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I hoped they had at least found a way to keep the truth from Sofia. She was too young, too innocent to be burdened with the cruelness of our world.
The sound of knocking followed by the lock being turned made me face the door. I winced at the dull pain in my forearm. A teenage boy in fight shorts and a T-shirt stepped into my room. He had slightly longer curly brown hair and was lean but muscled.
“Hey,” he said hesitantly, brown eyes kind. “Remo sent me to get you.”
I didn’t move from my spot at the window. “What are you, his servant?”
The boy smiled an unguarded, honest smile. A smile few could afford in our circles. “I’m his youngest brother, but that’s as good as the same in Remo’s eyes.”
His kindness confused me. It didn’t seem fake. My eyes flitted down to his forearm, free of the markings of the Camorra, the knife and the eye. “You haven’t been inducted yet.”
The smile dropped. “I will be in two days.”
“But you don’t want to,” I said curiously.
Caution replaced the open friendliness. “We shouldn’t keep Remo waiting.”
He opened the door wider and gestured for me to walk through. I wondered what he would do if I refused to follow him. He was taller than me and definitely stronger, but I got the impression he would have a hard time laying a hand on me. If he’d been my only opponent, I might have taken my chances, but Remo was downstairs.
Finally, I moved toward him and followed him through the long winding hallway.
“I’m Adamo, by the way,” he said.
I glanced up at him. “Serafina.”
“I know.”
“I suppose you Falcone brothers were all in on the kidnapping,” I muttered.
His brows drew together, but he remained silent. There was a hint of … embarrassment and disapproval on his face.
After a few minutes, we arrived in the lower part of the mansion, in some sort of entertainment hub with a bar, sofas, TV, and a boxing ring. A punching bag lay amidst rubble, and Remo was glaring down at it as if it had personally insulted him. He, too, was in fight trunks and nothing else.
The memory of how he’d held me under the shower, of how I’d been pressed up to him completely naked resurfaced. I hadn’t registered much at the time, and even in the immediate aftermath, but now my gaze trailed over the display of hard muscles, the many scars that spoke of his violent past and present. Every inch of Remo screamed danger. His height, his muscles, his scars, but worse: his eyes.
They found me and as always it was a struggle to meet them. Around Remo you felt like the omega in a pack of wolves. Your eyes wanted to avoid his out of a deeply buried primal impulse because Remo was the alpha. There was no mistaking it.
Adamo left my side and went over to the sofa, where he plopped down and picked up a controller. A gun lay on the coffee table in front of him.
Remo stalked closer. “Adamo,” he clipped, indicating the gun. Damn it.
Adamo grasped it and shoved it under his leg.
“I wouldn’t even know how to use it,” I lied.
Remo smiled darkly. “You are a good liar.” His skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat as if he hadn’t bothered showering after a workout.
“Why did you call me down? Do you have another torture session planned for me?”
Remo glanced down at my wound, his expression hardening—all sharp cheekbones and tight jaw. “There’s food in the kitchen for you and something to drink, unless you prefer hard liquor, then this is where you’ll get it.” He nodded toward the bar to my left where an array of bottles, most of them less than half full, awaited consumption. Scotch, bourbon, whiskey, gin …
I definitely wouldn’t get intoxicated while I was being held captive by the Camorra. “I’m free to walk around the house?” I asked.
Remo smirked. “I don’t think we’ve reached that level of trust yet.”
“We won’t reach any level of trust, Remo.”
Steps echoed out in the hall behind me, and I turned halfway but not enough to lose sight of Remo. I preferred keeping him in my line of vision. As if he knew exactly what I was doing, one corner of his mouth twitched upward.
Savio walked in with that arrogant swagger. “Got someone to fix the punching bag.”
Remo tore his gaze from me. “And it took you four hours?”
“Took care of some other business while I was at it,” Savio said with a shrug.
Remo shook his head with obvious disapproval. “One day I’m going to seriously lose my shit on you.”
Savio didn’t look concerned, and I doubted it was because he was as emotionless as Nino. Savio knew he had nothing to fear from his older brother. The realization surprised me, and I filed it away for later use.
