Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured against my lips. “My sweet Evelyn.”
“Does this mean you’ll teach me Italian?” I asked breathlessly, desperate for his reply.
“Anything for you, dolcezza,” he vowed. “I’ll make sure you feel at home in Naples. I’ll show you the kind of life I can provide for you. You will have everything you could ever desire.”
I think I already do. I kept the admission locked deep in my chest, afraid that if I declared the intensity of my feelings for him out loud, he might pull away from me again.
No one had ever cared for me like Massimo did. It wasn’t the fine gowns or diamonds that made me enamored with him; it was the safety I felt in his strong arms. I could lean on him—I could be vulnerable—and he would never betray my trust in him. It was more than I’d ever dared to dream of.
I sighed and melted against him, conveying everything I couldn’t say in an achingly tender kiss.
Chapter 3
Massimo
The man jerked against the ropes that bound him tightly to the metal chair, the only piece of furniture in the dank basement beneath the Camorra bar. Upstairs, Gian and Enzo would be longing for their turn to prove themselves, probably tossing and turning in their makeshift beds in the back room that we’d made our home for the last four years. The brothers were as eager as I was to become camorrista. We’d paid our dues and run errands for the Bernardi clan—everything from selling their product on the street to carrying out minor robberies, usually for booze.
Tonight, it was my time to become a man. Their opportunity would come soon enough.
The captive man was rail thin, with visible track marks on his skinny arms. His dirty clothes hung loose on his scrawny frame, but I couldn’t see his face. Someone had shoved a black hood over his head, and, judging by the muffled sounds coming from beneath it, he was gagged.
Cesare Salerno loomed behind his captive, cold black eyes glinting with amusement at the man’s predicament. His thin lips were stretched into a semblance of a smile, but there was no warmth behind it. In his impeccably tailored suit, he might’ve passed for a suave gentleman, if you didn’t look too closely at his maniacal expression.
We all knew to tread carefully around the notorious sadist and sociopath, who was renowned for making his enemies suffer before they died. He was a powerful man, and one day, he would probably be head of the clan. He was vicious and ruthless, with a cruel streak that made him one of the most feared men in Le Vele.
Salerno’s dark eyes flashed beneath the spare lightbulb that barely illuminated the concrete space, his inhuman gaze cutting straight into my soul. “I have a job for you, Massimo.”
“Anything,” I replied eagerly, ready to carry out any task he demanded of me. This was the first time I’d ever been alone with Salerno—well, alone except for his captive. He’d called me down here, and I’d known that this was my chance to make an impression. To become one of his brothers in blood. I would get out of this shitty bar, out of this shitty neighborhood. Gian and Enzo would get out with me. We’d made a pact, and none of us would leave the others behind.
Salerno fisted the hood and jerked it off his captive’s head. Just as I’d suspected, the man was gagged, a dirty length of cloth drawn tightly between his yellowed teeth. Sweat drenched his sun-weathered brow, and his eyes were wild with panic.
“Do you know this man?” Salerno asked.
I studied his fear-twisted features. “No.”
Salerno gripped the man’s hair, yanking his head back so that I could see his face clearly. “Look at him. Memorize his face. Burn it into your mind.”
I nodded, obeying. I studied the dirty man as though he was an insect I would grind beneath my boot.
“You’re going to kill him.” Salerno’s cold command froze the blood in my veins.
My heart stuttered, but I kept my face impassive. I’d never killed anyone before. I waved a gun around to get people’s attention when I needed to, and occasionally, I drew blood with my knife. But I always avoided killing.
My mother’s empty, caramel eyes flickered through my mind, the memory of her final look of horror tormenting me.
I straightened my shoulders and faced Salerno.
“Why?” I asked, jerking my chin at the bound man. “What did he do?”
A hint of a smirk played around the corners of Salerno’s mouth. He was enjoying this.
“You’ll never know. You’ll kill him because I ordered you to. Won’t you, Massimo?” The last was a snake’s challenging hiss.
My mind churned, and I struggled to force down the macabre images of my parents’ dead bodies. They’d been innocent, and the gang had gunned them down for no reason.