KIARA
Despite the warmer temperatures that March brought, I was glad for my thick wool sweater. I’d never grown used to the colder climate of Baltimore. The weather in Atlanta had been so much warmer. My fingers were stiff as I settled them on the piano keys and began to play. Melancholic low notes of music filled the room, a reflection of my current emotions. I had started fiddling with the composition a couple of days ago, but it was still far from good.
When my aunt stepped into the living room, perfectly styled—as always—in a beige cashmere dress, her dark hair piled on top of her head, I lifted my hands off the keys and the sound died off in a soft exhale.
Uncle Felix entered behind her. He was a tall man, heavy around the middle, with a mustache that twitched when he talked. They exchanged a look and something heavy settled in my stomach.
“We need to have a word with you,” Felix said.
I got up from the bench and followed them toward the seating area. They sat on the couch, and I took the armchair across from them. It felt like I was facing a tribunal.
“It hasn’t been easy on us, taking you in,” Felix began, and I curled my fingers into the leather of the armchair. It wasn’t the first time I heard it, but it still stung. “But we did what we could. We gave you what we could to raise you.”
They had given me shelter and education, but affection or even protection from the harsh whispers of society … No. Never that. I was grateful anyway. I knew how important outward appearances were, and they had risked their reputation by taking in a traitor’s daughter.
“But you are a grown woman now and it’s time for you to have your own home, to be a wife and mother.”
My insides tightened, but I kept my face blank. Over the years I’d learned to hide my emotions. “You found a husband for me?”
Who would have agreed to marry me? Perhaps they had settled on a soldier after all. It was for the best. If I married down, the wedding and marriage would be a low-key affair, no attention, little potential for scandal. A soldier might see me as a way to improve his position, because despite being a traitor’s daughter, I was the Capo’s cousin. Maybe that would make him overlook my defect.
Aunt Egidia smiled but her eyes showed guilt, perhaps even shame. Felix cleared his throat. “I know you aren’t aware of the details of my business, but the Famiglia is at war.”
As if anyone didn’t know that. Even small children were brought up with the knowledge that we had to be vigilant because the Outfit might attack, or heaven forbid, the Camorra.
“I know, Uncle Felix,” I said quietly.
“But Luca was approached with an offer of peace. You don’t need to bother with the details, but it might be the final step to destroy the Outfit.”
My breath stuck in my throat. What was he talking about? If the offer didn’t come from the Outfit, who else was willing to agree on a truce?
“It’s an honor, Kiara. After what your father did, we thought we would have to give you to a soldier or never find a husband at all.”
“Who is it I am going to marry?” I forced the words out, but they sounded strangled.
“You will marry up,” Aunt Egidia assured me with a tense smile, but her eyes … her eyes still held pity, and deep down I knew that whatever horrors my past held, they would soon be accompanied by new horrors.
“Who?” I rasped.
“Nino Falcone, second in command to his brother Remo Falcone, the Capo of the Camorra,” Felix said, avoiding my eyes.
I heard nothing after that, rising without a word and walking out. I went upstairs, continued into my bedroom, and sank down on the chaise longue, staring blankly at my bed. It was neatly made. I didn’t let the maids make it, hadn’t let them make it in years. Every night I took my pillow and blanket and curled up on my chaise longue to sleep, and in the morning I returned everything and made my bed so no one found out that I didn’t use the bed and hadn’t in six years.
Six years. I was only thirteen.
As I stared at my bed, the horrors of the past took shape again like they did every night when I closed my eyes.
—
SIX YEARS AGO
It was dark in my room when footsteps woke me. I turned around and recognized my Uncle Durant under the gleam of moonlight. He had come to Baltimore with his wife, Aunt Criminella, to visit Aunt Egidia and Uncle Felix for a few days.
Confused by his presence, I sat up. His breathing was loud, and he was dressed in a bathrobe. “Shh,” he said as he leaned over me, his body forcing me down.
Fear shot through me. I wasn’t supposed to be alone with men in my bedroom. That was a rule I had learned from an early age. Stiff with terror, I watched as he removed his bathrobe; he was naked beneath. I had never seen a naked man. His hand grabbed my shoulder, and his other hand pressed down on my mouth. I was supposed to show respect to my elders, to men in particular, but I knew this wasn’t right. I began struggling.
