Page 94 of Sweet Prison

“I always wondered how the mean donkey-hole knew everything that was happening. I even suspected he had someone planted in our staff who was somehow reporting to him.” Her words are muffled by my hair. “I should have guessed. Always knew that my quiet little sister is so much more than she lets people see.”

“He’s not mean, Nera. Massimo is just… Massimo. And he’s never pretended otherwise.”

“Hmm. For your sake, I hope that’s true.” She looks at me pointedly again, as if trying to find more answers. “Dear God, Zara. How did you manage to fall in love with ourstepbrother? And only through letters?”

“There were a lot of letters,” I mumble. “Over the years, about three hundred between us.”

“Jesus. And I thought my relationship with Kai started in an off-the-wall way.”

“You’re not gonna call me crazy? Or tell me that it’s just a silly crush and I’ll get over it soon?”

Nera leans back, finally releasing me from her assessing stare, and sweeps the loose strands of hair from my face.

“You’ve never been silly, Zara. Actually, I’ve often wondered how you’re not myoldersister.” She smiles. “So, if you’re telling me that you’re in love with that raging shitgoblin of a man, I believe you. What the hell do you see in him, though?” Her grin stretches from ear to ear. “Because it can’t be his sunny personality. God, I still shiver remembering him laying into me with that booming voice every time I went to see him in prison,” she says with an exaggerated shake of her head and shoulders.

I laugh. “Yes, he has a bit of a problem controlling his temper. But if you try to get to know him better, you’ll see that he’s really not that bad. Sometimes, it’s almost like he hastwo different personas, and he rarely lets people see that other, softer side of him.”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it, because my brain can’t make that leap at the moment.”

Lucia’s happy squeal resonates from the path, and we both look over, watching her run around the row of duck statues while her dad chases after her.

“Massimo is worried how the Family will react if they find out about us,” I say.

“He’s right to be worried. You know how stuck-up and conservative those people are. Blood or not, you two are considered siblings. Familial kinship is the most important social value for Cosa Nostra. They will crucify you, Zara.”

“Probably.”

“Are you sure he’s ‘It’ for you? Because if he’s not, and the two of you eventually part ways, no other Cosa Nostra man will ever come near you. You know our world as well as I do. A woman who dares to have a relationship before marriage is frowned upon. I shudder to think what would happen if that woman chose to do so with her own stepbrother.”

“Massimo is my soulmate, Nera. He’s the other half of me. I can’t even imagine myself with any other man because it’s always beenhim. And honestly, I don’t give a fuck what others might think about me. I’m done hiding, worrying about everyone’s opinions, their judgments, their pity. Massimo just seesme. Just me. And he gets me. Better than any of those people who’ve known me all my life.” I sigh. “The problem is, Massimo is afraid I won’t be able to endure their scorn… or the malice that’s bound to follow. But I know I can. And I’m willing to face it all to be with him.”

I look at my sister, expecting her doubt to show on her face. There’s none, though. Only quiet understanding, and maybe a bit of curiosity shining through.

“He’s so harsh with everyone,” I continue. “He yells, shouts at the slightest provocation. Except with me. With me, he’s always tender and kind. Not once has he raised his voice at me. I love that… How different he is when we’re together. But—and don’t misunderstand me here—I’m not saying I want him to yell at me… It’s just… sometimes, I feel as if he’s trying to shelter me too much. As if he’s afraid I won’t be able to handle him. The real him. Protecting me from himself, kinda like he’s protecting me fromLa Famiglia.”

It’s never more apparent than when we make love. He is so gentle. So careful with me. I love it, but at the same time, it makes me feel fragile. Like I’m too delicate for him to be himself. However, I’m neither weak nor breakable. Not anymore. And I want all of him. The good, and the bad, and hopefully, the naughty. I can take it all. Want it all.

“And can you?” Nera arches her eyebrow. “Handle the real him?”

“Yes. I just wish he’d realize it, too. But I’m afraid he might not.”

“ZAHARA!”

I nearly vault off the bench. With my heart caught somewhere in my throat, I jerk my head from side to side, looking around the park grounds. I’ve been present for an array of Massimo’s shouting stunts. The spectrum of intonations and decibels his vocal cords were able to hit in those moments defied logic, but I’ve never heard this particular quality in his tone. It feels like the ground beneath my feet is quaking from the sheer power of his voice.

“DAMN IT! ZAHARA!”

Frantically searching, I try to locate the source, but it’s nearly impossible. The whole park seems to be reverberating with Massimo’s thundering voice. On the paths, parkgoers stand frozen, only their heads and eyes swinging around in a panic. Kai, however, with Lucia on his hip while he’s shielding her as much as he can with his arm and body, is scurrying toward us at top speed. His right hand is already inside his jacket, clearly gripping the gun in his holster.

“You said Massimo never shouts at you,” Nera mumbles next to me.

A small smile pulls at my lips. “He doesn’t.”

I notice him then. Emerging from behind the trees, eating up the distance with his huge strides as he hurries toward the bench where Nera and I are sitting. The sleeves of his gray shirt are rolled up, revealing the bulging muscles of his inked forearms. When he stops before us, his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls in quick succession as if he’s sprinted through a marathon. The expression on his face is one of outright fury. But the deep wells of his dark eyes look more than slightly terrified.

“Angel,” he says as he grits his teeth, all while he spears me with a glare. The tension is rolling off him in waves, but his voice is back to the throaty soft timbre he always uses with me. “Care to explain…?” he continues in that same docile tone.

I’m just about to answer, when—

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