Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
His kiss was harsh, angry and desperate at once.
I answered his kiss even if I wasn’t aroused. This wasn’t about lust. He tore at my jeans until they pooled at my feet with my panties, and I stumbled out of them.
He pushed me down on the bed and climbed on top of me, parting my legs. Two of his fingers slid into me, testing my readiness. His zipper hissed and then he filled me in a hard thrust. I arched up in discomfort. Dante blinked down at me, and his guilt blazed up in the dark fog of his anger. I crossed my legs over his lower back and pulled him down on me, raking my fingers over his back. I wanted to show him that this was okay.
His lips pressed down on mine again and he began to thrust into me, hard and fast, his moves fueled by his anguish, which seemed to cloak us both.
The pain was good, it was welcome.
This wasn’t the lustful pain I’d come to enjoy. This was pain, pure and simple, a drop of physical discomfort and an ocean of emotional hurt. My body fought against both but I surrendered until the tears I’d held back all day finally burst forth.
Dante stilled on top of me. He hadn’t come. I doubted he’d felt any pleasure. His face sank down against my throat and he shuddered as he began to soften inside of me. He didn’t cry, never had in all the time I’d known him. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to lead us out of this, Dante. I trust in you and no matter what you decide, I’ll be at your side. I’ll always be there.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose as I listened to Danilo’s recount of today’s search efforts. We’d spent the night in the safehouse and would stay here for a couple of days—until we found Serafina or until we decided it made more sense to return to either Minneapolis or Chicago.
“I think we have to take into consideration that Serafina is already in Las Vegas or another city in Camorra territory. I doubt they’ll keep her close to our borders though.”
“Let’s obliterate their Kansas properties. Kill the fucking Underboss there and every of his Captains,” Danilo said fiercely. He was young. He was driven by wounded pride and the utter need to protect what was his. I understood him too well, but a brutal attack on one of Remo’s Underbosses would be too risky with Serafina in his hands.
“It’s too risky. Once we have Serafina back, we’ll have our revenge.”
Danilo straightened and began pacing the room.
Samuel sagged in his chair, looking exhausted and desperate but I could see the same hunger for attack in his eyes as I saw in Danilo’s. They weren’t that different.
Pietro was more restrained. His worry for his daughter wasn’t any less acute than theirs, but he knew how dangerous Remo was and that he wouldn’t give us Serafina back because we began killing his Underbosses. He’d send her to us, piece by piece.
Val appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. The children and the women had spent the day in the garden, waiting and worrying. “We can eat.”
Pietro and I got up. Samuel didn’t move and Danilo only shook his head and glared out of the window. “We have to do something.”
“Danilo,” I said imploringly. “If we attack driven by anger and fear, Remo will not only kill Serafina, but also many of our men.”
“I don’t care how many men die.”
“But you care about Serafina’s wellbeing.”
Danilo gave a tight nod then lowered his head and took a deep breath.
“Let’s eat and then try to discuss options. We need a pause.”
“I’m not hungry,” Samuel muttered.
Pietro touched his son’s shoulder. “You need to eat so you can heal. We need you strong.”
That convinced Samuel and he finally pushed to his feet, wincing and his hand clamping over his side.
The table in the big kitchen was set for our family. Ines looked up when we stepped in and the sorrow in her eyes lay itself on my shoulders like an additional weight.
I didn’t get the chance to sit down because my phone rang. I took it out, glancing at the unknown number and suddenly a foreboding feeling took hold of me. I raised the phone to my ear. “Cavallaro.”
“Dante, good to hear your voice.”
I had never heard Remo Falcone’s voice and yet I knew it was him. Every word dripped with confidence, arrogance, and mocking triumph. I could feel heat rise into my face as anger burst through me. My fingers around the phone tightened and I struggled to keep my strong emotional reaction from showing. It would only excite Remo and worry my family.
I crossed the room and left but of course steps followed me.