He tore at my clothes. He was too strong. He tugged and pinched. His hands hurt between my legs. I cried, but he didn’t stop. He moved on top of me, between my legs.
“This is your punishment for being a dirty traitor.”
I wanted to say I didn’t betray anyone, but pain robbed me of my words. It felt like being torn apart, like breaking and falling and shattering. His breath was hot on my face, and I cried, whimpered, and begged. His hand only clamped down harder around my mouth, and he grunted as he shoved himself into me again and again. I cried harder because it hurt so much.
I hurt all over, my whole body and deep in my chest.
He kept grunting above me. I stopped struggling, breathed through my clogged nose. In and out. In and out. His sweat dripped down on my forehead. He shuddered and slumped down on top of me. His hand slipped off my mouth.
I didn’t scream. I was quiet, motionless.
“Nobody will believe you if you tell them about this, Kiara. And even if they do, they will blame you and nobody will want you anymore. You are dirty now, Kiara, you hear me? Worthless.”
He pulled out and I cried from the sharp pain. He slapped me. “Be quiet.”
I pressed my lips together, watching him get up and put on his bathrobe. “Have you had your period yet?”
I shook my head because I couldn’t speak.
“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have a bastard, right?” He leaned over me again, and I flinched. “I will make sure the maids know you got your period, don’t worry. I won’t let anyone find out that you are a worthless little whore. I will protect you.” He stroked my cheek before he pulled back, and I didn’t move until he was outside. When his steps had faded, I pushed up and managed to stand despite the pain.
Something warm trickled down my legs. I stumbled forward, grabbed my discarded panties, and pressed them between my legs, crying out again. Shaking, I curled up on the chaise longue, staring into the darkness at the bed.
Before sunrise, the door opened again, and I pressed against the backrest, making myself small. One of the maids, Dorma, stepped into my room. She was one of the younger ones who looked at me like I was a bother. Her eyes moved over me. “Get up,” she said sharply. “We need to clean you up before the others wake up.”
I stood, wincing from the soreness between my legs. I looked down at myself. There was blood on my legs and something else that made my stomach pinch sharply. Dorma began gathering the sheets. They, too, were covered in blood. “You better keep this quiet,” she muttered. “Your uncle is an important man and you are only a traitor. You are lucky they didn’t kill you as well.”
I waited quietly as she bunched up the sheets and set them down on the ground. Then she began tugging at my clothes, ignoring my flinching, until I stood naked. I felt dirty, worthless, and broken under her cruel eyes.
She added my nightgown to the bloody heap on the ground then helped me into a bathrobe. “We’ll go to the bathroom now, and if anyone asks, you got your period, right?”
I nodded. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t fight it.
That night, Uncle Durant came into my room again, and again the night after, and again until he finally had to leave for Atlanta. Every morning Dorma cleaned the sheets and me. A few days after he’d left, she wore an expensive necklace. The price for her silence.
—
TODAY
A knock sounded, tearing me out of the painful memories. I took a deep breath and willed my voice to be strong. “Come in.”
Aunt Egidia opened the door, but she didn’t enter. Worry tightened her mouth. “Kiara, that was very rude,” she said. She regarded me then averted her gaze, and again it was filled with a hint of guilt. “You should be honored to be given to someone of importance. With your background, it’s a blessing. Your wedding will be a spectacle. It’ll bring honor to your name.”
“And yours,” I said quietly.
She stiffened, and I instantly regretted my words. I had no right to criticize her or my uncle. “We braved a lot of unpleasantness because we took you in. You can hardly hold it against us that we are happy to have found such a honorable match for you.”
“Has it been decided?” I asked quietly.
She frowned. “As good as. The Falcones insist on Luca’s relative for the marriage, naturally, so Felix suggested you. Luca would like a word with you before he makes the offer, which isn’t how it used to be done, but if he insists on your consent, we can hardly refuse him. We invited him and his wife over for dinner.” Her eyes met mine, finally. “You will tell him you are delighted by the honor, Kiara, won’t you? This is your chance to redeem your family and yourself. Maybe your brothers will even be allowed to become Captains if you marry someone like Nino Falcone.”
My throat closed tightly, and my gaze found the bed again.
“Kiara, you will tell him you agree, won’t you? Your uncle already told Luca you would. It will lead to rumors if you refuse.”
I looked back at my aunt, who looked worried.
“I will agree,” I whispered, because what else was there left to do?
