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My monstrous side had come out to play but the revelry had only just begun.
“Give me a sec. He’s in the cage with Nevio.” My nephew was only six, almost seven, but Remo and he often trained in the cage, mainly to control Nevio’s outbursts and his hyperactivity.
I kissed her cheek and she beamed up at me. “Thank you.” She was the complete opposite of Nevio: shy, careful and peace-loving.
“Cake before lunch? What kind of anarchy is this?” I asked, sinking down on one of the empty chairs between Fabiano and Savio. “Nevio’s wish. Anarchy is his middle name,” Fina said, rolling her eyes. “My wish too,” Greta said softly. Fina gave her daughter a patient smile. “Yours too, but we both know you always say yes to Nevio’s wishes.” “Not always,” Greta said even quieter. “Too often, mia cara,” Remo said, kissing her temple.
“Adamo’s not the hero in this story. Nor are you or my father. I’ll be the hero in my story.”
Adamo cupped my neck, startling me and pressed his lips to mine. My first reaction was to shove him away, even as my body screamed for more. My fingers curled around his strong shoulders for the shove but instead I dug my nails in and leaned even closer.
“Fuck me, Adamo. Fuck me like you mean it.”
“Sweet little girl. Good girl. Give Daddy what he needs.”
“Don’t ever try to be good to people who hurt you. They don’t deserve it.”
“A look I usually only see in Remo’s eyes. The hunger for blood and violence. The need for death and destruction. As a baby and younger child, you looked exactly like Remo. And on occasion a similar temper would shine through.”
