The next few days after my attempt at running away, I fell into a strange routine. Remo picked me up for a run in the morning. Sometimes I wondered if he wanted me to risk escaping again because the chase gave him a thrill, but I didn’t waste my energy on it. Remo was too strong and fast. I had to beat him with wit. Unfortunately, he was as intelligent as he was cruel. He could twist my words faster than I thought possible, and I occasionally caught myself enjoying our strange debates.
I didn’t have to hold back when I was around Remo. I didn’t try to present my best side to him like I had done with Danilo because I didn’t care about his approval. I was myself, unfiltered, careless, and strangely enough Remo seemed to get a sick kick out of it. The Capo was a mystery to me. He hadn’t tried to torture me or force himself on me like I’d expected, and I couldn’t help but be wary because Remo’s motives were cruel.
“Once I set you free, you’ll return to Danilo like a well-trained carrier pigeon.” Remo said as we jogged along the canyon trail one day.
“Your bird analogies are starting to get old,” I muttered. I was glad Remo didn’t know Dad called me dove. He’d only use it to his advantage.
“But they are so very fitting, Angel.”
I slanted a look at him. He had a strange smile on his face. His shirt clung to his body with sweat and showed the outline of his muscles and his gun holsters. “What are you in your ornithology scheme? The vulture waiting for the poor pigeon to drop out of the sky so you can tear into her?”
Remo let out a deep chuckle, which sent a shocking shiver down my spine. I sped up, trying to force my body into submission. “I don’t think you’ll ever fall from the sky. I’ll have to snatch you out of the air like an eagle.”
I snorted, not caring if it was an undignified sound. “You are insane.”
He fell silent, easily following my faster pace. Remo was fit to the point of admiration, I had to give him that.
After we returned to the car, we shared a bottle of water. “Why are you doing this?”
He cocked one eyebrow. “Giving you water?”
“Treating me decently.”
He smiled darkly. “Why do you sound almost disappointed?”
Part of me was because I knew the man in front of me was ruthless and cruel to the very core. More monster than man. The weaker part was relieved and didn’t want to question his motives. “When will the torture begin?”
Remo propped his arm up against the roof of the car and stared down at me. “Who says the torture hasn’t already begun? Just because I’m not torturing you doesn’t mean I’m not torturing others through you.”
I flinched. My family. They were suffering because they imagined the horrors I was going through, horrors that weren’t taking place—yet.
“You are a monster,” I bit out.
Remo leaned even closer, radiating heat and power, the scent of fresh sweat and his own forbidden aroma wrapping around me. I returned his gaze. Dark eyes. Monster eyes, but God help me, they always kept me frozen with their intensity.
“You know, Angel, I think you enjoy my monstrosity more than you want to admit.”
I didn’t have a chance for a comeback. Remo’s lips crushed mine, his tongue sliding in, and my body reacted with a wave of heat. I clutched his shoulders, meeting his tongue with the same fervor.
Then realization struck me. I tried to shove him away, but Remo didn’t budge. He wrapped his arms around me, molding our bodies together. Breathtaking, terrifying, intoxicating.
I bit down on his lower lip, but Remo didn’t pull back. He growled into my mouth and tightened his hold, his kiss turning even harder. The taste of his blood swirled in my mouth, and I pulled away in equal disgust and sick fascination. Remo’s mouth was covered with blood. He truly looked the monster then. A dark smile curled his lips, and I opened the door and got into the car, trying to catch my breath, trying to escape his overwhelming presence. I caught sight of my reflection in the rearview mirror and cringed. My lips, too, were red with Remo’s blood. In that moment, I didn’t look any less a monster than he did.
The moment Remo picked me up the next morning, I knew it wasn’t for a run. For one, he was too early, and second he was only in his briefs. I tore my gaze away from his body.
“We need to record additional motivation for your uncle,” Remo explained. “Come.”
I perched on the bed, not moving an inch. Another recording?
When I didn’t follow his command, Remo raised his eyebrows. “Come,” he said with more force, and it took considerable effort to remain motionless. I stubbornly returned his gaze.
He stalked toward me and bent over me. “Maybe I’m being too lenient with you,” he murmured, fingers nudging my chin up.
I smiled then gasped when Remo jerked me to my feet and threw me over his shoulder. His big warm hand rested on my butt as he carried me, and for a few moments I stilled in shock. More because of my body’s reaction to the feel of Remo’s palm than to my head hanging down over his shoulder. I started wiggling and Remo’s squeezed my butt cheek in warning.
I rammed my elbow into his side, but apart from a sharp exhale, Remo didn’t falter. “Let me down,” I wheezed, horrified by the way my center tightened at the feel of Remo’s hand on my backside. If he found out, I’d die on the spot.