That evening before dinner, Luca pulled me aside to talk to me without my aunt and uncle, which displeased them greatly, made plainly clear by the scowls on their faces.
“I’m not going to force you to marry if you refuse,” he said. His presence made me nervous.
“I’ll be twenty this fall. I need to marry.”
“That’s true,” Luca conceded. His gray eyes regarded me as if he thought he could pull any truth out of me with just his watchful gaze, but I had learned to hold on to my secrets. “But you could marry someone else.”
I could, but if I refused to marry Nino Falcone, I’d be even more of a pariah in our circles. Uncle Felix and Aunt Egidia would be disappointed, and they would have an even harder time finding someone else. And how would I justify my refusal? In our world, you married the man your parents chose for you, no matter how bad the choice. “Who would marry Nino Falcone in my stead?”
“Most of my cousins are promised or married. I’d have to choose one of the daughters of my Captains. A few of them will be turning of age this year and aren’t engaged.”
Another girl given to the monsters in Las Vegas. A girl more innocent than me. A girl who deserved a chance at happiness no matter how small it would be in our world.
Nobody had protected me all those years ago, but I could spare another girl this fate. “I will marry him. You don’t have to choose anyone else.” My voice didn’t betray my terror. It was firm and determined, and I forced myself to meet Luca’s gaze for the first time this evening.
Luca stared at me a moment longer, but I could tell he approved of my decision. Duty and honor were the pillars of our world. Each of us had to do what was expected. It would have made him and the Famiglia look bad if he couldn’t have offered one of his cousins to the Camorra. These were the rules we lived by, and his own wife had been given to him for peace. This was how it was done, how it would always be done.
After dinner, it was Aria who approached me. She smiled kindly and touched my arm while the men drank their scotch in the smoking lounge and Aunt Egidia got espresso ready for us. “Nobody would blame you if you refused,” Aria said.
“You married Luca. You did what was expected, what honor dictated, and I know the same is expected of me,” I said with a smile.
She frowned. “Yes, but—”
“It’s not like this has ever been my home. Even if I wasn’t the one who broke his oath, I’m paying for my father’s mistake. I want to move on from it. This is my chance to redeem myself. Las Vegas can be a new start for me.”
Those were the words expected of me, but they fell heavily from my lips because I knew that my marriage to Nino could destroy everything. My reputation and any chance at peace. And beneath these worries, lay a deeper, darker fear—a fear born in the past that haunted my present and would determine my future.
——
NINO
“This was too risky and you know it, Remo. One day you will get yourself killed,” I said as Remo and I settled at a table in the Sugar Trap. I knew he was starting to grow tired of my lectures, but as long as he acted impulsively, he’d have to listen to them.
Remo threw his feet up on the table, watching the stripper sway her hips, her tits bouncing up and down. The Sugar Trap was deserted, except for the women preparing for the evening.
“When that happens, you are there to rule over the Camorra.”
I frowned. He was taking this too lightly. He was the born Capo. Nobody could scare people into submission as easily and fast as Remo. I didn’t want to become Capo. That was Remo’s birthright, not mine.
“Don’t give me that look, Nino. I know you would have handled things differently.”
“Anyone would have handled things differently.”
“It worked. Luca got his drugs, and he agreed to give this union a chance. And I bet Aria played a part in the matter. She wants her brother back. She is a woman. They want peace and love. They like to meddle.”
“You aren’t an expert where women are concerned. When was the last time you talked more than two sentences to a woman?”
Remo swung his legs off the table and got up then pointed at the stripper. “I want to fuck. Get your ass into the changing room. I’ll be there in two minutes. You better be naked.” The woman nodded and hurried backstage. Remo raised one dark eyebrow. “See? Four sentences.”
I sighed and rose to my feet. “That wasn’t talking, that was commanding. A monologue, at best. For it to be an actual conversation, she has to say something in return.”
Remo grinned. “Why would I want to hear what she has to say? I prefer her mouth filled with my cock.” He pointed at another stripper who entered our club. “Why don’t you take that one? In a few months, you’ll be a married man. No more stripper pussies for you then.” He laughed at his own joke, knowing Made Men could do whatever they wanted, and clapped my shoulder. “Come on, relax a bit before you have to meet with Luca tomorrow.”
He had a point. I met the woman’s gaze and motioned her toward me. I’d fucked her before. “C.J.,” I said, and her eyes widened. They were always surprised that I remembered their names, but I never forgot a name or anything else.
