Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Even though I was accustomed to violence, my adrenaline had spiked when Evelyn had been taken from me. And I’d had a powerful orgasm of my own when she’d boldly stroked me to completion in the shower.
Her hair was so soft beneath my fingers, and her sweet scent lulled me into relaxation. My eyelids grew heavy. I allowed them to droop closed, just for a few minutes…
My mother’s elegant fingers handled the fruit with care, making sure not to bruise the precious product. She was helping my father tidy the grocery store—something that the owner didn’t mind as long as she didn’t damage anything. It would be another long shift for him, so she’d brought me to see him. I was old enough now to understand that she missed him when he was away, and she was eager to help out at the store so that she could spend some time with him.
My fingers tightened around a peach as resentment coiled my muscles. I could hear boys laughing outside.
Laughing at me?
My cheeks heated. Whatever amused them, I would never know. I was an outsider, a pathetic weakling.
I was constantly under my parents’ watchful eyes, never allowed to interact with the other boys in the neighborhood. My mother insisted that it was too dangerous, and I needed to dedicate myself to my studies at home. She told me that an education was my way out, and if I kept my record clean, I’d be able to move away from Le Vele one day.
While the other boys were out enjoying their freedom and learning how to become men, I was sheltered. I watched them from the window in our dingy studio apartment that my mother tried to make into a home for us. They were growing tall and strong, while I was skinny and too short for my age. My father promised that I’d hit my growth spurt in the next couple of years, and I shouldn’t worry about such things at the age of eleven.
I shot a furtive glance at my parents. They were having a quiet conversation near the check-out counter, where my father was stationed. My father grinned, and my mother tucked her hair behind her ear with a shy smile.
I rolled my eyes. They were so in love that it was nauseating.
A real man wouldn’t be so devoted to his wife that he did whatever she said. My father could be out earning real money to support us, but he remained in this dead-end job at the grocery store because it made her happy. We barely had the resources to put food on our own table, but he sold it to others. It was a joke.
They were so lost in their little flirtation that they might not notice if I slipped away. I could still hear the boys, jeering and laughing.
I peeked through the glass door and noted five of them outside. The biggest one leaned casually against the wall of the building across the street. He tipped back a bottle of clear alcohol and took a swig, barely grimacing as he swallowed down the cheap liquor. One of the other boys held out his hand, demanding his turn with the drink.
The biggest one—clearly their leader—cuffed him on the back of his head and snapped something, nodding at the other three. They were all clustered around a motorbike.
The bike roared to life, and they cheered.
I wasn’t stupid; I knew it didn’t belong to them. They were one of the baby gangs that terrorized Le Vele. They took what they wanted and lived lawless, adventurous lives. If they were lucky, one day they would become camorristi, and they would escape this hellish neighborhood.
The leader glanced around furtively to check if there were any witnesses. Dark eyes paused on me, narrowing with suspicion.
I swallowed hard but tipped my chin back. My fists clenched at my sides as I tried to make myself look as big as possible. These boys only understood strength, and any show of cowardice on my part would probably end in a beating.
If I impressed them, they might ask me to join them outside. They might let me have a taste of the wild freedom they enjoyed.
The big one straightened, and the others snapped to attention. They strolled across the street, approaching the shop. I stood my ground, waiting for them.
“Massimo!” My mother’s voice was more frightened than chiding. She grabbed my upper arm and dragged me back from the glass door.
I tried to remain staunchly in place, but she hauled me behind her.
My face burned with embarrassment, but I was too weak to resist even my slender mom. She was humiliating me, and I scowled at her.
“Let me go. You’re making me look like a pussy.”
She gasped. “Where did you learn that word? You know better.”
“Don’t talk like that around your mother.” My father snaped at me, but a note of fear made his voice hitch too.