Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she happily declined. “No, thanks.” It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to cook; frankly, she just didn’t want to. It was about the only thing in her family that “societal” gender roles didn’t apply to, and she was going to take what she could get.
It would normally shock people to see Lucca—a.k.a. the boogieman—cook and actually be good at it but, to their family, it made sense. He was Italian, and every fucking Italian was practically raised in the kitchen, learning to make pasta. And, if they weren’t cooking, they were eating. Out of all of them, Lucca not only had the most experience—seeing that he was the oldest and had spent the most time with their mother before her untimely death—but he was also the pickiest. He only liked the way he cooked—the way their mother had cooked—and his palate was definitely the most refined, as Leo was more than happy to order pizza every night. Cooking was a control thing with Lucca, and only Maria realized it.
And she realized it because she understood it.
Understood him.
Their mother didn’t know something was wrong with them until Leo was born. He was the most precious, perfect baby that a mother could ask for, and every mom thought their child was the greatest gift God ever created. And, while that was true for Leo, it wasn’t for the rest of them. That was why she hadn’t seen it, thinking her first three children were too perfect for this world—until perfection actually came. Then she realized just how fucked up her first three were.
Going into the psychologist’s office as children, Nero had spent the least amount of time with the doctor, while Maria’s and Lucca’s session lasted much longer, having needed to return for several visits before a diagnosis was made. They all were classified with the same manic end their father had of antisocial personality disorder, which was just a nice word for being a psychopath.
It was rare for a child to be diagnosed with a harsh sentence, but it proved the extent of their bad genes. Genes that many mafia families throughout history carried. It wasn’t uncommon in their line of work to either be born with it or develop it over time. They were just unlucky enough to have one of the worst mental illness, if there even was such a thing.
Every psychopath was different, and each psychopath had their own fucked-up version of right and wrong, which was why they appeared so vastly different.
Nero was the most like their father. Both of them having cases much milder than the other two.
Lucca was who he was. He didn’t change for anyone and invited the world to see him for who he was. Between them all, he was the most unstable. The only thing in this fucking mad world that kept him tethered to the ground and not in hell was his fiancée, Chloe Masters.
Maria was a different story altogether. After she had heard she had ASPD, her young self had gone home and snuck into her father’s office to read one of the books he had about mental health. She discovered more about herself that day than she ever had or would. As she read each trait, it had sent tiny goosebumps up to prick her skin ….
Charming.
Narcissistic.
Cunning.
Manipulative.
Shallow.
All traits she knew she possessed but hadn’t known psychopaths carried. You would think they were loners or even losers, but they weren’t. Psychopaths were winners.
The last trait, however, was more complicated—lack of empathy. It wasn’t that psychopaths didn’t have empathy at all; it was more described as having an empathy switch, which in turn allowed them to never feel remorse.
It was what made Lucca one of the greatest underbosses in Mafia history, as every day his reputation became far stronger than their father’s.
For Maria, though, it was what made everyone underestimate her, and because she was an underestimated woman, it helped keep Maria tethered to the ground.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have empathy; there was just very little of it. The only people to whom she felt true feelings for were the women in her life and Leo. There was never a man whom she had looked at and felt something for … until Kayne. Women, though, she could meet and click with instantly. It was why everyone around her probably thought she was into women and, truthfully, she’d never been able to see herself with a man. Similar to how the men in the Caruso family expected certain things from her, other men expected certain things from women and in their future wives. That was where she fucking drew the line.
She held respect for very few men, like Lucca and Nero, but she only truly cared for Leo, and that was because Leo was everything they weren’t. He wasn’t broken and dark inside. He was pure and light. Just like their mother had been.