by Reilly, Cora
She put down the knife. “When will you send her back?”
I stared down at her.
She pushed a strand behind her ear, looking away. Kiara was still quick to submit. “You will send her back, right?”
Nino came in with the Tylenol, glancing between his wife and me. He frowned but didn’t comment.
“When’s the lasagna done?” I asked.
“It should be ready now.” She gripped the handle, and I stepped back so she could open the oven. She nodded. “Perfect.”
Nino took oven mitts and gently pushed his wife to the side. “Let me.”
He set the bubbling pan onto the stove, and Kiara smiled at him, touching his arm. “Thank you.”
His expression softened, and I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. My brother loved—or whatever he was capable of—Kiara. Taking the Tylenol from his pocket, he handed it to me. “Give me a piece of lasagna for Serafina.”
Kiara pursed her lips but did as she was told. “Why can’t she have dinner with us?”
“She’s a captive,” Savio muttered as he came in. He was still pissed because of the soup incident.
“She can be a captive and eat dinner with us, don’t you think?” She looked up to Nino for help. He touched her waist and a look passed between them I couldn’t read.
Sick of their silent exchanges, I left with the lasagna and the Tylenol. When I stepped into the bedroom, Serafina was sitting on the windowsill, her arms wrapped around her legs. I wondered what kind of clothes she’d worn in Minneapolis. I couldn’t imagine she’d opted for floor-length dresses like Kiara. Serafina didn’t turn my way when I stepped in, not even when I crossed the room and set the plate down on her nightstand.
“Tell Kiara I’m sorry I wasted her soup.”
“Are you sorry?” I asked as I stopped in front of her. Her blue eyes were still firmly focused on the window.
“I’m sorry for wasting it, not for throwing it at your brother. I’m sorry I missed, though. You can tell him that.”
I stifled a smile and regarded her closely, her elegantly curved mouth, her immaculate skin. My eyes lowered to her forearm. She held her arm at an awkward angle so it wasn’t pressed up against her leg. I held out the Tylenol. “For the pain.”
Her gaze fell to my palm. Then she looked up. I could tell she considered refusing, but again she surprised me by taking the pills, her fingertips brushing the scars on my palm. Her blond brows furrowed.
“Those are burn marks, aren’t they?”
I withdrew my hand and curled it into a fist at my side. “Eat. I have plans for you tomorrow.” I turned on my heel before I walked out and locked her door.
CHAPTER 8
SERAFINA
The next morning I took a quick shower, holding my arm out of the stall so it wouldn’t get wet. The painkillers had helped with the sting. I hadn’t expected that kind of consideration from Remo, and I suspected he had ulterior motives for the gesture, but it had given me another piece of the puzzle. The scars on his palms held a special meaning. I had a feeling they were connected to the scars his tattoo covered.
The sound of the lock startled me, and I quickly put another one of Kiara’s long summer dresses on before I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair still damp and barefoot.
Remo stood with his arms crossed in front of the window, tall and dark and brooding like the love interest in romance movies. He turned and scanned my body. It was unsettling how physical his gaze felt on my skin.
“I’m taking you outside for a walk in the gardens.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”
“Would you prefer to spend your captivity holed up in here?”
“No, but I’m wary of your motives.”
Remo smiled darkly. “I want to keep you sound of mind and body. It would be a shame if these four walls broke you before I can.”
I glared at him, glad he couldn’t hear my thundering pulse.
“Now come,” he ordered with a nod toward the door, his eyes lingering on my body.
I followed after him and almost bumped into him when he paused in the hallway, glancing down at my feet. “Won’t you put on shoes?”
“I would if I had any that fit me. Kiara is a six and I’m a seven and a half.”
Remo regarded me a moment before touching my lower back, and I lurched forward in surprise. He indicated I walk ahead, the corners of his mouth tipping up, those dark eyes assessing me.
My body tingled from his touch, and my heart throbbed in my chest. Remo’s closeness terrified me, and he could tell. I made sure to keep my distance, but Remo trailed after me, his gaze burning my neck, his tall frame a shadow over my back.
I managed to relax when we stepped outside into the bright sunshine. Remo led me through the sprawling gardens that had different pools, shooting targets set up, and perfectly manicured greenery. The warm grass felt wondrous under my bare feet, but I didn’t let it distract me from my main objective: scouting my surroundings.
Remo was oddly quiet, which was unsettling because it meant something was going on behind those dark cruel eyes.
“You can try to run, but you can’t escape,” Remo said firmly when I scanned the property boundary. The high walls around the premises were topped with barbed wire, and when we walked close enough I could hear the hum of electricity.
“Are you looking for a weakness in our safety measures?” he asked with a hint of dark amusement. “You won’t find any.”
“Everything, everyone, has a weakness. It’s only a matter of finding it,” I said quietly, stopping.
Remo stepped in front of me, his dark eyes triumphant as they slowly traced the length of me. “And you are Dante’s weakness, Serafina.”
“I’m only his niece. Dante has condemned so many men to death in his life, do you really think he cares about the life of one girl?”