Remo didn’t set me down, however, until we were back in the cell. My head swam for a moment, but when my vision cleared I noticed the shackles hanging from a chain at the wall. Remo nudged me forward. “Arms up,” he ordered.
“What?” I gasped out.
He didn’t wait for me to comply. He grabbed my wrists and secured me. Confusion then terror shot through me. Maybe he was finally sick of torturing others when he had me to have fun with.
Remo leaned down and I shivered. His dark eyes roamed my face, and he gave a shake of his head. “Calm down. We need to give your family a show. I’ll give that perfect throat a hickey for a few convincing photos, nothing else. Don’t get your panties in a bunch over nothing, Angel.”
“You want to make my family believe I’m shackled up in a cell?”
“Among other things,” he murmured. His hands reached for the hem of my chemise and tugged hard. The fabric came apart until only the seam of the neckline held it together. My nipples hardened and Remo watched silently then released a harsh breath.
I swallowed. “These photos are fake. I’m not dangling from chains all day, and you’re not ripping my clothes off,” I muttered.
He smiled down at me. “Would you prefer if I didn’t have to fake them, Angel?”
I swallowed again, goose bumps rising on my skin.
“I didn’t think so,” he said in a slightly rougher voice then carefully brushed my hair away from my throat. I held my breath when his lips were almost at my skin. “You smell so fucking sweet. Owning you one day will be the sweetest triumph of my life.”
“You’ll never own me.”
Remo pressed his lips to my skin. Then his tongue darted out, licking along my pulse point. He sucked and nibbled on my throat, his fingers cupping my head, tilting it to the side. My eyes fluttered shut. The sensations were foreign and mesmerizing. Remo’s mouth on my throat seemed to send shockwaves through my body, creating sensations I’d never experienced before. His warm body pressed into me, his scent flooding my nose.
I was motionless, stunned, confused by my body’s reaction. How could my throat be such a sensitive spot of my body? How could it fill me with so much forbidden desire?
He pulled back but didn’t straighten immediately, his face still close to my throat as he exhaled. When he finally stood, his dark eyes sent a new ripple through my body. His fingertips brushed over my tender throat, and my lips parted in a small exhale. Our eyes locked and one corner of his mouth lifted.
“Did you like that?”
“Of course not,” I snapped.
“I thought you were a good liar.”
My cheeks heated and I glared but didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if my next lie would be any more convincing.
“It’s okay, Angel,” Remo said in a low voice. “There are worse things than enjoying pleasure.”
I wanted to lash out at him, but he wasn’t even the main reason for my anger. I was furious at myself, enraged by my body for its reactions.
“I’m Danilo’s,” I said firmly.
Remo narrowed his eyes. “Are you reminding me or yourself?”
“I’m promised to him. I want him, not you.”
“You can have an Underboss, someone who’s learned to do another man’s biding, or the Capo, a man who has men follow his command.”
“I can have a monster or a man.”
“Do you really think Danilo isn’t a monster?
“He isn’t a monster like you.”
Remo nodded. “He’s a lesser monster. Who’d want to settle for less?”
“You don’t even want me, Remo. All you want is to hold my fate over my family’s head. Stop toying around.”
He stepped back, turned around, and picked up his phone. “Look broken for a moment.”
I glared.
“That’s not the look we’re going for.” He waited. Then his jaw tightened, and he came toward me again, holding my chin. “I said it before, choose your battles wisely. I’m not a patient man nor a decent one.”
He retreated and finally satisfied with my expression, he took a few photos. Guilt left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take for my family to free me, if they succeeded at all, and I had to think of self-preservation even if I hated myself for it.
He unshackled me and I rubbed my wrists then touched my tender throat. Remo watched me. “I like seeing my mark on you.”
I didn’t say anything.
Later, I spent a long time staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Remo had left his marks like he’d said. They were red and purple, and made me feel a wave of shame because of how my body had reacted. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me.
A knock drew me out of my reverie. Dragging myself away from the mirror, I went into the bedroom, where I found the youngest Falcone. He looked somewhat lost in the middle of my room.
“I have a few books and ice cream for you. It’s one of the hottest days of the summer. I thought you could use cooling off,” he said, holding up four books and a bowl filled with ice cream.
His gaze moved to my throat, and his brows drew together. He walked past me and put everything down on my nightstand before he shoved his hands into his pockets, looking awkward. My eyes lingered on the fresh tattoo on his forearm.
“You are a Made Man now.”
He glanced down then nodded slowly. “I’m a Falcone.”
I went over to the nightstand to take a look at everything.
“It’s chocolate chip. It’s all we got. Savio’s got a sweet tooth. The rest of us not so much.”
“So you gave me Savio’s ice cream? He’ll love that after the soup I threw at him.”
