| BOOK ONE OF THE VENANDI SAGA | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE |
Teeth scrape over skin as he nips at my earlobe, "I told you..." Threading his fingers through the strands at my nape, he rolls my head to the side and his lips continue their exploration, "...
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Ash-grey cotton rests lightly on my skin, hugging my torso. Protection against my own self-doubt, its comforting threads woven into armor to conceal the restlessness within. Purchased on one of her many thrift store excursions, the t-shirt was a gift from Eden for my twenty-third birthday...
"I love you, Kole... Even if you're a Marlins fan."
...and like her, I loved it from the start.
Like her, I carried it everywhere.
Amazing how something so common to one person can be another's most prized possession. In the past, when I was a foolish, arrogant boy, I valued the glitz and glam of my world. I used to think my treasure was the deed to the club, the money in my safe, or the signet ring that symbolized my birthright, but as it turns out, the one thing I would save from the fire - the one thing that is irreplaceable, is cotton poly blend with a faded logo.
Brushing gently over the screen-printed emblem, reverent hands smooth the semi-wrinkled apparel. In the center, the teal sports fish, with its tail curled around a bold, serif "F", watches me in the mirror. A reflection of my own unease, his lone, panicked eye bulges, cautioning...
"This is your chance... Don't fuck it up."
"I'll try not to," I murmur.
"Kole! ...Kole!"
Dad's voice sounds from the front of my suite, "Shhhhit," and I brace myself for the impending battle, "I don't have time for this," as I scramble to collect my wallet, cell... "Fuck! Tickets!"
Determined footsteps in Italian leather pound the hardwood, preceding the inevitable, "Son, are you in here?" and he greets me at the entrance to my closet. "Ah, good. You've decided to drag yourself out of bed..." Noting my clothes and fresh shave, he falls silent; that patriarchal scrutiny gives me its customary once over. When it hits my sneakers, his dusty-blonde brow arcs in question, "Going somewhere?"
Mumbling, "I have a date," I shove past, nearly at a run.
Despite his age, he's a spritely sonofabitch and catches me before I can make it to the landing. "Oh, no you don't." His surprisingly strong grip clamps around my upper arm, yanking me back. "Now isn't the time for frivolities, Kole. We're under attack."
"Haaah..." It's all I've heard for two fucking weeks. Attack this and Monarch that. "C'mon, you're being ridiculous. Hell, even Parker's convinced the assassin left town." Jerking my arm free, I groan, "Besides, we aren't under anything. Ronan-"
"Is one of our closest allies and friend. Any threat against him is a threat against House Venandi. You can't just go... cavorting with some... some... girl."
