by Reilly, Cora
Fear flashed across her face. I reached between us, flicked her clit, and eventually she had to surrender to me—as they always did—and she came. I followed a few moments later, pulled out of her, threw the condom into the toilet, and left her standing there.
Luca and I decided to meet in Nashville. It was neutral ground, which was the best option for a second meeting considering we’d both be alone. Luca sized me up as I walked over to him in the deserted parking lot of an abandoned cinema complex.
I held out my hand for him to shake. He took it and to my surprise he didn’t try to squeeze my hand into dust like some people did when they wanted to intimidate. Maybe he knew it didn’t have that effect on me.
“We meet again,” he said with narrowed eyes. “Last time we didn’t get to talk in private. You were the one who threatened my wife.”
“I didn’t threaten her,” I objected. “I found a weakness in your safety measures, and Remo pointed it out to you to stop you from killing him.”
Luca’s gaze hardened. “You won’t threaten my wife ever again.”
Maybe the average person was afraid of him, but I regarded him coolly, my pulse as calm as always. “Scare tactics don’t work with me. I don’t have the disposition for them to have an effect on me. I have no intention of threatening your wife in the future. I think a truce between the Famiglia and the Camorra is the logical solution to our problem with the Outfit, and for truce to work, we will have to agree not to threaten or kill each other for the time being.”
Luca regarded me for several seconds, a sneer on his face. “Are any of you Falcone brothers sane?”
“What is your definition of sanity?” I asked. “Society regards neither you nor I as sane. We are psychopaths because we enjoy killing. Or are you trying to tell me you feel guilty when you torture and kill?”
Luca shrugged. “Maybe we are psychopaths, but you and Remo make most psychopaths look sane.”
I knew Remo and I were the result of the same catalyst. Animals adapted to their environment if they wanted to survive. It was an evolution process that sometimes happened on a small scale within a single being. Remo had turned toward his emotions, had let them loose, and as a result had barely any control over his rage.
My body had survived by getting rid of emotions altogether. I preferred my adaption to his. It made life more predictable.
Adamo hadn’t been born when Remo and I became the men we were today, and Savio had been only three years old, too young to understand or remember. They didn’t share Remo’s and my dispositions. “I’m perfectly capable to act accordingly based on society’s standards if I want.”
“And you want to marry for truce?”
“It is the only reason why I would consider marrying,” I said honestly. “Marriage really serves no other purpose. I don’t need companionship. I have that in my brothers and Fabiano. And I don’t need marriage to fulfill my sexual drive. There are enough women in Las Vegas for that.”
Luca let out a dark laugh. “I believe you.”
“I got the impression that you were in favor of a marriage between our families.”
“I’m not in favor, but as you said, it is the logical choice. I have to think of the Famiglia and my own family. I don’t want you crazy Falcone fuckers on my back. I prefer you making Cavallaro’s life hell. I have my hands full with the Bratva. I don’t want to deal with him. That you’re going to kill Scuderi in the most brutal way anyone could come up with is an added bonus.”
“Then it’s settled. Given your family’s background, your Captains and Underbosses are in favor of the union, I presume.”
“They follow my judgment, but arranged marriages are very popular in the Famiglia, of course.”
Arranged marriages were still popular even among the Camorrista. “Have you chosen a woman for me yet?”
Luca’s mouth tightened. “It won’t come as a surprise if I tell you that most of my Underbosses and Captains aren’t eager to send one of their daughters to the Camorra. The name Falcone has a certain reputation.”
“I’m perfectly capable of fulfilling my duties as a husband. I can provide protection, father children, and money isn’t a problem either.”
Luca grimaced. “I don’t give a fuck about that. What I want to know is if I will have to attack Vegas to save one of my cousins from you and your brothers.”
“You won’t have reason to save anyone, and even if you tried, Las Vegas is too strong for you. But I assure you, my wife won’t suffer violence.” I paused. “And must I remind you that it’s your family who upholds the tradition of bloody sheets and not ours? That forces any husband’s hand on the wedding night.”
“Some traditions can’t be overruled.”
“The question remains: Do you have someone in mind?”
Luca nodded. “One of my cousins is of marrying age. Her guardians suggested her for the union. She won’t be sad to leave the Famiglia.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Guardians? What is wrong with the girl?”
“Nothing. She’s more than capable of becoming a wife, but her father, my Uncle, was a traitor, and many people won’t let her forget it. She grew up with our Aunt Egidia.”
“A traitor’s daughter for us. Some people might consider that an insult.”
“Will your brother Remo be one of them?”
It was always hard to say with Remo, but he didn’t give a fuck about family history. “Remo judges people by their own actions, not by their parents’ wrongdoings. And she is still your cousin.”
He reached for his back pocket, and I lifted my hand to my holster.
Tension shot through Luca’s body. “Phone.” He pulled out his cell, and after a moment he turned it to me. On the screen was an image of a young woman with dark brown eyes and almost black hair but her naturally olive skin was rather pale, which suggested she didn’t leave the house very often. “This is my cousin, Kiara Vitiello. Nineteen. An honorable woman.” The last was said with a hint of warning.
