STRIP ME HOLY

My Wife. His Sister-In-Law. Our Sin.

ANDREA

Marco stood tall and cold. His suit was dark as sin itself. Even after all these years, the sight of him still cracked something deep in my chest.

"That wasn't the greeting I expected, Signore," I said, brushing off the sting in his voice.

His eyes narrowed. "I ask again, where is Alberto?"

A low sigh escaped my lips as I stepped back into the mansion. "Set the tables, Katalina," I told my cook quietly. My voice sounded calm, but my hands trembled.

His echoing steps followed behind mine.

"I am not here for your god-damn hospitality, fratellino."

"Alberto is dead." I blurted, too fast, too recklessly, my tongue betraying my patience.

"I killed—"

Crack.

His hand struck before I could finish.

In a heartbeat, the room became a battleground, with each side waiting for the first to pull the trigger.

My cheek swelled with pain as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

I gestured towards my men. "Abbassate le armi."

My eyes stung, but no tears came. My chest tightened as I forced a smile on my face.

"I haven't seen my brother in a long time. I thought we could... catch up."

He didn't flinch. His face stayed the same. Stiff as rock. "But here you are caring for some dead disloyal—"

Crack.

Another slap. This time I felt my jaw shift for sure.

"You dare call my right-hand man disloyal?" he sneered.

"He was feeding information to my enemy," I defended.

"And by your enemy, you mean me?" Marco snapped, his voice dropping with disdain. "You jealous he chose to work for me instead?"

"That's not—"

"So you killed him, huh?"

His words broke something in me... Why did he choose to behave like a d**k and not the senior brother that he was? I grabbed him by his shirt, dragging him close. His men aimed at my head, cracking their pistols; my men also did the same, aiming at his men. Another chorus of death awaiting a wrong note.

A flashing memory settled in my mind. I saw us as kids again—two boys under our father's shadow. A big brother ruffling the younger's hair, promising to protect him. All that was gone now.

Marco smirked, lifting his hand, signaling his men to stand down.

They hesitated, but slowly lowered their weapons.

"Why do you hate me so much, fratello mio?" My voice cracked; as one tear escaped before I could blink it away.

This wouldn't have been a problem three years ago.

My brother was my safe space; I could get vulnerable with him, but things weren't the same now.

My eyes rested on his rumpled collar and I was upset the more with myself—for disrespecting my brother. I wanted peace, not war.

We used to be the perfect Mafia duos... but everything changed after one night.

"I am not your brother, testa di cazzo." He sneered, the veins on his neck visible. "The only thing we share is a father. And his death has severed my ties with you."

I gulped down as I loosened my grip on his collar, forcing air into my lungs. "I have the girl," I said, turning towards a chair at the dining table. The meals were set. "You said if I could bring her, you'd forgive me."

He chuckled darkly. "You stole her from my clutches, you son of a b***h," he spat. "You broke the rules of the game."

"No, you broke it first!" I yelled, as I stumbled a glass to the floor, its shards scattering like tiny stars. "You secretly sent your men to kidnap and sell her, just so I couldn't find her!"

He leaned back on a chair opposite me, taking a slow drag from his pipe. "You messed with my game, ragazzo, and you'll pay for it."

"I am not like you who go about setting rules and breaking them," I said through gritted teeth. "I bought her. She's mine now."

"Ah, senti questo!" He laughed dryly, turning to his men. "See who claims to own a stolen good."

A humorless chuckle erupted from their midst.

To be sincere, I knew Marco was double-minded. Unpredictable—part devil, part saint. But I had planned every inch of this meeting beyond where his eyes and ears could take him.

I let their laughter stretch, long enough to make them look like sciocchies. Then I said quietly, "Does that fix all the errors of the past?"

His eyes turned sharp, like I had spoken a blasphemy. "In your nightmares."

"You did nothing," he said; his glare spitting venom. "You are simply giving back what you stole from me."

"I didn't steal her!" I screamed, loud enough to make the walls echo.

"Liar," he said softly.

That was something he always does to make his opponent look like a maniac. His voice was soft and calculating, while mine barbaric.

Well, at least... that was the message it passed through. I had seen him do this in the past, where he made his opponent appear weaker with this technique and here I was tonight. Not as the guy who would snicker at his display, but upon which was being displayed upon.

"You were always a liar," he added, his words landing like blades. "But your most outstanding talent remains the same—murder."

My stomach dropped as my heart beat increased. He still hadn't forgotten—And might never forgive me for that night. "That was years ago," I muttered. "I told you, I didn't do it."

"Then how do you explain the blood that was smeared on your hands? The body?"

"I woke up unconscious. I... I... lost my memory—"

"Bullshit!" He slammed his hand on the table. "...classic criminal behavior. Commit a crime. Claim amnesia. Escape punishment."

"I would never—" I started, almost at the brink of having a mental breakdown, my voice crooked.

Only Marco had such effect on me. And I hated it.

"Save it. Bring me the girl. I don't have all night."

My hands trembled.

So much for peace.... And Marco doesn't seem like a man of peace. Well, two could play dirty.

He might be King of the Mafias. But I was about to show him who's boss. It was time to turn the table.

I let a slow smile spread. "I don't have the girl you seek."

I could sense his jaw clench as he froze in place. "What?"

"I'd appreciate it if you called her sister-in-law instead." I tossed the marriage papers across the table. "She's my wife now."

His expression cracked. "Your what!?"

"Yes, mia moglie," I said calmly. "She's upstairs. Sleeping. Ladies always rest easy after me," I added with a smirk that made his jaw tighten...

No one said a word or even breathed. As Marco's silence lingered, the kind that carried the whispers of death.

Marco had two options. He could take her and break the sacred rule, or leave without her. Choosing the former had cost him his position. I knew he couldn't risk it.

He stood in a way that told he wasn't going to surrender. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled his pistol and shot one of my men through the skull.

BANG.

Blood painted my white marble as his blood smeared my face a little.

"Occhio per occhio," he said, stepping over the body, his eyes never leaving mine. "This isn't over, fratellino. I'll make sure you curse the day you betrayed me."

I didn't move, not even when his men marched out, the sounds of their shoes scraping the surface. I knew this wasn't over. And I was prepared for the worst.

When the last car engine faded, silence returned to the mansion.

I stood up, walking towards another room. "Arhhhhhhh," the wine shelf smashed behind me. Bottles burst. Some stuck to my skin, but I didn't care. My blood dined with the red wine across the tiles as they spilled off.

Lucas sighed as he dismissed the others quietly, his dark eyes sinking into his face. He said nothing after they left. And I was glad he didn't.

And Marco; he didn't need to say it. His silence was enough. Forgiveness had never been in his vocabulary. And I was tired of proving myself to him.

My rage slowly morphed into thought. Thoughts as vile as my brother had made them become.

I never wanted her as wife.

Plan A was to hand her over to him, end the feud and move on. But now?

Now she was my only leverage.

If he wanted Emilia so bad, I'd use her to make him bleed...

"Sir Andrea," Mama Rosa's voice broke the silence as I turned my face to the door.

"I'm sorry, boss. She said it was urgent," the guard apologized.

"Ma'am Michelle," she started, her voice uneven.

My brows arched. "Michelle? What happened to her?"

"She's back... and she's headed upstairs."

Michelle. Back already. My gut twisted.

"Emilia. Oh, fuck."