“Yes, Mr. Falcone?” She licked her lips because she thought it was what turned me on. I found it more distracting than anything else. If I didn’t already intend on fucking her, I wouldn’t have called her over. There was no sense in trying to turn me on further. Remo had already headed backstage. I grabbed her wrist, led her to the restrooms, and fucked her up against the stall. She moaned, but I knew it was fake. She was wet around my cock, but she definitely hadn’t come. Her body didn’t exhibit the telltale signs of orgasm. As a whore, she was used to faking it to make her customers happy, but I fucking hated it. I gripped her harder, narrowing my eyes, and fucked her faster. “You know what happens to people who lie to me?”
Fear flashed across her face. I reached between us, flicked her clit, and eventually she had to surrender to me—as they always did—and she came. I followed a few moments later, pulled out of her, threw the condom into the toilet, and left her standing there.
Luca and I decided to meet in Nashville. It was neutral ground, which was the best option for a second meeting considering we’d both be alone. Luca sized me up as I walked over to him in the deserted parking lot of an abandoned cinema complex.
I held out my hand for him to shake. He took it and to my surprise he didn’t try to squeeze my hand into dust like some people did when they wanted to intimidate. Maybe he knew it didn’t have that effect on me.
“We meet again,” he said with narrowed eyes. “Last time we didn’t get to talk in private. You were the one who threatened my wife.”
“I didn’t threaten her,” I objected. “I found a weakness in your safety measures, and Remo pointed it out to you to stop you from killing him.”
Luca’s gaze hardened. “You won’t threaten my wife ever again.”
Maybe the average person was afraid of him, but I regarded him coolly, my pulse as calm as always. “Scare tactics don’t work with me. I don’t have the disposition for them to have an effect on me. I have no intention of threatening your wife in the future. I think a truce between the Famiglia and the Camorra is the logical solution to our problem with the Outfit, and for truce to work, we will have to agree not to threaten or kill each other for the time being.”
Luca regarded me for several seconds, a sneer on his face. “Are any of you Falcone brothers sane?”
“What is your definition of sanity?” I asked. “Society regards neither you nor I as sane. We are psychopaths because we enjoy killing. Or are you trying to tell me you feel guilty when you torture and kill?”
Luca shrugged. “Maybe we are psychopaths, but you and Remo make most psychopaths look sane.”
I knew Remo and I were the result of the same catalyst. Animals adapted to their environment if they wanted to survive. It was an evolution process that sometimes happened on a small scale within a single being. Remo had turned toward his emotions, had let them loose, and as a result had barely any control over his rage.
My body had survived by getting rid of emotions altogether. I preferred my adaption to his. It made life more predictable.
Adamo hadn’t been born when Remo and I became the men we were today, and Savio had been only three years old, too young to understand or remember. They didn’t share Remo’s and my dispositions. “I’m perfectly capable to act accordingly based on society’s standards if I want.”
“And you want to marry for truce?”
“It is the only reason why I would consider marrying,” I said honestly. “Marriage really serves no other purpose. I don’t need companionship. I have that in my brothers and Fabiano. And I don’t need marriage to fulfill my sexual drive. There are enough women in Las Vegas for that.”
Luca let out a dark laugh. “I believe you.”
“I got the impression that you were in favor of a marriage between our families.”
“I’m not in favor, but as you said, it is the logical choice. I have to think of the Famiglia and my own family. I don’t want you crazy Falcone fuckers on my back. I prefer you making Cavallaro’s life hell. I have my hands full with the Bratva. I don’t want to deal with him. That you’re going to kill Scuderi in the most brutal way anyone could come up with is an added bonus.”
“Then it’s settled. Given your family’s background, your Captains and Underbosses are in favor of the union, I presume.”
“They follow my judgment, but arranged marriages are very popular in the Famiglia, of course.”
Arranged marriages were still popular even among the Camorrista. “Have you chosen a woman for me yet?”
Luca’s mouth tightened. “It won’t come as a surprise if I tell you that most of my Underbosses and Captains aren’t eager to send one of their daughters to the Camorra. The name Falcone has a certain reputation.”
“I’m perfectly capable of fulfilling my duties as a husband. I can provide protection, father children, and money isn’t a problem either.”
