of roses in my life. I scrubbed the marble floor on my hands and knees. This f
the Moret
the Costello m
in my own house, forced to clean it
he new Don of th
illed my fath
o look up to know it was him. His presence filled the room, cold a
live, pr
ith the contempt he showed me in t
floor, scrubbing harde
s shoe, not hard, just a reminder of his
shadows, his dark eyes holding a fire that never seemed to
new the
licked open. I didn't move from my thin mattress. The room w
ing to him. He was no longer the Don in a tailored suit. He was just Dante
t on the edge of my cot. The mattress dipped un
worse than his
ice rough, "trusted your fat
had heard this sto
d my family into an ambush. I watched
of my jaw. His touch was a strange mix of vio
against my lips. "He was the one who held the gun to my si
to shed burned
very time I look at you, I see them. I see what your
for the bloo
ght, he came
es brutal. It wasn't love. It was a violent, twisted obs
was his captive, his
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