Remo cupped the back of my head, holding me in place as he brought our faces closer. I let him, softened in his hold, knowing it wasn’t the reaction he wanted. His dark eyes searched mine, and I had to fight not to look away.
“I wonder if you really believe it or if you hope I believe it,” he said in a low voice.
“It’s the truth.”
His lips widened in a harsh smile. “The truth is that you are a woman, something precious, something they must protect. It’s engrained in them, burned into them irrevocably from the day of their birth. Their honor dictates they keep you safe, and every second you are in my hands, they are failing you, failing themselves. With every second that passes the shame of their failure eats away at their honor. As Made Men we live on honor and pride. They are the pillars of our world, of our fucking self, and I’m going to tear them down pillar by pillar until every fucking member of the Outfit is crushed beneath the weight of their fucking guilt.”
My breath had lodged itself in my throat, and I could do nothing but stare at the man in front of me. Maybe he’d underestimated me, but I—and I feared even the Outfit—had underestimated Remo Falcone as well. His actions spoke of barely restrained violence and led you to believe that he lacked any sliver of control, that he could be driven into rash acts. But Remo was dangerously intelligent. A ruthless man with the power and wit to get his revenge.
“Maybe they will feel guilty, but they won’t waver. They won’t risk any part of the Outfit for me. Not for the soundness of my body, not for my life, and least of all for my innocence, Remo. So take either or all. You won’t weaken Dante or the Outfit.”
Remo’s thumb stroked the side of my throat. I wasn’t sure if he did it on purpose or without noticing, and it wasn’t the touch but the look in his eyes that made me shiver.
“They will protect your innocence at any cost because it’s the only pure thing in their fucking lives. They think your innocence could wash away their sins, but they breathe sin. We all do. One hundred virgins can’t wash the sin from our veins. Definitely not from mine.”
”Not even an angel?” I murmured, tilting my head
up, peering at him through my lashes. My pulse throbbed in my veins, aware of the risk I was taking. But I was forced into Remo’s game, willing or not, and I could either be a pawn or a player.
Something in Remo’s dark eyes shifted, something hungry and lethal unfurling. He leaned closer, his breath hot against my lips. “You are playing a dangerous game, Angel.”
I smiled. “So are you.”
His lips pressed against mine. I hadn’t expected it. Almost kisses, like threats ghosting over my skin, had been his tactic ... until now. This wasn’t a ghost touch. It was substantial, and yet it felt like the promise of a kiss, a threat of what lay ahead. Stunned by Remo’s action, I held his gaze. Finally, I ripped away and raised my palm to slap him, but he caught my wrist. He jerked me closer once more.
“That’s the kiss Danilo would have given you in church, and maybe even later on your wedding night. Polite. Controlled. Reverent.” His voice dipped low. “That’s not a kiss.”
Anger surged through me. “You—”
Remo’s mouth crashed down on mine, fingers bruising my hip as his other hand cradled my wrist between our bodies. His lips conquered mine, his tongue tasting the seam of my mouth, sucking at my tender lower lip, demanding entrance. Heat flushed through me, and my lips parted slightly. Barely. A flicker of submission and Remo plunged his tongue into my mouth, tasting me, consuming me. His taste was intoxicating, his body’s heat overpowering. His thumb pressed into my wrist, his palm sliding from my hip to my lower back. Small sparks of electricity followed in his touch’s wake.
My head swimming, I was unable to pull back, unable to move at all. Finally, Remo let me free. I sucked in a desperate breath, lightheaded, confused, my body tingling from head to toe.
Remo exhaled. “That, Angel, was a kiss. It’s the only kind of kiss you’ll ever get from me, and it’s the kiss you’ll use to measure every kiss that follows.”
I stumbled away from Remo, shaking. “What have you done?” I stammered. I pressed shaking fingers to my lips, horror striking down on me like lightning. That was supposed to be Danilo’s privilege. My first kiss.
Remo had taken it.
No.
I had given it away.
Remo shook his head, glowering. “I cut you with my blade and you didn’t shed a single tear, but a kiss makes you cry?”
I turned away, trying to get a grip on my emotions. All my life I had been raised to be the perfect wife, to gift myself to my husband. And just like that I’d allowed Remo to plunder part of my gift. For a moment, I felt like bawling. Then I felt Remo’s warmth against my back, not touching but lingering between us.
“Are you scared of Danilo’s wrath if he finds out his angel hides a few black feathers beneath the glowing white of her plumage?”
I glanced over my shoulder at his striking face. “You don’t know anything about Danilo or me.”
“I know your weakness, and I know his.”
I faced him once more. “You, too, have a weakness, and one day your enemies are going to use it against you with the same cruelty you bestow upon them.”
“Maybe,” he growled. “Maybe they’ll rise after I’ve burned down their pride, but not everyone is built to rise from the ashes.”
I scoffed. “You sound like a martyr. What do you know about burning?”
Remo didn’t say anything, only looked at me with cruel intention, the same expression I’d seen when he’d cut me.
My eyes darted down to the wound on my arm, and Remo’s gaze followed. Brick after brick, I was tearing down a wall Remo had no intention of lowering.