“She will do,” I said.
Luca put his phone back into his back pocket. He nodded once then sighed. “Then it’s settled.”
I returned late that night to our mansion. Remo was awake as usual. He never slept more than a few hours. He got up from the sofa the moment I stepped into our game room. Savio and Adamo were busy playing a video game, some kind of race. Adamo was in lead; just like in real life, he knew how to drive a car.
“And?” There was a hint of eagerness in Remo’s voice. I wasn’t sure if he hoped Luca had disagreed after today’s meeting so we could attack the Famiglia or if he really wanted peace. Remo only ever thrived in chaos and violence.
“He suggested one of his cousins, Kiara Vitiello.”
“If her last name is Vitiello, her father must be one of Luca’s traitorous uncles.”
“You are right. Her father was killed for betraying Luca.”
“So he gives us the daughter of a traitor?” Remo asked in a low voice.
“We don’t care about these kinds of things.”
Remo threw one of his knives at one of the armchairs, and it wedged itself into the leather. There were more holes in it already. “But the Famiglia does. The arrogant asshole probably wants to send some fucking message with the marriage.”
“Perhaps Nino is meant as a punishment for her,” Savio mused as his car crashed into a wall, his brown eyes alight with what I assumed was amusement. Adamo didn’t seem to care that he won the game. He put down his controller and regarded me with a face that was probably supposed to convey boredom.
“Sometimes I think Nino is my punishment as well,” Remo said. “It makes sense that Luca would punish his cousin by giving her to Nino.”
I had considered that option as well, but Luca wasn’t the type to punish a woman like that, especially an innocent woman. “If it wasn’t for me, you would be long dead.”
Remo shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll never know.”
“So you’re really going to marry?” Adamo asked
. His hair had grown too long and fell into his eyes so he had to push it back constantly. Unlike me, he never put it in a ponytail or styled it back.
“I am.”
“But you haven’t even met the woman. What if you can’t stand her?” Adamo asked.
Savio rolled his eyes. “Could you sound any more like a pussy? You really need to get fucked.”
Adamo’s face turned red. “Shut up.”
“Come on, you are almost fourteen. When I was your age, I’d already fucked a few girls.” Savio looked at Remo. “Lock him in a room with a few hookers so they can fuck him into shape.”
Adamo shoved Savio’s shoulder. “Shut up! I don’t need your hookers.”
“If you want to be a real Falcone, you can’t be a fucking virgin. It’s pathetic. Or perhaps you are a fag?”
Adamo jumped up and threw himself at Savio. They both tumbled to the ground and began punching. Adamo hadn’t yet fought in the cage like Savio, so it wasn’t wise of him to attack.
Remo shook his head, but he didn’t intervene. I moved closer to get a better view in case things got too rough. Savio had gotten the upper hand and straddled Adamo, punching him hard once, twice, and then lifted his arm for another punch. I took a step forward to stop him, but Remo swung himself over the sofa, landed beside Savio and grabbed him by the collar before pulling him off Adamo and shoving him away. Savio landed on the sofa, breathing hard and making a move to get back up.
“You stay there,” I ordered. His eyes held challenge before he nodded and slumped against the backrest.
Adamo was sprawled out on his back, face red and lips busted. He shook but made no move to stand. Remo bent over him and held out a hand. Adamo didn’t take it, only glared. “Adamo,” Remo said. “Don’t try my fucking patience.”
Adamo accepted Remo’s hand and let him pull him to his feet. Adamo winced, then with a last glare at Savio, he stormed toward the French doors and fled outside.
“Fuck, perhaps he’s really into guys,” Savio said, scrunching up his face. Then his eyes widened. Sometimes when we were out on business, he managed to act like a man, but in moments like this it became obvious that he wouldn’t be turning seventeen for another month. At his age, Remo and I had already been hardened by years on the street. I wasn’t sure if we’d ever been teenagers. “Will you kill him, then?”
Remo got into Savio’s face. “We are brothers. We will stand by each other. I don’t care if Adamo is into fucking goats or ducks or men. He is our brother.”
Savio nodded slowly. “He’s annoying as fuck. If fucking a guy makes him more tolerable, I can live with that.”
Remo snorted. Then he turned to me. “Talk to him. You are the only one who can deal with him.”
I headed into the garden, following the stench of smoke, toward one of the lounge chairs beside the pool. Adamo was hunched over, smoking a regular cigarette. Since Remo’s last warning, he hadn’t touched anything harder. I was curious how long that would last. I ripped the butt out of his mouth and threw it into the pool. “No drugs.”
“It’s a cigarette, not pot or heroine,” he mumbled.
I pulled another chair toward him and sat down across from him. “What’s going on?”
He glared. “Nothing.”
“Adamo, if you want to be treated like an adult, you have to act like one. Now tell me why you are acting the way you do.”
His gaze lowered to his sneakers. “I don’t want to screw a hooker or any of the strippers you take home.”
“That became obvious when you attacked Savio. What did I tell you about fighting?”
“Only attack if you are sure you can beat your opponent.”
