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)
“She’s not up for discussion,” I say, my voice cool and final.
Mesina watches me for a beat longer, then chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Careful, Luca. A man like you… caring about something too much can make you weak.”
I step closer, my voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “Or it can make me more dangerous.”
The amusement fades from his face, replaced by calculation. Then, with a slight nod, he steps back. “Your father was a passionate man.”
“We all have our passions,” I say. “Some keep their passions to one woman. Some like to keep a goomar.” I meet his gaze. “It’s better for all if we keep women out of this business.”
He focuses on the middle distance, showing no reaction to my words, then nods. Aemelia’s little secret has come in very useful, a way to put him on the backfoot. “Pleasure, as always, Venturi.”
We turn at the same time, walking back to our cars as our men fall into formation behind us. No more words are exchanged, no pleasantries. The deal is done. The balance is restored.
As I slide into the back seat, the door is closed behind me, and Alexis starts the engine. I stare out the window as the city lights blur past, my fingers tightening into a fist.
Mesina thinks Aemelia is a weakness. He has no idea she’s the reason I’ve never felt stronger.
39
AEMELIA
WHERE IS HOME?
My mother sits across from me in the penthouse, her hands clenched in her lap, her eyes darting between my brother, my aunt, and me. Antonio leans against the wall, arms crossed, his expression cool and a little menacing, but to me, his presence is a steady force, an anchor in the storm that’s my past and present colliding.
My aunt looks worse than before, thin and frail, her skin nearly translucent under the harsh light of the kitchen. The sickness clings to her; an inevitability no one wants to acknowledge. My mother sits beside her, wringing her hands, looking just as exhausted as she did before I was taken captive. But it’s my brother who shatters me.
He’s strung out. Again.
His pupils are blown, his skin slick with sweat, fingers twitching in his lap. His clothes hang off him, stained and wrinkled. Shame burns through me, swiftly followed by rage.
“Are you high?” My voice slices through the silence, jagged with disbelief.
CJ flinches, barely meeting my gaze before looking away, but his erratic blinking is enough to confirm.
“Aemelia—” My mama starts, but I’m already on my feet, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“You promised me,” I hiss, voice shaking. “You swore you’d get clean. I fought for you. I worked my fingers to the bone so you wouldn’t have to—”
“You don’t get it!” he snaps, his hands clenching into fists. “We thought you were going to die!”
His words hit like a slap, but I don’t let them sink in. I refuse to let him use my suffering as an excuse for his self-destruction. It’s been going on for years.
“You can’t help yourself,” I say, my voice raw and broken.
My mother rises, placing a hand on my brother’s shoulder, her eyes pleading. “This is why we need to go back, Aemelia. We need to leave all of this behind. You, me, your brother, we need to go home. Back to Baltimore, away from this life. Before it’s too late.”
Go back? The thought tightens around my throat like a noose, suffocating. Go back to scraping by exhausted, to watching my mother defend my brother while he slowly destroys himself, to return to a life where I exist only to endure, to survive—not to live?
No. I can’t.
But it’s more than that. The thought of leaving them is unbearable, an ache that burrows deep into my chest. Ice spreads through my veins at the idea of never again falling into Antonio’s fathomless gaze, never tasting the food he cooks with quiet devotion, never feeling the steady strength of his arms around me, his touch both a promise and a shield. To walk away from Alexis, from his wicked grins and teasing words, his fierce protectiveness hidden beneath charm, his ability to make me feel weightless when the world bears down on me—it’s unthinkable.
And Luca… to leave Luca would be to rip out my own heart. To never hear his rough, reverent voice telling me I’m his good girl, never feel the searing fire behind his cool control, never watch his composure crack when he looks at me with something dangerously close to love. I cannot break him, not when I know what it’s like to be broken.
I belong here. With them.
No. I won’t go.
I glance at Antonio. He’s watching me, his storm-gray eyes unreadable. My heart stutters in my chest. If he wants me to stay, he has to say it. He has to claim me. If he doesn’t, then maybe my mother is right. Maybe I don’t belong here.