Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Aldo Ricci
Right hand to Roman Costas.
Enforcer. Loyal.
Alone.
Happy to stay that way.
Until she walks into his life.
Violet Nelson
Unexpected. Alluring. Off-limits.
But he can’t stay away.
The last thing he expected from her was the one thing he’d never sought.
Redemption.
A thrilling romance duet from New York Times Bestselling author Melanie Moreland
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
ALDO
Isat down at the desk in the office I shared with Roman Costas—my boss. It was one of many offices in the large building that housed a first-class hotel and casino in Niagara Falls. We called this one the war room. The glass wall on the one end gave us an overview of the casino below. We used it a lot. We strategized. Budgeted. Discussed.
I mostly used another office close to the casino, Roman only joining me there on occasion. I conducted interviews, met with employees, and worked there when I needed some space. Roman had his own personal office on the top floor of the hotel. It was accessed by a private elevator and was attached to a suite he spent many nights in. There was a connected suite used exclusively by his nonna. No one and nothing were allowed on that part of the floor unless given permission by Roman himself. Very few of us had access.
Then there was the “office” in the basement. It was one you didn’t want to be invited to. Chances were, if you were, you wouldn’t walk out. Or if you did, you had learned a very valuable and painful lesson.
Never to cross Roman Costas.
I poured a cup of coffee, inhaling the aroma of the rich liquid. I let my mind wander, thinking of the first time I had met Roman. We’d both been eight. My mother had gone to work for the Costas family. Roman’s mother was a pretty lady and a kind employer. My father worked for their father as a driver. I only ever spied Mr. Costas on occasion, and when I did, I stayed out of the way. We lived in a small house on the other side of their large estate north of Toronto. Roman and I became good friends, bonding over trucks. His brother Luca joined us often, the three of us playing together. Life was normal. As normal as I knew it.
And then, three years later, Mrs. Costas died. Everything changed. Their already distant father became more withdrawn and cold.
Playing was not allowed for the brothers. Or laughter. Martial arts, shooting lessons, intense study took center stage. A sense of darkness hovered over the house. As the boys grew older, Mr. Costas pitted the brothers against each other, rewarding the victor, punishing the loser. He “taught” them lessons no kids should learn. They witnessed violence continuously. Roman loathed it. Luca despised it. Both endured.
Nonna came to live with them not long after their mother died. She was the one thing in their life that prevented them from becoming like their father. She kept them together, constantly reminding them of their bond as brothers. As family. Without her, I was certain the brothers would have become replicas of their father. But she kept the spirit of their gentler mother alive within them. When Mr. Costas was away, which was often, the house was different, the boys freer. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway, the silence would descend. They hid huge pieces of themselves away from him, knowing he would destroy those parts. Nonna fed those and kept the light alive, all while seemingly bowing to Mr. Costas’s demands.
As the years went by, Roman and I remained tight. I was allowed to be around because of my father, but I wasn’t considered one of them. At least, not to their father. To Roman and, even to some extent, Luca, I was a brother and treated as such. Nonna V accepted me and loved me as one of her own. When my own mother died of cancer when I was thirteen, she became the soft spot for me I was missing. When I was eighteen, my father had a heart attack—Roman, Luca, and Nonna V became my only family.
And thanks to the unexpected growth spurt I had when I was sixteen, I became Roman’s right hand and undeclared security. At six foot five, I wasn’t messed with. Thanks to my love of using exercise to work out my frustrations, I was broad, strong, and, according to Roman, serious.
I liked to tell him my intensity came from copying him. It was rare to see a smile on his face, unless we were in private. For a few years, I never saw one.
Once his father died, that changed.
Everything changed.
The door opening made me look up. Roman strode in, looking tired and sporting a bruise to his cheekbone. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at his desk with a long sigh.
“Fuck me, is today over?” he muttered.
I chuckled, glancing at my watch. “It’s nine a.m., Roman.”
“Great.”
“You been going a few rounds with your trainer?” I indicated the bruise on his face.
“Luca.”
I was surprised. The brothers rarely fought.
He leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes. “I deserved it.”