She removed her fingers from my wrist. Nino wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “It’s not the same,” she whispered.
“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.
I waited for Adamo in the cage, but he took his sweet ass time getting ready. When he finally shuffled toward me, I really wished he were someone else because I wanted to viciously destroy my opponent. Adamo climbed in and closed the door before he faced me.
He had grown these last few months. He was still much scrawnier than Nino and me, and even Savio, but he was filling out nicely despite his reluctance to fight. His arms hung limply at his side as he watched me with apprehension.
“Come on, kiddo. Show me what you got.”
“Don’t call me kiddo,” he grumbled.
I smiled challengingly. “Make me. So far nothing I’ve seen has hinted at you being more than a sulking kid.”
He curled his hands to fists, eyes narrowing.
Better.
“At least I don’t enjoy hurting girls.”
So that was what had his panties in a bunch. “You don’t enjoy doing anything else with them either,” I taunted, trying to finally get him to act on his anger. I couldn’t give any less fucks if Adamo was a virgin or not. I didn’t understand it one bit, but he could fuck whomever, whenever, however he wanted.
“I like girls.”
“Not their pussies, obviously.”
He flushed bright red. We still had a lot of work to do.
“Have you kissed a girl at least?” I took a step closer to him.
He looked away and my smile widened. “Who was it? A girl from school? Or a whore after all?”
His eyes flashed with anger, and he charged at me. His kick was surprisingly well placed, but I blocked it with both of my forearms then punched Adamo’s side hard—not nearly as hard as I wanted, though. He gasped but still sent several punches my way.
We found a good rhythm, and I could see Adamo getting into it, as if this was one of his annoying video games. I had to admit I enjoyed the sparring. It wasn’t more than that, though, because if I had really fought Adamo, the kid would have been on the ground. Eventually, we leaned against the cage, sipping water and dripping sweat.
“I didn’t think you’d hold back. I thought you wanted to kick my ass because I’m a fucking disappointment in your eyes.”
I lowered the bottle. “What makes you think I held back?”
He snorted. “You are the strongest fighter I know. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
“Not yet. Maybe one day. And you aren’t a disappointment.”
He shook his head. “I’ll never be like you and Nino or even Savio.”
“I don’t want you to be like any of us. I only want you to be a Falcone and be proud of it.”
Adamo stared at me with a frown then looked down at his bottle. “Can we do another round?”
“Sure,” I said, even if I was eager to return to Serafina.
“Don’t hold back as much this time,” Adamo said.
My lips pulled wide, and I set the bottle down. I should have fought with Adamo before.
SERAFINA
I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, worrying about my family, especially Samuel. He was so protective of me, what if he did something stupid like attack and get himself killed? I wanted to be saved but if something happened to Sam, I wouldn’t survive. I’d rather suffer pain and endure Remo’s presence than see my brother get hurt.
A heavy weight settled in my stomach when I remembered the look in his eyes when Remo had put the knife against my skin. That look had hurt so much more than the shallow cut. But the cut had given me an important piece of information about Remo. He had a weakness, and it had something to do with those scars and his brothers.
Steps sounded in front of my door and someone knocked. I sat up, surprised. Nobody had bothered to knock.
The lock sounded and the door swung open as I stood, and a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a red summer dress, stepped in. She was shorter than me, and must be the source of the clothes Remo had brought me to wear; it explained why the maxi dress I was wearing ended mid-calf.
I had never met her, but I knew who she was. Not a single person in our world didn’t know her.
“Kiara Vitiello,” I said. The poor Famiglia woman who was thrown to the Falcone wolves to be devoured. Everyone had heard of that union . It had been the gossip of the year among Outfit women. I had only felt pity for the girl, but she didn’t appear as if she needed or wanted it.
“Kiara Falcone now, but yes, that’s me.” She looked over her shoulder with a small frown, and I followed her gaze, finding Nino Falcone standing behind her.
“You don’t have to stay. Serafina and I are going to talk. She poses no danger to me.”