Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Instead of letting him escape, I follow him into the main downstairs room. “You’re obviously not. I know you don’t want to admit it, but whatever’s going on with that guy is really getting to you, and I want to help.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” He stands near the kitchen island, taking deep breaths.
I go to him. He doesn’t pull away when I put a hand on his chest and run another through his hair, gently scratching at the nape of his neck before standing on my toes to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“You can talk to me,” I say very quietly, afraid that I’m stepping over an imaginary line, but I’m done pretending like this relationship with him isn’t turning into something more serious.
I want to take on some of his burden. Maybe I can’t ease his pain, but I can listen when he talks and sympathize when he needs someone to be there for him. He doesn’t have to be the big, stoic, emotionless mafia enforcer anymore; I’m here for him now.
“I know I told you I’d talk about how this happened—” He rubs the back of his burned hand. “But it’s an ugly story, dolcezza. I don’t think you want to hear it. Especially not now that I’m going to see the man that caused it.”
My breath comes faster. “Santoro burned you?”
“In a way.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “I can still smell the fire, you know. It’s a mixture of smoke, scorched hair, and melting flesh. God, it’s a disgusting smell, and even after all this time I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Fire doesn’t bother me, but the smell of it triggers all those old fucking memories.”
I hug him hard and lean my head against his chest. His heart is beating slow and steady, which surprises me. “If it’ll help, I can handle it.”
He grunts and doesn’t sound like he believes me. But he talks anyway.
“I was twelve when Uncle Luciano betrayed my father. I don’t know what his long-term plans were, but the story goes, my father found out that Santoro had been stealing money from the Famiglia and slowly building a stockpile of funds. He was investing in restaurants and building his own little real estate empire, and by the time my father caught him, he’d already amassed some serious power very quietly and behind the scenes.
“But when my father found out, he went ballistic. You have to understand, Uncle Luciano was like blood to us. He and my father came up together, they were best friends since grade school, and to find out that he’d been betrayed by his closest confidant really sent my father into a rage. He sent men after Santoro, some of his best killers, and I think that caused Uncle Luciano to panic. That’s when he decided to take me.”
I stare at Davide, trying to picture the story. This man was in their family, in their lives, like an actual blood relative, and he decided to betray them for money. It’s hard to imagine someone could be so cruel.
“What do you mean, take you?” I prompt, gently prodding him and stroking his chest with my fingers.
“I don’t think it was part of his original plan, but the day after he got caught, Uncle Luciano showed up at my school. I figured Dad had sent him to pick me up, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, and I got into the car with him. But instead of driving me home, he took me to a house on the edge of town.” He closes his eyes and his whole body goes tense. His voice loses its emotional tenor, and he starts talking in a strange monotone. “There was a cage in the basement like something you’d put a very large dog in. Uncle Luciano locked me in there and kept saying he was sorry it had to be like that. He kept saying it, over and over again, how sorry he was, and how he never wanted any of this to happen. I cried and begged him to let me out, but—”
He takes a steadying breath. I watch him as cold horror creeps into my body, trying to picture how he must have felt, getting locked in a cage by a man he looked up to and who he had loved.
“He fed me twice a day, but I was in that cage for almost a week. I found out later that Father was scouring the city for me, killing indiscriminately, basically causing mayhem as he tore the place apart, but Santoro wouldn’t come out of hiding. At least until Father got a tip from a former associate that spotted Santoro leaving the house where he was keeping me, and that’s when Father and his men burned the place down.”