Remo grabbed my arm and led me back toward the mansion. I didn’t say anything, didn’t even look his way. I knew when to retreat, knew when to give in, because this battle had only just begun.
The second I was alone in my room, I headed into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face to clear my head. Looking up, I cringed at the state of my lips. Red and swollen.
I could still feel Remo’s touch, could still taste him. How could I have let that happen? I should have pushed him away, but I didn’t. Remo had stopped. Not only had I allowed him to steal my first kiss, I’d enjoyed it in a twisted, all-consuming way.
I walked back into the bedroom and dropped down on the bed, staring up at the dark canopy. Something about Remo overwhelmed me. He had a way of drawing me in. I lifted my arm to stare at my wound. It still felt tender but seemed to be healing. I was glad for its presence; it had not only allowed me a glimpse behind Remo’s cruel mask, it also served as a reminder of what he was: a monster. One kiss didn’t change that. I couldn’t let his manipulation get to me. Remo was Capo. He knew how to make people act how he wanted them to act.
I covered my face with my palms, taking deep, calming breaths. I wished I could talk to Samuel, see his face, be in his arms. Without him, I felt lost. He’d figure something out. My stomach constricted thinking of my brother. If Samuel knew I had allowed Remo to kiss me, hadn’t raised even a finger against him to fight him off, what would my brother think of me then? And what about Danilo? He was my fiancé. That kiss had been promised to him.
Samuel remained at the forefront of my mind. He was the person I really cared about. And my family. God, my family. I wished they’d never find out about the kiss, but I had a feeling Remo would tell them all about it.
REMO
A fucking kiss when I wanted so much more. But kissing Serafina had been like the first hit off a crack pipe. It got you addicted from the very first taste. I wanted to kiss her again, wanted to steal every piece of her innocence.
The sound of steps made me look up. Nino was headed my way and sank down on the sofa across from me. He assessed me in that analyzing way he always had.
“What happened?”
“Got a taste of Serafina.”
Nino nodded, his eyes narrowing in thought. “You kissed her?”
“Yes, but it won’t be the last taste I get of her.”
“How did she react?”
“She didn’t fight it if that’s what you’re asking,” I said quietly.
He frowned. “I didn’t come to talk to you about Serafina. It’s obviously a topic you won’t allow me to reason with you.”
“What do you want to talk to me about, then?”
“I think we should have a conversation with Adamo. Tomorrow is his day, so I want to make sure he’s on the same page as we are.”
I nodded. “It’s probably for the best. Where is he?”
Since he wasn’t playing his games, he could only be upstairs sulking or wanking off. Probably the latter considering he didn’t get any action. “I got something to sweeten the deal for him,” I said.
Nino raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you got him a car?”
I grinned. “He’s turning fourteen so why not? I’m tired of him crashing my cars. Maybe he’ll treat his own possessions with more care.”
“The legal driving age is fifteen in Nevada.”
“And drugs and homicides are against the law. What’s your point?”
“He’ll get himself killed in one of our races,” Nino drawled. “Are you going to discuss the drug issue with him?”
“I will. Why don’t you get him? We’ll take him on a test drive and have a word with him.”
“Who’s going to watch over Kiara and Serafina? Savio went off to meet with Diego again.”
“I’ll call Fabiano while you find our little brother.”
Nino got up and disappeared, and I speed dialed Fabiano. “Remo, what do you need? I’m busy with that asshole Mason.”
“Make it quick. I need you here to watch Serafina and Kiara while Nino and I have a talk with Adamo.”
“About tomorrow, I assume,” Fabiano said. I could hear a man crying in the background.
“Yeah. Be here as quick as possible.”
“Fifteen minutes.” Fabiano hung up.
Upstairs I could hear a commotion. Adamo was stomping and Nino was speaking to him in a calm drawl.
Adamo came to a halt on the last step with his arms crossed over his chest. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“Calm,” Nino murmured to me. After training together, I’d thought Adamo and I had come to a sort of truce. Apparently he’d changed his mind again.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him closer. I cut him some slack because he was a kid, but my patience had its limits. “Why don’t you wipe that sulk off your face, kiddo, or I’ll give you a reason for it.”
He jutted his chin out. “Do it. Then I’ll have another reason to refuse the tattoo tomorrow.”
“Adamo,” Nino warned.
My fingers tightened and I stared into his eyes long and hard. “Do you think you can survive on your own?”
“I have friends,” he muttered.
“Friends who keep you around because you give them weed and crack for free. They don’t give a fuck about you. If you can’t provide them with free drugs, they’ll drop you,” I growled.
Adamo blanched. “Who told you?”
“Do you think I didn’t notice that someone’s been stealing our shit for months now? Fabiano has been keeping a fucking eye on you.”
“The punishment for stealing from the Camorra is death,” he said challengingly.
“It is,” I said. “But not for you.”
The entrance door was unlocked, and Fabiano entered, shirtsleeves rolled up, forearms tinged pink. Blood was difficult to wash off.
Adamo’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”
Fabiano nodded at Nino and me in greeting.
“Fabiano talked to one of your friends, that useless piece of shit Mason.”
“You killed him?” Adamo asked horrified. Fabiano raised one eyebrow at me.