should be asking yourself—not whether this is healthy. You and I, we aren’t healthy. We’re both fucked up in a way that we’re perfect for one another. You know it’s true if you’re honest with yourself. So what’s it going to be, Amelie? Are you going to let yourself be happy, or will you run?”