Luca grimaced. “I don’t give a fuck about that. What I want to know is if I will have to attack Vegas to save one of my cousins from you and your brothers.”
“You won’t have reason to save anyone, and even if you tried, Las Vegas is too strong for you. But I assure you, my wife won’t suffer violence.” I paused. “And must I remind you that it’s your family who upholds the tradition of bloody sheets and not ours? That forces any husband’s hand on the wedding night.”
“Some traditions can’t be overruled.”
“The question remains: Do you have someone in mind?”
Luca nodded. “One of my cousins is of marrying age. Her guardians suggested her for the union. She won’t be sad to leave the Famiglia.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Guardians? What is wrong with the girl?”
“Nothing. She’s more than capable of becoming a wife, but her father, my Uncle, was a traitor, and many people won’t let her forget it. She grew up with our Aunt Egidia.”
“A traitor’s daughter for us. Some people might consider that an insult.”
“Will your brother Remo be one of them?”
It was always hard to say with Remo, but he didn’t give a fuck about family history. “Remo judges people by their own actions, not by their parents’ wrongdoings. And she is still your cousin.”
He reached for his back pocket, and I lifted my hand to my holster.
Tension shot through Luca’s body. “Phone.” He pulled out his cell, and after a moment he turned it to me. On the screen was an image of a young woman with dark brown eyes and almost black hair but her naturally olive skin was rather pale, which suggested she didn’t leave the house very often. “This is my cousin, Kiara Vitiello. Nineteen. An honorable woman.” The last was said with a hint of warning.
“She will do,” I said.
Luca put his phone back into his back pocket. He nodded once then sighed. “Then it’s settled.”
I returned late that night to our mansion. Remo was awake as usual. He never slept more than a few hours. He got up from the sofa the moment I stepped into our game room. Savio and Adamo were busy playing a video game, some kind of race. Adamo was in lead; just like in real life, he knew how to drive a car.
“And?” There was a hint of eagerness in Remo’s voice. I wasn’t sure if he hoped Luca had disagreed after today’s meeting so we could attack the Famiglia or if he really wanted peace. Remo only ever thrived in chaos and violence.
“He suggested one of his cousins, Kiara Vitiello.”
“If her last name is Vitiello, her father must be one of Luca’s traitorous uncles.”
“You are right. Her father was killed for betraying Luca.”
“So he gives us the daughter of a traitor?” Remo asked in a low voice.
“We don’t care about these kinds of things.”
Remo threw one of his knives at one of the armchairs, and it wedged itself into the leather. There were more holes in it already. “But the Famiglia does. The arrogant asshole probably wants to send some fucking message with the marriage.”
“Perhaps Nino is meant as a punishment for her,” Savio mused as his car crashed into a wall, his brown eyes alight with what I assumed was amusement. Adamo didn’t seem to care that he won the game. He put down his controller and regarded me with a face that was probably supposed to convey boredom.
“Sometimes I think Nino is my punishment as well,” Remo said. “It makes sense that Luca would punish his cousin by giving her to Nino.”
I had considered that option as well, but Luca wasn’t the type to punish a woman like that, especially an innocent woman. “If it wasn’t for me, you would be long dead.”
Remo shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll never know.”
“So you’re really going to marry?” Adamo asked. His hair had grown too long and fell into his eyes so he had to push it back constantly. Unlike me, he never put it in a ponytail or styled it back.
“I am.”
“But you haven’t even met the woman. What if you can’t stand her?” Adamo asked.
Savio rolled his eyes. “Could you sound any more like a pussy? You really need to get fucked.”
Adamo’s face turned red. “Shut up.”
“Come on, you are almost fourteen. When I was your age, I’d already fucked a few girls.” Savio looked at Remo. “Lock him in a room with a few hookers so they can fuck him into shape.”
Adamo shoved Savio’s shoulder. “Shut up! I don’t need your hookers.”
“If you want to be a real Falcone, you can’t be a fucking virgin. It’s pathetic. Or perhaps you are a fag?”
Adamo jumped up and threw himself at Savio. They both tumbled to the ground and began punching. Adamo hadn’t yet fought in the cage like Savio, so it wasn’t wise of him to attack.
