“Will you bring Serafina down, then?”
“No,” I said tersely.
“Why not?” Kiara asked, and I stalked toward her. She didn’t back off as I stopped right in front of her.
“Because I don’t fucking trust myself around her today, okay?”
Kiara nodded, a deep worry line forming between her brows. “Okay.”
“I can bring her food up later,” Fabiano suggested.
I slanted him a hard look. “Yeah, why not?” My voice rang with warning.
He held my gaze for a long time until he grabbed his phone from the pocket of his pants off the ground and brought it to his ear. I put my clothes back on, not giving a shit that I was sweaty. Kiara trailed after me as I sank down on the sofa. She didn’t know what was good for her. Now that she wasn’t completely terrified by my presence anymore, she was starting to annoy the fuck out of me.
“Is it because of Adamo?”
“What?”
“Your sour mood.”
I smiled darkly. “You haven’t seen me in a sour mood yet, and if I can help it, you won’t.”
She pursed her lips. “He’s conflicted. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, but he also doesn’t want to kill and torture in your name.”
I didn’t say anything, only returned her gaze until she looked away. She had more trouble holding my eyes than Serafina did.
“He’s killed before.”
“And he feels guilty for it.”
I braced myself on my thighs. “Nobody forced his hand back then. He could have hidden like all the other spectators of the fight. He could have run. He could have shot the asshole’s leg or arm, but Adamo shot him in the head. Maybe Adamo doesn’t want to be a killer, but he is. It’s in our nature, Kiara. He can fight it as long as he wants, but eventually the darkness seeps through. It’s what it is.”
“Maybe,” she agreed.
“Fabiano was a good boy once. Goldilocks with remorse and a squeaky clean white shirt, but now he’s my Enforcer.”
Fabiano snorted. “I was never good and definitely not goldilocks.”
“I should get dinner ready. Can you help me with the mustard jar in the kitchen? I can’t open it,” Kiara said.
I nodded toward Fabiano. “He can help you.”
Kiara shifted nervously, her eyes sliding to Fabiano then back to me. My eyebrows shot up. I got to my feet.
Fabiano gave a small shrug. “Leona will be here in five minutes.”
I followed Kiara into the kitchen and took the mustard jar she held out to me. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day that someone was less scared of me than of Fabiano or anyone else for that matter.”
Kiara flushed. “I know I’m safe with you,” she said quietly.
Fuck, she was. I held out the open jar. “Here.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re safe around Fabiano as well,” I told her.
“I know,” she said. “But it takes a bit longer for the message to get through to my brain.”
“You should be wary of a brain that makes you love my brother and trust me, Kiara,” I muttered.
She laughed. “It’s not my brain, it’s my heart.”
I narrowed my eyes then turned on my heel and walked out, not in the mood for emotional nonsense.
CHAPTER 9
SERAFINA
I wasn’t sure if it was Remo’s plan to break me by letting me stew with my own thoughts all day. I had nothing to do except relive this afternoon’s kiss, torn between guilt and a flicker of terrifying excitement, because that kiss had been unlike anything I’d ever felt before. And every time that realization hit me, my guilt doubled. I knew I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it—not only because Danilo was the man I was supposed to be kissing, but also because Remo was the last man I was allowed to kiss.
Whenever Samuel had returned from a night out with friends while I was stuck at home, I’d be overwhelmed by a wave of longing and jealousy. I wanted to be free to party with him, but that would have been my ruin—even if Samuel had been at my side to protect my honor. I couldn’t be seen in a club, dancing the night away. We’d had a few secret house parties, which had been exhilarating even if Samuel had been glued to my side every second so none of his friends got near me. Not that any of them would have dared. They were all Made Men or on their way to becoming one. My father was Underboss. My uncle was the boss of the Outfit. My fiancé as good as the underboss of Indianapolis and my brother a Made Man. No guy ever looked at me twice, at least not the guys allowed near me. I could have been naked and thrown myself at these guys and they wouldn’t have batted an eye ... from fear of losing it—and their life.
