Mafia's Obsession: Dark Legacy

Salvatore's pov.

I stared at her as her eyes shifted from Miley who had just spoken,to me, then to Russo and Bianchi. She looked stunning in that red dress. My gaze shifted down to her heels—they fitted perfectly and that got me wondering how the hell did the bitch I'd actually asked to help me with Lyra's dress and stuff know her size? But then... Why was she standing there on the stairs, gripping the railing like her life depended on it?

Well, that was her problem. I checked my watch—we were nearly an hour and a half late, and thanks to who? Lyra.

I tilted my head, watching her face, which looked uneasy.

"Let's go," I said, and the others started moving, muttering God knows what. I turned to leave, but stopped half.

Lyra still hadn't moved.

"What the hell is wrong now? Why aren't you moving? We're already late," I snapped, grinding my teeth.

"What?" she shot back, brow pulled together. "Are our legs glued together? You go ahead! I'm right behind you. Stop annoying me!"

That was the second time she'd raised her damn voice at me, and only heavens knew how much I hated it. But fine, I'd let it slide—just this once. Just today.

"Don't even think about pulling any stunts, bitch. You'll only regret it," I warned,and she just rolled her eyes.

It had been five minutes already, and she was just now walking through the door with her steps slower than a snail's crawl, dragging the dress down with every step. I got it—she didn't want to be at this event with me, and that's why she was acting out.

If only she knew how much her childish attitude was pissing me off. And I doubted she had any clue what I was capable of. With what she did last night still fresh in my mind, if she pushed me any further, I wouldn't hesitate to hurt her—and no one would question me

I heard Bianchi heave a sigh then slam on the horn violently, startling Lyra so badly she missed her steps and twisted her ankle.

"You got a death wish or something?" I shot him a glare from the back seat.

"She's one hell of a pain in the ass," he said flatly and honestly, I couldn't help but agree. Lyra glared at the car as she adjusted her shoe, probably wishing for some superpower to burn the damn thing down.

She got in, and Bianchi floored it. Apparently, my siblings and I were split into two cars—Miley and Russo in one, Bianchi, me, and ‘my wife’ in the other. The event was a Mafioso party hosted by The Triangles, who controlled all the underground businesses in New York. The most powerful clans were invited and I was so damn sure The Russians wouldn't be left out.

The car stopped in a grand parking lot, and we got out. On the other side, I waited for Lyra. When she appeared, her focus was entirely on the dress, hissing and pulling the hem down. When she finally looked up and saw me, her frown deepened, and she let out a long, audible hiss.

She glared at me with pure hatred and tried to walk past, but I grabbed her, closing any space between us. I lifted her chin with my thumb so our eyes met—and then I realized....

Missy wasn't wearing any makeup. Just some lip gloss and eyeliner.

What kind of girl did I actually marry? She was so... different. Weirdly different.

She snapped my hand away and tried to pull free, but I slid my arm around her waist, pulling her even closer.

"what do you think you're doing?" She snorted, struggling to break free from my grip. "Get your filthy hands off me, you cowfucker!"

"Cowfucker?" I repeated, my voice unable to hide my disbelief. I swallowed hard and I sucked in my breath. Not the time to lose it—not here, not now. I leaned in close, my voice low and threatening right by her ear.

"Listen up, bitch. This isn't some low-class party you're used to. This one's business. You hear me? Business."

Her eyes blazed with anger for a moment before she lowered her gaze and clenched her teeth.

"Your anger doesn't scare me, piccola. And don't even think about messing things up—I promise, I'll make you hate me more than you already do," I warned, pushing her away—not rough and not too slow.

Tears welled in her eyes as she gripped the hem of her dress tight.

Crocodile tears. Did she think that shit would move me? Maybe back on our wedding day when they'd made me feel guilty—had me blaming myself for hours. But what did she do after that? She cheated. She fucking cheated.

I could have killed her that moment If I wanted, but no—I might still need her.

"One more thing," I said just as she turned to leave. She turned and looked back.

"Loosen that long face of yours. It only makes you look uglier..." I trailed off, catching a movement in the shadows.

I'd spotted her the moment we arrived but ignored it until now.

A smirk spread across my lips as the figure stepped into the light.

Lovely. That sly, sexy bitch.

She was the spy and seductress of the Sicilian organization.

She was dressed in her usual favorite color—black. A short, revealing gown and smoky dark makeup.

Lyra's eyes flickered to her, then back to me, frowning.

Lovelyn walked past her without a glance, making Lyra grit her teeth, her fists clenched.

"You look damn handsome tonight, boy," Lovelyn whispered loud enough for Lyra to hear, then kissed me on the cheek.

I didn't react. Didn't push her away.

That only made Lyra snap. She stormed off.

Lovelyn chuckled as I pushed her off my body.

"Looks like your little kitten couldn't take it," she said, lighting a cigar. "She looks damn sexy in that dress. Bet it'll be tough not to stare tonight."

She smirked and I glared before snatching the cigar from her lips.

"How did you know her exact size?" I asked, puffing on the cigar.

She grinned, lighting another one. "I should be asking you that. I used the exact description you gave me. Don't tell me you two have fucked—because that's the only way you'd get everything so right."

She blurted, amusement and curiosity dancing on her face.

She was curious about what exactly? What would my answer be?

I stared at her face a little longer, then scoffed.

Someone else fucked her—her man did.

"She's not my type," I muttered.

She scoffed and then burst into a menacing laugh. "We've literally been friends since we were kids, and I know you more than you even know yourself. So just quit it. You and I know you're a man whore—for you, there's nothing like type. You don't have a taste when it comes to things under skirts. I could vividly remember back when you fucked an oldie till she fainted—"

"Okay, that's enough." I cut her off. "Why are you here?"

She stepped in closer, snaking her arm around my neck. " You wouldn't let anyone come to your place, so I figured this was the only way to you," she murmured, her nose brushing against mine. "I missed you, sal."

Her voice dripped with sweetness and temptation, her breath warm against my skin. She leaned in, aiming for my lips—but I stopped her, pressing her forehead back with the tip of my index finger as I unwrapped her arm from around my neck.

"Cut it, Love."

She sighed, stepping away.

"Right," she breathed, nodding her head faintly. "I forgot you're a married man now."

I glanced at my wristwatch, then back at her.

"I need to go now, Love. Lyra's alone in there. We'll see you in Sicily." I said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

She gave a small nod and I turned walking away.

Yes, Love and I were whatever you think we were—and I don't think I owe anyone an explanation.

"Keep your eyes sharp at that fine little missy of yours," her voice rang out behind me. "There's an unpleasant, plastic-faced, ugly ass Barbie in there. You know exactly what I mean."

I didn't look back. Just nodded once and kept walking.

But who the hell could she be referring to?

Octavia?