The Don and His Mafia Princess: Book Two of The Costanzo Series - Standalone

CHAPTER 8

STEFANO

I watch Andrea's retreating form, her hips swaying seductively with each step. The sight would typically set my blood on fire, but right now, a different kind of heat simmers in my veins - the slow burn of frustration and confusion. It's a foreign feeling, not knowing what I did to provoke her anger. Usually, I'm all too aware of the buttons I've pushed, the lines I've crossed. But I'm at a loss this time, and it doesn't sit well with me. Not one fucking bit.

I pull out my phone and dial the one person who might have some insight into the inner workings of Andrea's mind - my sister, Aurora. She picks up on the second ring, her voice bright and bubbly as always. "Hello, brother!"

"Andrea is angry with me," I say without preamble, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

"Isn't she always?" Aurora quips, and I can practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone.

"This time, it's different." I quickly recount our conversation, the words bitter on my tongue.

Aurora's sharp intake of breath crackles through the speaker. "You fucked up!" she hisses, her tone making it clear just how badly I've stepped in it.

"How?" I demand, my grip tightening on the phone.

"I'm not going into details, but Andrea is sensitive about situations like this. I advise you to apologize and tell her who fucking attacked you." She pauses, her voice softening slightly. "And I can't believe you weren't going to tell me. Are you okay? Were you hurt in any way?"

I tune out her concerned rambling, my mind already racing with this new information. Andrea has always been an enigma, a puzzle I couldn't quite solve. Five years ago, I thought I had her figured out. But now, I realize just how little I know about the woman who simultaneously infuriates and captivates me.

"Thank you, Aurora," I cut in, not wanting to hear any more of her fretting. "And don't you fucking dare tell mom about what happened. Goodbye." I hang up before she can protest, shoving the phone back into my pocket.

I lean against the wall, dragging a hand down my face as I try to make sense of it all. I want to understand why my words struck such a nerve with Andrea, but I don't have the first clue where to start. With a growl of frustration, I push off the wall and head toward my room to shower. I have business to attend to, and I can't afford to be distracted by a pair of blue eyes and a sharp tongue, no matter how tempting they may be.

***

Later in the day, I return home, frustration simmering beneath my skin after a fruitless attempt to uncover the identity of my attackers. The kitchen beckons, and I head straight for the fridge, seeking the cool relief of water to quench the fire in my veins. I'm on my second glass when the soft padding of footsteps alerts me to another presence.

I turn, the fridge door swinging shut behind me, and the sight that greets me steals the breath from my lungs. Andrea stands in the doorway, her long legs on display in a pair of sinfully short shorts, the smooth expanse of her neck and collarbones tantalizingly exposed by the thin straps of her camisole. My gaze rakes over her, drinking in every curve and dip before finally meeting her eyes.

But she holds my stare for only a moment before looking away, her jaw tight with lingering anger. The sight of her displeasure sits like a lead weight in my gut. I don't like it. I don't fucking like it one bit.

Clearing my throat, I break the tense silence before she can leave. "I don't know," I say, the words heavy on my tongue. She pauses, her back still turned to me, but I know she's listening. "The only leads I have so far come from the bullets that were shot at me that night. They're unique, but even that's barely anything." I place one of the bullets on the counter between us, a small peace offering.