by Cora Reilly
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.
I stood and moved into the entrance hall, grabbing the keys to Adamo’s first car. Nino appeared on the stairs, a disapproving look on his face. Adamo followed close behind him with a scowl on his own baby face. Nino stopped beside me, and I could see that he wasn’t impressed by Adamo’s antics, which was why he’d gone upstairs and I hadn’t. Losing my shit on him today
wouldn’t help matters.
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.
I shook my head. It wasn’t time to divulge information yet. Adamo could do the talking.
“Don’t hurt Harper,” Adamo whispered.
I frowned at the tone of his voice. “That girl in your junkie group?”
Fabiano grimaced. “She was with Mason when I went after him, sucking his cock.”
“You’re lying!” Adamo jerked out of my grip and lunged at Fabiano, trying to land an uppercut. Fabiano blocked him and shoved him to the ground, but Adamo pushed up to his feet and went for it again. I didn’t intervene. Adamo needed to realize that his actions had consequences, and it gave me the time to stomach the fucking truth that my brother had fallen for a useless bitch who probably whispered sweet nothings in his ear in exchange for drugs.
Fabiano grasped Adamo’s arm and thrust him face-first into the wall. “Stop this shit,” he warned, “or I’m going to defend myself for real.”
He released Adamo, who turned at once, head flushed and eyes full of dread. “What did you do to Harper?”
Fabiano glanced at me. Nino shook his head at me, obviously worried I was going to lose my shit.
“Don’t tell me the little slut gave you head in return for drugs, Adamo. You should know better.” We had so many fucking whores who could suck cocks, why did he have to find a girl who used him?
Adamo glared. “Harper and I are in love. You wouldn’t understand.”
“She sucked another man’s dick. How does that mean ‘I love you?’” I snarled.
“She wouldn’t! You’re trying to ruin things for me.”
Fabiano sighed. “I’m not lying. Mason had his cock shoved up to his balls inside her mouth.”
“Shut up,” Adamo said fiercely.
“I told you it’s difficult to find what you’re looking for,” Nino told our brother. “People will always try to gain something from being with you.”
Adamo shook his head, a stubborn gleam in his eyes. “What did you do to her?”
I nodded at Fabiano.
“Nothing. I sent her away before I beat some sense into your friend.”
“He’s alive.”
“Broke a few of his bones, but alive, yes,” Fabiano said.
I should have had him killed. If I had known the exact details, I would have given the kill order.
Adamo looked relieved. “You kept them alive so I’ll take the tattoo tomorrow, right?”
“That wasn’t the plan,” I said. “I thought you’d want to be a Falcone.”
Adamo looked away. “You never spare anyone without good reason.”
“Get a drug test, Nino,” I ordered.
Nino disappeared into his wing.
“I’m clean,” Adamo blurted but his voice shook.
I turned my back to him, my fingers curling to fists. Why did Adamo have to make this so fucking hard? I wasn’t sure how to deal with his shit, especially the drugs. He needed to realize that he was treading a dangerous path.
“I told the truth,” Fabiano said to Adamo.
“Maybe Mason forced her. You don’t know anything,” Adamo muttered.
Nino returned and motioned for Adamo to follow him into the guest bathroom so he could pee on the test strip. When they emerged and I saw Nino’s expression, I lost it. I grabbed Adamo by the collar and threw him to the ground.
“What did I tell you about taking drugs? Do you want to end up like all the lost losers roaming our streets? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Adamo shrugged. “My friends and I only take it now and then to relax.”
I breathed harshly. Adamo lay completely still beneath me. I took a deep breath, stifling the fury burning through me, then got to my feet. “You won’t ever take anything again or I will kill every single of your so-called friends. Rich parents or not. And now you will take your new car for a test drive to Harper’s home and tell her you won’t give her free drugs anymore. If she wants drugs, she can come to me and pay the regular price. Understood?”