“You can’t beat Savio. Not yet.”
“I won’t ever be as good as all of you. I don’t enjoy hurting people as much as you do.”
I had figured as much. Adamo had never been a very violent child. “You are strong and a good fighter. You don’t have to enjoy hurting or killing to be good at it.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to kill again.”
He had killed his first man during the attack on Roger’s Fight Arena, and unlike Remo, Savio, and I, his first murder haunted him. “You will get used to it.”
“Maybe I don’t want to get used to it,” he muttered. “I’m not like you.”
“You have time,” I said. There was no use discussing this now. He still had five months until he turned fourteen; he wouldn’t be inducted until then. “What’s your problem with the women your brothers and I take home?”
He stiffened and his head shot up. “I’m not gay.”
I regarded him but his face remained in the shadows, making it even harder to read him. “Remo wouldn’t punish you for it. We are brothers, Adamo. Nothing will change that.”
Adamo gnawed on his lip then winced.
“I will have to stitch that up.”
He nodded. “I’m not gay.”
I tilted my head, but he continued without further prodding.
“I don’t want a hooker because they don’t even like you. They screw you because you are their boss or because they are scared. I don’t want that. I want a girl who likes me and who wants to be with me.”
“In our world it’s difficult to find that.”
“Because you aren’t looking. Fabiano found Leona.”
“He did, but he went through a lot of women before that.”
Adamo shrugged. “I don’t want to be forced to sleep with a hooker.”
“Remo won’t force you nor will I.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I couldn’t understand Adamo’s reasoning. He was a teenage boy. At some point his sexual drive would be too strong to wait for someone he cared about, even more someone who cared for him. “But, Adamo, we are Falcones. People always act differently around us. Finding someone to trust is difficult.”
“Don’t you want your future wife to like you?”
“Affection isn’t necessary for a marriage. I have no expectations like that.”
“But what if she wants affection?” His mouth twisted at the word, and he winced again.
I gave him a look and stood. “You know me.”
Adamo shrugged. “I kind of feel sorry for her.”
“Come on. Let me stitch up your lip now.” Maybe I would have felt sorry for Kiara Vitiello as well if I were capable of it.
CHAPTER 4
KIARA
Aunt Egidia looked incredibly pleased as she entered the library where I had been hiding all day from her and my uncle. “Luca had a meeting with Nino Falcone today.”
I put down the book I was reading, trying to keep my face emotionless. “And?”
“Luca showed Nino a photo of you, and he agreed to marry you.”
She watched me expectantly as if she thought I’d do a happy dance because Nino had approved of my looks. I swallowed hard. “That’s good news.” It was all I could manage, and it lacked enthusiasm.
My aunt pursed her lips. “Kiara, really, I don’t think you grasp what this means.”
Oh, I knew exactly what it meant, and that was the problem. “It takes some getting used to, the idea of marrying him, Aunt Egidia. Don’t worry, by the time I’ll have to marry him, I’ll be able to convey my excitement properly.”
It was a blatant lie. If I managed not to flinch at every touch, that would be a huge success.
“Well, you don’t have much time. Remo Falcone insists things progress quickly. The wedding is set for four weeks from now.”
I dug my fingers into the leather of the armchair, the color draining from my face. “Four weeks? But that’s not enough time to plan everything.”
Definitely not enough time to mentally prepare myself for marrying a Falcone—if I could even prepare for something like that.
“Don’t worry. I already contacted a few bridal shops. Of course some of the most popular dresses are already sold out, but they assured me that they have enough beautiful pieces left.”
�
��That’s good,” I said in a monotone voice.
Aunt Egidia nodded. “Aria and Giulia will join us. I already talked to both of them, and they are excited. Aria was so nice to make an appointment with the best bridal store in New York. New York seems the most sensible choice, given that we can’t expect the wife of the Capo to travel all the way to Baltimore. Of course, the store managed to squeeze us in tomorrow. Who could refuse Aria Vitiello?”
“Tomorrow?” I asked horrified.
“Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” I managed to say.
Aunt Egidia frowned again. “Anyway, Felix and Luca are trying to figure out the best place to hold the wedding. It’s not going to be New York. Luca doesn’t want the Falcones in his city.”
Didn’t he? I almost laughed.
“I’m sure there are enough other options,” I said quietly.
“Yes, yes. I’m sure,” Egidia said, smiling. “I should call a few florists and make arrangements with them.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that it wouldn’t make sense until we knew where the celebrations would take place. This was Aunt Egidia’s show, even if I was the main attraction.
When she left, I closed my eyes. Four weeks.
Four weeks until my wedding night.
Four weeks until Nino would want to claim his prize.
Four weeks for me to figure out a way to hide that someone had taken that prize years ago. Sickness washed over me, and I pressed a hand to my stomach.
Ten minutes later, Giulia called. “Did my mother already talk to you?”
“A few minutes ago,” I said.
Giulia sighed. “I don’t like this, Kiara. Four weeks, really? It’s like they can’t throw you at Falcone quickly enough, as if they’re worried they might start feeling guilty if they waited any longer.”