Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
"Diego's my foster brother," she whispers, shocking me this time. She hasn't spoken a single word about Diego Butera since I brought her here. I haven't asked her about him either. She vowed not to tell me about him, and I promised myself not to make her break that vow.
My hand falters on her hip.
"Alvise Butera adopted me when I was ten. After Alvise died, Diego raised me."
"Tesoro," I murmur, distressed on her behalf. "You don't have to tell me this."
"I know. I just…I just wanted you to know who he is to me," she says, turning slightly so one mocha eye peeks up at me. "He's my family."
"You were in foster care?" I ask instead of telling her that Mattia and I already worked out her connection to Diego for ourselves.
She nods. "I grew up in a group home."
My heart clenches. "What happened to your family, tesoro?"
She hesitates for a moment, something shifting through her expression too quickly for me to read. "They died," she says, her voice remote. "In a fire."
"Jesus," I whisper, pulling her closer. For the first time, I let myself consider exactly how much she stands to lose here. Diego is her brother, the only family she has left. If I kill him—when I kill him, I'll be taking the last of her family from her.
My stomach twists. No part of me finds pleasure in this thought. No part of me relishes it. If Diego's death hurts her…mafankulo. For the first time, I realize just how fucked this entire situation is. We're rats in a maze, and the walls are caving in on us.
I think she knows it too. Her arms tighten around me as if she intends to mold us into one being and keep the outside world from intruding. She's not ready to lose this either. The bond between us is strong, but new. This threatens to shatter it, to shatter us.
"I'm not going to let you two kill each other," she says, lifting up suddenly. Her eyes meet mine, filled with stubborn determination. "I'm going to find a way to stop this stupid war before it gets one of you killed, Rafe."
"Ah, tesoro," I whisper, pulling her down to rain kisses across her crown. I don't have the heart to tell her that I fear it's already far too late for that. If I allow Diego to live now, there will be no stopping a war with Genovese. He'll throw everything he has at me. And when he's done, others will try their luck too. They'll see my leniency toward Diego as weakness, and they'll come one by one to try to take my crown. The streets of Chicago will run red with blood, and it'll be on my hands…and on Diego's.
If it weren't for my brothers, I'd give the other families the fucking keys to the kingdom. I would have handed them over the day my father died and told them to have fun dismantling his empire brick by brick. But I won't lose my brothers, and I won't lose Amalia. Not now, not ever.
What does that leave?
There is no path forward that doesn't end in destruction. If I kill Diego, I lose Amalia. If I allow him to live, I risk her life and the lives of my brothers. I've always chafed under the bonds of this empire, but for the first time I truly fucking loathe it.
One way or another, it'll cost me what I can't afford to lose. It'll cost me her.
No. I don't care who I have to fight or kill or indebt myself to or pay off. For twenty years, I've given everything to this fucking kingdom. It took my mother. It cost me the respect of my twin. I gave up my freedom, my future, and blackened my soul to keep my word and keep my brothers safe. I've given up enough. I won't allow this fucking life to take her too.
"This isn't your fight, Amalia," I tell her, dragging her back down into the bed with me. "This is between me and Diego. We'll resolve it without involving you."
"I'm already involved, Rafe. I'm your prisoner."
"Queen," I growl. "You're my queen, tesoro."
"Dario Marchesi," she blurts.
I blink at her.
"Diego hates you because of Dario Marchesi," she says, her gaze shifting back and forth across my face, her teeth sunk firmly into her bottom lip.
I frown, trying to place the name. A vague memory floats up. He was a soldato with a penchant for beating on women. He hospitalized his comare fourteen, fifteen years ago. It wasn't the first time. But it was the last.
"What about him?" I ask, not sure how Diego knows about him.
"He was Diego's biological father," Amalia says, her voice soft.
"Alvise Butera was Diego's father."
"No," she says with a shake of her head, "he wasn't. Alvise married Diego's mom when Diego was just a baby, but Dario was his biological father. He was in prison for drug trafficking, so he agreed to let Alvise adopt Diego. He kept in touch with Diego once he was paroled." She gives me a sad frown. "Diego knows you killed him, Rafe."