Adamo burst out laughing. “I wish I could have been there. He’s so full of himself. I bet his expression was hilarious.” He sobered then cleared his throat.
I smiled. “He was shocked.”
It was difficult to believe that Adamo was related to Remo. There was a slight resemblance, but Adamo’s hair was curly and not as dark, and his eyes were a warmer brown. But the biggest difference was their personality. I picked up the bowl and pushed a spoonful of the sugary treat into my mouth before sinking down onto the bed.
Adamo came a bit closer and leaned against one of the posts. “I wasn’t sure what kind of books you like, so I brought a memoir, a thriller, a romance, and a fantasy book. We don’t have many new books. I don’t think I’m allowed to give you my kindle. You could use it for other stuff.”
I smiled. “It’s okay.” Despite my intention to hate on every Falcone, it was difficult not to like Adamo. “I think I’ll pass on the thriller, though. I’ve had plenty of thrill in my life recently.”
“I know,” Adamo said quietly. He indicated my throat. “What happened there?”
Heat shot into my cheeks, and I allowed myself another taste of the ice cream to gather my thoughts.
Adamo watched me closely. “Did he hurt you?”
I considered lying, making up a brutal story to drive a wedge between the brothers, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. “No. He’s hurting my family by making them believe he’s hurting me.”
Relief flashed across Adamo’s face, and for a second it annoyed me, but then I thought of Samuel and understood.
“You’ll be united with them soon,” he said.
I swallowed and nodded. Adamo touched my shoulder lightly then drew back. “Sorry I should have asked before touching you.”
I shook my head. “How did you end up being so polite and kind when you are related to Remo? Were you raised by different parents?”
“Remo and Nino were raised by our parents, but Savio and I were mostly raised by Remo and Nino.”
I stared. “They raised you?”
He nodded then rubbed the back of his head as if he realized he shouldn’t have told me. “I should go.”
I tried to imagine Remo raising a child. It blew my mind, especially since they all must have been on the run at the time.
Night had fallen and I was reading in bed, when suddenly the lights went out. I blinked into the unexpected darkness and climbed out of bed, putting the book down on the nightstand.
Following the trail of silvery moonlight, I glanced out of the window. The lights in the garden and every other window of the mansion that I could see were out as well. In the distance I could make out lights from other houses.
My pulse picked up. What was happening? My eyes searched the shadows of the perimeter, and then I saw two figures running across the lawn toward the house.
The Outfit. It had to be.
They had come to save me.
Euphoria pulsed through me, followed by fear. This was Remo’s territory. The Falcones knew every inch of their property and the Outfit didn’t. What if Samuel was among the attackers?
I clung to the windowsill, immobilized by terror at the thought. Dante and Dad would have never allowed my brother to come here. He was the heir to Minneapolis. He was too important for such a risky endeavor.
Maybe the dark gave the Outfit an advantage. Maybe it caught Remo and his brothers by surprise. Who knew how many of them were even in the mansion?
The lock of my room turned, and I faced the door. This was my chance to run. The Outfit didn’t know where in the house I was being kept. They probably expected to find me in the basement. I needed to find them first. It would take too long for them to search every part of the mansion.
A tall figure stepped into the room. It was difficult to make out much, and it didn’t matter who had entered. I attacked without hesitation, storming toward my opponent, hoping to ram my elbow into his stomach. Unfortunately, backlit by moonlight I was an easy target. My opponent sidestepped me then grabbed my shoulder and thrust me forward. I collided with the wall and a firm chest pressed against my back.
“No soup today?” Savio taunted, but his voice was filled with tension. I tried shoving away from the wall, but Savio didn’t budge. “Do I have to knock you out or will you stop the fucking struggling?”
I jerked my head back, hoping to hit his nose, but he was taller than I remembered, and the back of my head collided with his chin.
“Fuck,” he snarled. He lodged his arms around my chest and waist like Samuel had done in jest not too long ago, and despite my thrashing, he carried me through the room and shoved me into the bathroom. “I won’t carry you into our panic room like that. Fuck it.”
I whirled around to face him.
“Don’t fucking move,” he growled.
“The Outfit will kick your asses. I bet you shit your pants when the lights went out,” I hissed.
Savio chuckled. “It was Nino who turned off the lights. We know every inch of this fucking house by heart. We don’t need lights. By the way, our surveillance camera showed a guy with blond hair. I wonder who will kill him. Remo or Nino?”
I froze. Samuel?
Savio closed the bathroom door. I rushed forward and hammered my fists against the wood. “Let me out! Let me out!”
“Scream all you want,” Savio said. “Maybe it attracts an Outfit fucker so I can have some fun as well.”
I pressed my palms against the door and slowly sank down onto my knees. Savio had to be lying. Samuel wasn’t here. If Remo or Nino got him in their hands …
