Malavita by Dana Delamar Page A

questioned? What if the polizia are called in?”
    “I didn’t hurt anyone. And they won’t say a word.”
    She shook her head again. “You’re so certain.”
    “They may be stupid, but they aren’t suicidal.”
    “You would kill them over an insult?”
    “ They don’t know what I’m capable of.”
    “You’re as bad as my father. Terrifying people to get your way.”
    His face flamed. “I am nothing like your father.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. I did that because I hated seeing you hurt. Not for any other reason.” He touched her cheek. “What hurts you, Toni, hurts me.”
    “So this really was about you then.” She gave him a wry smile.
    He grinned in return. “You’re twisting my words all around, and you know it.”
    “I’m not done being mad at you,” she said, but she relaxed her shoulders and blew out a breath.
    He brushed her hair back and kissed her. Heat flared through him at the contact, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, making the kiss possessive, demanding. And making her press both hands into his chest to separate them. Madonna . It took all his willpower not to snatch her back against him. “Are you done now?” he asked.
    “Am I done what?”
    “Being mad at me.”
    She shuffled her feet and looked down, then she met his gaze and tapped him on the chest with the top edge of her book. “That wasn’t fair.”
    “Who says I have to fight fair?”
    “I do.”
    He mock-frowned at her. “Now you’re taking all the fun out of it.”
    She laughed at his exaggerated expression. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”
    “Definitely not.”
    They were just about to get into Enrico’s car when Dario stepped in front of them. “Are you done making a spectacle of my sister?” he asked.
    “Dario, it was nothing,” Toni said.
    “Does Papà know he’s here? Does he know that you let Lucchesi kiss you?”
    She said nothing, and Enrico jumped to her defense. “That was my doing.”
    “I’m sure it was. My sister isn’t some troia you can paw in public.”
    Enrico boiled inside, but Dario was within his rights. “I won’t do it again.”
    “No, you won’t.” Dario took Toni by the elbow and steered her toward his car. She looked over her shoulder at Enrico, but didn’t protest. Was her brother’s hold over her that strong?
    Or did she care about Enrico so little?

 
     
     
CHAPTER 5
     
     
    As Dario pulled out of the school parking lot, Antonella looked once again back at Enrico, this time turning her whole body. She raised a hand, as if to wave, but let it drop. Enrico just stared at her, clearly perplexed.
    How could she ever explain the connection that she and Dario shared? He was her brother, her friend, her closest companion during childhood. Beyond that, they were twins. They’d had their own language growing up, a special code only they’d understood. It had driven Papà mad. And because Dario had refused for years to speak normal Italian—even though he understood it—their private language had infuriated their father even more.
    No matter how Papà had raged at or threatened him, Dario had remained intransigent. He’d spoken to their parents only through Toni. She’d tried many times to get Dario to cave in to Papà, but he’d never yielded.
    When they were around four years old, Dario had finally started to speak Italian. He’d never apologized or explained himself, and when Papà had smirked and said, “I knew you’d stop at last,” Dario had refused to speak altogether for another week.
    She’d never met a person as stubborn as her brother. Mules could go to him for lessons.
    They drove in silence for some time, then Dario said, “Why didn’t you come get me?”
    “They wouldn’t let me leave.”
    “How long has this been going on? I thought it had stopped.”
    “So did I.”
    When she ignored the question, he asked again. “How long?” His voice was gentle, soft.
    She shook her head. “It had stopped. It started again today. I