And I had been okay with it, had accepted it because we were bound by the rules of our world. It wasn’t as if I wanted to sleep around like Samuel, even if the few stories he’d shared with me in the beginning when he was overexcited about losing his virginity had made me curious.
The lock clicked and I quickly sat up, bracing myself. I wouldn’t allow Remo to catch me by surprise again.
My eyes widened when Fabiano stepped inside, carrying a plate. I stood. Why was he here? Would he help me after all?
Fabiano regarded my face then shook his head as if he could read my mind. “I’m bringing you dinner.”
He came in but left the door ajar, and I wondered why he did it. I doubted it was so I could run. Was he worried of being alone in a room with me?
“Here,” he held out the plate with steaming mac and cheese to me.
I glared. “Do you remember how you, Samuel and I played together? Do you remember how you and him pretended to be my protectors? Do you remember that?” For a moment we did nothing but stare at each other, but he didn’t allow me to glimpse behind his emotionless mask.
With a sigh, he walked past me and put the plate down on my nightstand.
“You should eat,” he said firmly.
I whirled around to face him. “Why? So I stay healthy just so Remo can break me?”
Fabiano glanced down at my arm and grabbed it, inspecting the wound closely. “That’s Remo’s doing?”
“Who else enjoys slicing up people?”
Fabiano’s mouth switched into a wry smile. “Pretty much every man in the mob, Fina.”
He touched the wound lightly. “It’s not deep.”
“I’m sorry that my wound doesn’t fulfill your high standards. Next time maybe you should cut me.”
Fabiano shook his head. “Remo cuts deep. Hits hard. Kills brutally. He doesn’t do half-assed cuts like this.”
I tugged my arm free. “So what? Maybe he wants to save the bloody fun for later.”
Fabiano’s blue eyes searched my face with a small frown. “Maybe.”
For some reason, his scrutiny annoyed me. “When people said you were a traitor who ran off with his tail between his legs, I didn’t want to believe them, but now I see they were right.”
Fabiano leaned down, and the look was one I hadn’t seen on his face before, one that reminded me that he was now Enforcer. “I didn’t run. I’m loyal.”
I huffed.
He took a step closer, and I backed off. “I am. My fucking father sent one of his men out to kill me. That man couldn’t go through with it and dropped me off in Bratva territory so they could finish the job for him. Without Remo, they would have succeeded. I’m alive because of my Capo, because of those four Falcone brothers who stood together when the world was against them and against me.”
I blinked, utterly shocked by his words. “Your father tried to kill you? Why didn’t you tell Dante?”
He glared. “I’m not a fucking snitch. And the Cavallaros have stuck with my bastard of a father for too long. I don’t give a fuck if your grandpa thinks highly of him. My father is a disgrace.”
“My grandfather is very sick. He probably won’t live much longer.”
“Good,” Fabiano said fiercely.
I swallowed. “Even if my grandfather doesn’t hold a protective hand over your father anymore, Dante won’t give him to the Camorra. He’ll deal with him.”
Fabiano smiled sadly. “Dante will hand my father over. Trust me.” He took a step back. “I only wished you weren’t the one who’s going to make it happen.”
I touched Fabiano’s arm. “I know you can’t help me escape, but at least let me talk to Samuel, Fabi. I miss him so terribly.”
“That’s not his decision,” Remo said in a low voice as he stalked into the room. Fabiano gave a terse nod, exchanging a look with his Capo that I couldn’t read. Then he walked out without another look at me.
“Trying to talk my Enforcer into betraying me?”
“Unfortunately, everyone I’ve met so far is loyal to you.” It was true and they couldn’t even blame it on fear. Despite his reputation, the people close to Remo seemed to tolerate him, maybe even liked him. Remo left the door open as well, and he kept a few arm lengths between us. Something about him was off, and it set my alarm bells off.
“Let me talk to my brother,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to say please.
Remo tilted his head, his expression assessing. “What about Danilo? Don’t you want a chat with your fiancé? After all, he’d be your husband by now if it weren’t for me.”