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Santini appeared around the corner. Bella stopped a few paces away from them, her eyes going to Kennedy. Like all the Santini, she was stunning. Though, her blue eyes and heart-shaped face were not only beautiful, but sweet-looking. Bella dropped her gaze and rolled her wheelchair past them. Kennedy pushed away from the door and started following her, the bitch in heat. Ivy had caught the lesbian Viper sitting on Bella’s lap the other day, hitting on the poor woman.
    Bella glanced over her shoulder at Kennedy, her eyes going wide. Kennedy grabbed the back of the wheelchair, telling Bella she’d take her wherever she wanted to go. Ivy shook her head, knowing that Kennedy didn’t have a chance in hell with Bella, since the woman was straighter than Brando’s fat cock.
    Ivy breathed out, wishing she could get Brando out of her mind, the man already owning it.

 
     
    4
    “Get some freaking clothes on before Brando gets here,” Vinnie said, walking into his twin’s room. They shared a small house out the back of their family mansion. It was a place where they could play their music without the others bitching. There were a few rooms: a bedroom each, along with a storage room, a bomb shelter in the basement, an adjoining lounge and kitchen, and their soundproof music studio, where they were cutting their first album.
    Vinnie’s twin grinned at him. Dominic had a towel wrapped around his hips, his body still damp from the shower. Colorful tattoos covered both his brother’s arms, the water designs on his left one standing out the most. He also had silver rings in his nipples, a pierced eyebrow, a small bullring in his nose, and a stud in his tongue, his twin having a piercing fetish.
    “Why bother getting dressed when the chicks will only rip my clothes off,” Dominic said, scratching his nuts through the towel.
    “Just get some clothes on before Brando gets here or that sadistic bastardo will pistol whip you for making him wait.”
    Dominic dropped his towel, the Prince Albert in his cockhead making Vinnie grimace. His brother picked up a pair of jeans off the polished wooden floor and yanked them on. The jeans settled halfway down his bare ass, displaying too much of his front as well.
    “Put on some boxers,” Vinnie said, sitting down on Dominic’s bed.
    “Got none clean, forgot to put them out for the wash.”
    “Then at least wear a belt or a long shirt to cover everything.”
    The sound of footsteps approaching the room pulled Vinnie’s gaze to the doorway. Brando entered through the opening, looking like a hitman—which he actually was. Their brother was dressed to the nines, decked out in a black suit and leather gloves. Under his jacket, he was wearing a white shirt and a holster, the latter holding a .22 handgun. He also looked freshly showered, his black hair still damp.
    “We’re going to the club, not a hitman’s convention,” Dominic said. “Change into some jeans or you’ll stand out like Vinnie in a gay bar. Actually, that’s not a good analogy, considering what he’s wearing.”
    Vinnie pushed off the bed, wanting to hit his twin. “I don’t look gay,” he snapped, feeling insulted, “and you’re the one who fucks anything with a pulse.”
    Dominic grinned. “I’m not the one dressed like one of the Village People.”
    “I am not,” Vinnie said, his leather pants and black muscle shirt perfectly fine. “And what I’m wearing is better than your grunge-look,” Vinnie’s gaze moved to Brando, “and the Godfather outfit over there.”
    “I’m a bodyguard tonight, and bodyguards wear suits,” Brando said, smoothing a hand over his jacket, which was probably Armani, maybe Versace, his brother having expensive tastes.
    “We have enough soldati guarding us. Instead, we need you to go incognito. I want you to slip into the crowd to see if anything’s happening that we need to be concerned about. I’m still getting stalker mail, plus the heavy-breathing phone calls have