Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
“The only difference is that in your case your family decided who got you, while Serafina’s family had no say in the matter. Neither of you had a real choice.”
She shook her head and peered up at Nino with so much fucking love I knew I could never hurt a single hair on her body. She returned her gaze to mine. “Let me talk to her,” she said, not asking but ordering.
“Is that a fucking order, Kiara?” I asked in a threatening voice. Maybe she needed reminding that I was her Capo.
Nino squeezed her shoulder, but she held my gaze then stepped forward out of his grip and closer to me. “No,” she said softly, looking at me with those big brown eyes as if that would warm my heart. “I am asking you for permission as your sister-in-law and as a Falcone.”
“Fuck,” I snarled and glared at Nino. “Couldn’t you have chosen an airheaded wife? She’s as good at manipulation as you are.”
Nino’s mouth twitched and he looked proud. Fucking proud.
“I’m not sure why I put up with all of you,” I muttered.
“Does that mean I’m allowed to talk to her?” Kiara asked hopefully.
“Yes. But I should warn you ... Serafina isn’t as docile as you are. If I were you, I’d watch my back. She might end up attacking you to save herself.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she said then turned on her heel and headed straight for my wing. Nino followed her because he was obviously concerned for her safety.
I released a harsh breath and kicked the punching bag with so much force the hook ripped out of the ceiling and the bag crashed to the ground.
Savio chuckled as he came up to me. “At first, I really loathed the idea of having Kiara under our roof, but I enjoy her presence more every day.”
“Why don’t you call someone to fix this fucking bag instead of grating on my nerves.”
Savio grinned. “Will do, Capo. I know someone you can release your pent-up energy on. I was supposed to train with Adamo. Why don’t you take over? The kid needs a good ass kicking.”
“Why don’t I just hang you from a hook and use you as a punching bag instead?”
Savio laughed and sauntered off.
Staring at the mess on the floor for another moment, I turned around to Adamo, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring. “Come on, kiddo. Train with me.”
Adamo and I had never trained together unless you counted the mock fights I’d entertained him with when he was a small kid and didn’t hate my guts yet.
For a moment, he looked like he was going to refuse, but then he pushed up to his feet. He trudged after me in that annoying way he’d adopted recently, just to drive me up the walls. I grabbed my keys then tossed them toward Adamo. “Catch.”
He did, frowning.
“You’re going to drive us there.”
“Really?” he asked and for once wasn’t glaring at me.
“Really. Now move. I don’t have all day.”
Adamo hurried past me, not trudging, and I followed after him, shaking my head and smiling. Nothing got that kid as excited as driving cars or rather racing them.
When I arrived in the driveway, he was already behind the wheel of my new neon green Lamborghini Aventador, grinning like the cat that got the fucking cream. The moment my ass hit the passenger seat, he revved the engine and we shot down the driveway.
“There’s a gate at the end. You remember that, right?” I muttered, buckling up.
Adamo hit the button and the gates slid open, and we raced through them with about an inch between the side mirrors and the unrelenting steel.
I shook my head but Adamo didn’t slow down. We weaved through traffic, and honks followed us everywhere. A police car shot out of a side alley and started chasing us with sirens howling and lights flashing.
“Oh man,” Adamo whined, hitting the breaks and pulling over.
The officer got out, hand on his gun, and strolled toward us while his colleague stayed back, his gun at his side. That was the problem with a new car.
Adamo let the window down, and the officer looked at him. “Get out of the car.”
I leaned forward, my forearm with my tattoo propped up against the dashboard and smiled darkly at the man. “Unfortunately, Officer, we have somewhere we need to be.”
The police officer registered my tattoo then my face and took a step back. “This is a misunderstanding. Safe travels.”
I nodded and sank back against the seat. “Drive.”
Adamo looked at me with a hint of admiration in his eyes. Then he pulled away from the curb in a slower pace but still too fast. His mood soured the moment we got out of the car in front of the abandoned casino that served as our gym.