Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Mario was practically my co-designer.
“I mean before that. I knew you were kinky when we were in sixth grade and you trapped Tanya Monteiro in the broom closet.”
I shrug. “Everyone trapped Tanya in the broom closet.”
“Dude. You were the only one who tied her up.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve got a cannoli mustache.”
Mario snakes his tongue out to lap up the pastry cream from his lip and grins at me.
He’s right, though. While the rest of them were trying to get to second base with the girls in high school, I was fucking my math teacher up against her chalkboard. I liked knowing when she sashayed past me in class her gorgeous ass was marked with my handprint and her neck with my teeth.
I like to fucking own a woman I touch before I let her go.
I can’t control what life throws at me. God knows I can’t control who lives or dies. I’ve seen the life of someone young and vibrant and full of promise snuffed out long before its time, and I’ve seen men who didn’t deserve another day on earth live longer than they ever deserved.
So the things I can control are mine, held tightly in my grip, and I’ll fight to the death before I let them go.
I take the cannoli from Mario and take a big bite. “God, you Rossis make the best damn cannoli.” Crispy outer shell, creamy, mildly sweet filling. “Listen, this place isn’t just for my own kinky pursuits.”
Flo comes around and winds her arm around my neck.
“Tell us, baby. What’s it for, then?”
Pride swells my chest.
There’s a reason I chose Boston. I love my home. “Because Boston’s the home of rebels,” I say with conviction. “Because we started a fucking nation. We pioneered the end of slavery. We kicked Puritan ass yet here we are in 2023 , and we have no kink clubs. Why? It’s about time people have a place where they can explore their fantasies.”
“Jesus. Are you really trying to make this out to be some kind of moral thing?” Timeo says, his eyes wide as he shakes his head. “Only Sergio could make opening a brand-new kink club sound like an act of defiance and altruism.”
He dodges my fist with a laugh and ducks behind the bar where I can’t reach him. For now.
“Didn’t even fuckin’ know he knew what altruism was,” Romeo says.
“He doesn’t,” I mutter, as the rest wander off to explore the club and I’m left with Romeo. “Probably today’s Wordle.”
I’m scrolling through emails on my phone when I finally realize Romeo’s gone quiet. I give him a curious look. I get the distinct feeling he has something to say and isn’t sure how to bring it up.
“Spill, Rome. You got something you need to talk to me about?”
“How do you do that?” He shakes his head. “You can read people like Marialena reads palms.”
I shrug. “It’s not as hard as it seems. Let’s hear it.”
Romeo holds my gaze for a minute before he cuts directly to the chase. “You need a wife.”
“Wow. Maybe you should start with something a little heavier.”
“I’m serious, Sergio.”
I blow out a breath. “I know.”
The slight upturn of his brows is the only indication he’s surprised by my reaction.
“You’re not gonna give me shit for bringing it up again?”
I shake my head. “No. We’ve got enemies rising, and that means we need to strengthen our syndicate. We both know that. We’ve both known that. And it’s been long enough since my family joined yours and I took over as the Montavio family Don.”
My older brother Ricco, in the aftermath of our brother Niccolo’s death, only held the position of Don for a short time before his wife was diagnosed with stage three cancer.
We may be ruthless, we may break the law, we may have our own code of ethics which defies people’s conventional understanding of right and wrong, but the Montavios have one guiding principle that trumps all else: Family first.
I knew Ricco couldn’t dedicated himself totally to his wife and totally to the rest of us at the same time without diluting his attention. I knew it was up to me to step up.
I’ve been head of the family ever since.
The Rossis were the most powerful family in New England when my sister Vivia married Dario, a non-blood relative and recruit of the Rossis. Forging an alliance between our two families makes us the most powerful mob in America… and also makes us prime targets.
But there’s one catch. Our grandfathers agreed, back when they’d come to a mutual decision in Tuscany, that the only way men of our caliber could ascend in rank was to marry and have children. For better or for worse, our families are steeped in tradition. We’ve modified the rules—it doesn’t matter who you marry, it’s the growth of the family that is paramount. My grandfather likened family and children to stronger roots in the family tree.