Remo shook his head, but he didn’t intervene. I moved closer to get a better view in case things got too rough. Savio had gotten the upper hand and straddled Adamo, punching him hard once, twice, and then lifted his arm for another punch. I took a step forward to stop him, but Remo swung himself over the sofa, landed beside Savio and grabbed him by the collar before pulling him off Adamo and shoving him away. Savio landed on the sofa, breathing hard and making a move to get back up.
“You stay there,” I ordered. His eyes held challenge before he nodded and slumped against the backrest.
Adamo was sprawled out on his back, face red and lips busted. He shook but made no move to stand. Remo bent over him and held out a hand. Adamo didn’t take it, only glared. “Adamo,” Remo said. “Don’t try my fucking patience.”
Adamo accepted Remo’s hand and let him pull him to his feet. Adamo winced, then with a last glare at Savio, he stormed toward the French doors and fled outside.
“Fuck, perhaps he’s really into guys,” Savio said, scrunching up his face. Then his eyes widened. Sometimes when we were out on business, he managed to act like a man, but in moments like this it became obvious that he wouldn’t be turning seventeen for another month. At his age, Remo and I had already been hardened by years on the street. I wasn’t sure if we’d ever been teenagers. “Will you kill him, then?”
Remo got into Savio’s face. “We are brothers. We will stand by each other. I don’t care if Adamo is into fucking goats or ducks or men. He is our brother.”
Savio nodded slowly. “He’s annoying as fuck. If fucking a guy makes him more tolerable, I can live with that.”
Remo snorted. Then he turned to me. “Talk to him. You are the only one who can deal with him.”
I headed into the garden, following the stench of smoke, toward one of the lounge chairs beside the pool. Adamo was hunched over, smoking a regular cigarette. Since Remo’s last warning, he hadn’t touched anything harder. I was curious how long that would last. I ripped the butt out of his mouth and threw it into the pool. “No drugs.”
“It’s a cigarette, not pot or heroine,” he mumbled.
I pulled another chair toward him and sat down across from him. “What’s going on?”
He glared. “Nothing.”
“Adamo, if you want to be treated like an adult, you have to act like one. Now tell me why you are acting the way you do.”
His gaze lowered to his sneakers. “I don’t want to screw a hooker or any of the strippers you take home.”
“That became obvious when you attacked Savio. What did I tell you about fighting?”
“Only attack if you are sure you can beat your opponent.”
“You can’t beat Savio. Not yet.”
“I won’t ever be as good as all of you. I don’t enjoy hurting people as much as you do.”
I had figured as much. Adamo had never been a very violent child. “You are strong and a good fighter. You don’t have to enjoy hurting or killing to be good at it.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to kill again.”
He had killed his first man during the attack on Roger’s Fight Arena, and unlike Remo, Savio, and I, his first murder haunted him. “You will get used to it.”
“Maybe I don’t want to get used to it,” he muttered. “I’m not like you.”
“You have time,” I said. There was no use discussing this now. He still had five months until he turned fourteen; he wouldn’t be inducted until then. “What’s your problem with the women your brothers and I take home?”
He stiffened and his head shot up. “I’m not gay.”
I regarded him but his face remained in the shadows, making it even harder to read him. “Remo wouldn’t punish you for it. We are brothers, Adamo. Nothing will change that.”
Adamo gnawed on his lip then winced.
“I will have to stitch that up.”
He nodded. “I’m not gay.”
I tilted my head, but he continued without further prodding.
“I don’t want a hooker because they don’t even like you. They screw you because you are their boss or because they are scared. I don’t want that. I want a girl who likes me and who wants to be with me.”
“In our world it’s difficult to find that.”
“Because you aren’t looking. Fabiano found Leona.”
“He did, but he went through a lot of women before that.”
Adamo shrugged. “I don’t want to be forced to sleep with a hooker.”
“Remo won’t force you nor will I.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I couldn’t understand Adamo’s reasoning. He was a teenage boy. At some point his sexual drive would be too strong to wait for someone he cared about, even more someone who cared for him. “But, Adamo, we are Falcones. People always act differently around us. Finding someone to trust is difficult.”
“Don’t you want your future wife to like you?”
“Affection isn’t necessary for a marriage. I have no expectations like that.”
“But what if she wants affection?” His mouth twisted at the word, and he winced again.
I gave him a look and stood. “You know me.”
Adamo shrugged. “I kind of feel sorry for her.”
“Come on. Let me stitch up your lip now.” Maybe I would have felt sorry for Kiara Vitiello as well if I were capable of it.
