Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her up against my chest. My lips touch the side of her throat where I marked her earlier. Not in a show for her brother, but because she's mine. I'll touch her, kiss her whenever and wherever I damn well please.
She melts against me. And without a single word passing her lips, she confirms exactly what Marcello feared. She belongs to me now.
He eyes her silently for a long moment, perhaps looking for cracks in the facade. But there are none for him to find. Not right now. Callandria Genovese has declared her allegiance, and she's standing her ground.
She's incredible.
"Merda," he growls after a moment, shaking his head. "A Valentino, Callie?"
"They aren't my enemy, Marcello," she says, her soft voice clear. "They don't have to be yours either."
"They killed Grandfather."
"I know," Callandria whispers.
"You know." Marcello shakes his head. "And still you stand here in his arms?"
"Would you rather me live in misery with Andrea Maceo like an obedient little princess, Marcello?" she snaps. "That's the future that waits for me at home. I'm nothing more than chattel to be sold to the men in our family, and you know it."
"That's not true."
"No? When did you ever step out of line to stop what they were doing, Marcello? You knew long before I did what my future held, but you said nothing." She laughs abruptly. "You told me that's the way it had to be."
Marcello flinches, guilt flickering through his expression. "What would you have had me do, Callie? Kill our grandfather and father?"
"Of course not," she says. "But don't stand here now and act as though I betrayed our family when I was never more than a pawn and a paycheck to the Genovese family."
"And Mom? Grandma? What am I supposed to tell them?" Marcello asks.
You tell them that I'm safe," she says, her voice trembling. "And you tell them that I'm exactly where I need to be."
Need. Not want, but need. Dio. She still isn't sure this is what she wants, that I'm who she wants. Physically, she's ready. But mentally and emotionally, she's still at war with herself.
That's not acceptable to me. Until every piece of her belongs to me, I won't take her to my bed. It's the only choice I have left to offer her.
"And you tell our father that I'm living life on my own terms from now on," she says. "I decide what happens to me and what alliances I form for the family. I'm not property to be sold to the highest bidder. If there's an heir, it will be because I chose it. My child will be a Valentino."
"Cazzo," Marcello hisses, shocked.
"Go home, Marcello," Callandria says. "And talk our father out of whatever desperate plot he's trying to form before he gets us all killed. Let Grandfather's God-forsaken war die with him."
Chapter Seven
Callandria
I pace around Luca's bedroom, restless and out of sorts. I didn't expect Marcello to show up tonight, though perhaps I should have. My father may be willing to play by the rules, but Marcello isn't so easily convinced. He's my older brother, my best friend. We've always been close.
And yet nothing I said tonight was untrue. He knew long before I did that I was expected to marry Andrea Maceo. He never said anything to me about it. He let me grow up believing I had a future outside of this world. I understand why he did it, but that doesn't change the fact that the one person I trusted the most has always and will always put the family above me.
Isn't that the way it always goes for Made men? La Cosa Nostra above all things. And yet this had nothing to do with mafioso business, not really. He spoke no vow that held his tongue when it came to confessing the truth about my future. But he held his tongue anyway. He treated me as less than, just like Tommaso Genovese did. Just like my father did.
The stark contrast between my own family and Luca Valentino has never been more apparent than it is right now. Luca may not tell me everything, but he's been honest with me. Even when he knows the truth is brutal and ugly, he gives it to me. He doesn't keep me in the dark, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Thank you," I blurt, whirling to face him.
"For what, bella?" he asks, eyeing me from the bed where he's lounging. He's fully dressed, though he kicked his shoes off. His hands rest over his stomach, his feet crossed. He looks perfectly at ease, and yet his eyes are a million miles away.
"For letting me see Marcello."
"You don't owe me thanks." His eyes clear as he focuses on me. "You're upset."
"No," I lie.
"Liar."
"He annoyed me," I mutter with a defensive shrug.