Adamo blinked up at me. “Understood,” he said slowly, sitting up. “My new car?”
I thrust the keys to the ground beside him. “Bought you that Ford Mustang Limgene in red and black that you’ve had as your screen saver for months now.”
Adamo took the keys. “For my birthday?”
“For your birthday and your initiation. Now talk to Harper and take Nino with you,” I said then walked into the living room, straight toward the punching bag. I began kicking and punching, but my rage didn’t lessen.
Fabiano joined me after a moment. “I suppose I don’t need to watch the girls anymore?”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to think about Serafina now because if I started thinking about her, I might end up ruining my own fucking plan.
Fabiano stepped in my line of vision. “That girl led him on.”
“I know,” I growled and sent the bag flying. The hook groaned but stayed anchored in the ceiling. “How about a sparring match?”
“You don’t look like you want to spar. You look like you want to destroy someone,” Fabiano commented, but he began unbuttoning his shirt. I tugged at my own T-shirt and dragged it over my head then shoved down my pants and swung myself into the boxing ring, wearing only my briefs.
Fabiano did the same and stood across from me. I motioned him forward, and he went into attack mode at once.
We hit and kicked hard and fast. Fabiano’s punches spoke of suppressed anger, and my own were fueled with fury. I shoved him into the ropes, but he caught himself. “Is this because of Serafina?” I taunted.
“No,” he shot back. “I always enjoy kicking your ass, Remo.”
He lunged at me again.
“What’s going on here?” Kiara asked from the entranceway.
We ignored her.
“If nobody bothers to give me an answer, I’ll head upstairs and talk to Serafina.”
“You won’t,” I ordered, and Fabiano landed a hard punch in my side.
Snarling, I did a sidekick and got his shoulder. “Kiara!” I held up my palm toward Fabiano to pause the match.
She froze. “I thought she could have dinner with us. I have mac and cheese in the oven.”
“You won’t go anywhere near her without someone to
watch your back, understood?”
She nodded eventually. Then her eyes moved on to Fabiano. “Why don’t you call Leona. I made enough food so you can join us.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said then jumped out of the ring. It was obvious that I wouldn’t get rid of my anger today.
“Will you bring Serafina down, then?”
“No,” I said tersely.
“Why not?” Kiara asked, and I stalked toward her. She didn’t back off as I stopped right in front of her.
“Because I don’t fucking trust myself around her today, okay?”
Kiara nodded, a deep worry line forming between her brows. “Okay.”
“I can bring her food up later,” Fabiano suggested.
I slanted him a hard look. “Yeah, why not?” My voice rang with warning.
He held my gaze for a long time until he grabbed his phone from the pocket of his pants off the ground and brought it to his ear. I put my clothes back on, not giving a shit that I was sweaty. Kiara trailed after me as I sank down on the sofa. She didn’t know what was good for her. Now that she wasn’t completely terrified by my presence anymore, she was starting to annoy the fuck out of me.
“Is it because of Adamo?”
“What?”
“Your sour mood.”
I smiled darkly. “You haven’t seen me in a sour mood yet, and if I can help it, you won’t.”
She pursed her lips. “He’s conflicted. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, but he also doesn’t want to kill and torture in your name.”
I didn’t say anything, only returned her gaze until she looked away. She had more trouble holding my eyes than Serafina did.
“He’s killed before.”
“And he feels guilty for it.”
I braced myself on my thighs. “Nobody forced his hand back then. He could have hidden like all the other spectators of the fight. He could have run. He could have shot the asshole’s leg or arm, but Adamo shot him in the head. Maybe Adamo doesn’t want to be a killer, but he is. It’s in our nature, Kiara. He can fight it as long as he wants, but eventually the darkness seeps through. It’s what it is.”
“Maybe,” she agreed.
“Fabiano was a good boy once. Goldilocks with remorse and a squeaky clean white shirt, but now he’s my Enforcer.”