Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
It explains so much. Carmine’s entire world view is defined by growing up in this place with these capos. If these are his friends, his family, then how can he see anything but filth and dirt and rot, when the very basis of his existence is violence and pain and the constant threat of worse? He wants to make fun of me for having a clean and controlled outlook, but I think he’s so much more damaged than he even realizes. This place chewed him up and broke him and now he’s trying to hold on the best he can.
I chew on my lip, thinking, and say, “Did you bring me back here just to parade me around in front of your capos?”
He smiles and tilts his head back against the headrest, eyes fluttering. “Yes, I did. Does that bother you?”
“Only a little bit.”
“You’re attractive, Brice.”
“Gee, thanks, I don’t feel objectified at all.”
“That’s what this is though, isn’t it? A business arrangement. I’m just as much an object to you and your family as you are to me and mine.” His eyes roll toward me and his lips quirk. “Do you like being an object, filthy girl?”
“Don’t go there.”
“But I love going there with you.”
“I’m serious Carmine. What are we doing here? You just admitted this place is dangerous. How’s it any better than Texas? You could’ve left me back in Dallas.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I needed to get you out of there. The Panagos shot their shot and missed, and that means they’re going to be even more desperate than they were before. They started a war they know they can’t win. You’re going to stay here under my protection for a little while, at least until I’ve handled the Greeks.”
I run my hands down my thighs and try to stay calm. I’m very far away from Sara and Robyn and Cassidy now, which means I’m cut off from my support system and isolated in this house. I understand why Carmine would want to keep me here, but the idea of actually staying feels like too much to handle, especially knowing that half of Carmine’s people hate me and the other half are ambivalent at best.
“What I don’t get is why they attacked at all. I thought Grandpa was going to pay them.”
“I did too,” he says and there’s a harsh current under his tone. “I’m flying back to Dallas to have a conversation with him tomorrow.”
That makes me sit up straight. “Are you serious? You’re going to throw me into the middle of the lion’s den and then just leave me here?”
He runs a hand through his hair and studies me. I marvel at his arm and his chest and force myself to stay focused. Just because he’s pretty doesn’t mean he’s not a bastard right now.
“You’ll be fine in my house. That little meet and greet tonight wasn’t a normal thing. Tomorrow morning, the capos will all return to their turfs and their little kingdoms, and they won’t be bothered thinking about you for a while. Besides, I plan on leaving early and coming home in the evening, so I won’t even be gone for a full day.”
“Great. I’ll just be a prisoner then.”
He slowly stands. I can see the exhaustion all over him, in every line and every muscle, and in the way he shuffles toward the bathroom. “Your grandfather fucked something up, filthy girl, and I plan on finding out what.”
He disappears and the shower turns on. I sit back listening to the water run and I picture it falling down his chest, down the twisted bits of scar tissue, the knots and puckered tears in his flesh. I keep thinking about a little Carmine trying to navigate the complicated and dangerous politics inside of a mafia organization like this one, and one question keeps coming up.
If the world is rot and horror then why does he try so hard to keep me safe?
Why not accept that I’m doomed, accept that the Panagos are going to kill me, and let it happen? If I’m nothing more than a toy to him then why throw himself on top of me and risk his own life for mine?
There’s more to him than darkness. Somewhere inside, he wants more from his life, more than pain and suffering and rage, and a tingle runs down my spine when I think of giving it to him.
Building a life with him. Building a family.
But how’s that possible when so many people want me dead?
Chapter 18
Carmine
I’m left alone in the main reception room at the Rowe Manor back in Dallas. I sit back and try to picture little Brice running around this place, no taller than the backs of the chairs, laughing and playing, swallowed up by the massive size of all the rooms and halls and braided twists and turns of architecture. It’s strange that she’s back in Philadelphia right now lying in my bed—somehow, I imagined that she only existed here, in Texas, like she was too large to fit in a small city like Philly.