Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Do you need some water? Something to eat?” Luca’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts
“Water would be good,” I admit, surprised at his consideration. I guess strict mafia bosses can also be thoughtful.
He shifts, gently lowering me onto the bed before tucking himself away. When he leaves the room, I take a moment to rub my hands over my face, breathing deeply. This is real. This is happening.
Am I really going to do this? Be with all of them?
I glance down at my bare legs, my unpainted toenails, and the delicate nightgown clinging to my skin. Why would they want me, just me, when they could have any woman they desired—women who wouldn’t need to be shared?
Antonio took my virginity. That was his prize. But since then, I’ve surrendered to Alexis, and Luca has claimed my mouth. Any sentiment attached to my first time should be long gone.
Why aren’t they married? Why don’t they have wives, children, a traditional Sicilian life?
Luca returns, carrying a tall glass of water and a plate. He passes me the glass first, waiting for me to drink, then passes me the plate. Three small Amaretti cookies rest together, delicate and golden.
“You should eat something. Keep your strength up.”
The unspoken reason lingers between us. My body is small and weak compared to theirs. I’m one, and they’re three. I’m inexperienced, and they have years of sexual history. Three small almond cookies won’t be enough to prepare me for when Alexis and Antonio return, but I eat them anyway, not wanting to disappoint Luca or reject his kindness.
He settles into the chair, watching me as I take slow bites.
“How’s Rosita,” I ask between mouthfuls. “Where did she go on honeymoon?”
“She’s fine. The Maldives.”
I frown, trying to recall the world map from my geography lessons. “I don’t know where that is.”
“Islands in the Indian Ocean.”
I nod. “Her husband—do you like him?”
Luca arches a dark eyebrow and raises the corner of his mouth into an even darker smile. “Do you think she would have married him if I didn’t like him?”
Of course. He’s not only a big brother but a mob boss. No man would dare to claim his sister without his approval.
“What’s he like?”
“Raphael? He’s clever. A lawyer. Strong, from a good family.”
Good. A relative term. Does he mean pure-hearted, reputable, or simply an ally in their world?
“They seem very much in love.”
He huffs like love is a myth, a fairytale, something only young girls believe can be real. “Rosita is a romantic. Always has been. She used to make me pretend to be her knight in shining armor. I had to keep reminding her I was her brother.”
I smile at the memory. I remember that game. She tried to make me pick between her brothers, but even then, I didn’t want to choose.
“So, maybe you’ll be an uncle soon.”
Luca’s expression twists for a second but then softens. “It’s hard to imagine her as a married woman. She’s my little sister, you know. And now she’s a Russo and belongs to another man.”
I tilt my head. “Women don’t belong to men, Luca. We choose to walk next to them, to lie by their sides, to give birth to their children, to tend to their homes, and to suffer when they suffer. If we’re lucky, they’re worthy of that devotion.”
His blue eyes sharpen as I dust the crumbs from my fingers over the plate. The weight of his attention is suffocating in its intensity but welcome still. I remind myself to breathe.
“You don’t want to belong to someone, kitten?”
I hesitate, playing with the hem of my nightgown. “I want to belong somewhere,” I admit. “I want to know I have a safe place in the world.”
Luca’s gaze softens, something unreadable flickering in the depths of his eyes. “We can give you that.”
I glance up at him, finding his expression as serious as ever, his hands upturned where they rest on his thighs, open like he’s ready to accept whatever I have to give. “If you choose to walk with us.”
My heart clenches. Those words—my words—echo back at me, wrapping around my ribcage like a promise I never knew I needed to hear.
His smile is quick and devastating, a flash of lightning in a midnight sky. He takes the plate from my hands, setting it aside, then effortlessly lifts me, gathering me in his arms and snuggling me against his body where I feel safest. Where I belong.
“We’ll show you what it takes to be ours, princess,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “And then, if you still want to choose to lie by our sides, we’ll make it so.”
34
ANTONIO
CLAIMED BY HER FATHER’S ENEMIES
For fifteen minutes, I coordinated our response to Enzo’s hit attempt with Alexis, my mind split between strategy and the suffocating need clawing inside me. The rage burning through my veins is a twisted, all-consuming thing—hot and sharp, fueling my hunger for revenge. Enzo’s betrayal of Aemelia is unforgivable. A man who would order a hit on his own flesh and blood is less than dirt. He doesn’t deserve to take his next breath, and by sunrise, he won't.