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“Sit the fuck down,” I bark the order as I pull Bishop off his cousin, too late to stop the punch to the jaw he gets in as I throw him back toward the armchair he was sitting in.
There’s blood leaking from Kaos’s lip, and a deep bruise is already forming across his jaw and cheekbone, but he got off easy considering.
I stand between them, my shins against the table in the middle, and I ignore the crunch of glass beneath my feet. “This has to stop,” I snap. “I can’t have you fighting every other day because one of you says something the others don’t like.”
“Maybe he should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Bishop mumbles, his eyes locked on Kaos, where he sits with a smug smile on his face.
“Or maybe you should stop letting pussy ruin our lives. Didn’t Bianca teach you anything?”
The sound of her name sends the room into complete silence, and I brace myself for what I’m sure will be another brawl. We banned her name a few months after she died for this very reason. When you live in such close proximity with three other men, there’s bound to be tension at times, but there are certain topics that bring us to blows far quicker than others.
“Camilla is nothing like her,” Kovu grinds out, his jaw set in a tight line and his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles have turned white.
“Or maybe you just can’t see it. What do you think she’s going to do when she gets out of here? Do you think she’s going to be running back to get dick? Or do you think the Mafia queen is going to do exactly what she’s been trained to do and take us down in the process?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
KAOS
I’m fucking seething as I storm out of Crew’s office.
I’ve had enough of this bullshit.
I thought shit was bad when we were all pussy whipped last time, but this is fucking hell. They’re so obsessed with Camilla and her virgin cunt that they can’t see past their own fucking dicks.
I need to show them her true colors. I need to prove to them that she’s not a good fit for us, that she needs to go before she really is the reason for our demise.
My feet carry me toward her room, and I burst in without bothering to knock. The door is unlocked, which has my entire body trembling with barely contained rage.
They trust too fucking easily for a bunch of criminals who pride themselves on not letting anyone into their inner sanctum.
The door ricochets off the wall, the sound of drywall crunching under the force, making Camilla jump up from where she was perched on the bed.
Her cheeks are damp, her eyes are red, and it’s obvious she’s been crying, but the question is, why do I give a fuck?
“You scared me,” she whispers, folding her arms over her chest as if it will do anything to protect her from me.
I don’t respond, instead advancing on her without missing a step.
“Kaos?” Camilla says quietly, her eyes flaring with something akin to fear, but she’s not scared. If she was, she’d be trying to retreat. She’d be searching for an escape route. But she’s not. She’s watching my every step with keen interest. Her eyes search my face and fall on the blood leaking from my lip, her brows furrowing. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get you some ice for your cheek?”
Perhaps I would have been able to continue my tirade of anger. To yell and demand she get the fuck out of our lives, to tell me what her plans are to ensure our demise the moment she steps out of the complex. But the way her gray eyes stare up at me, vulnerable and full of worry for me, a man who has done little else but yell at her and make her feel unwelcome.
It’s not until her brow furrows and my name falls from her pretty pink lips that I realize I’ve been staring at her for God knows how long.
Camilla steps around me, moving into the small bathroom adjoining her room, and comes back a moment later with a damp washcloth.
She only hesitates for a second before she steps toward me and reaches up, carefully dabbing the blood from the corner of my lip, her eyes locked on the task at hand.
This is the first time I’ve noticed our obvious size difference. I’m six foot seven and built like a linebacker, while she’s tiny. Maybe five foot four and perfectly petite. Her full tits and perky ass are the perfect proportion to her frame, and I don’t know how I haven’t noticed it before.
Why the fuck am I noticing it now?
“Are you going to tell me why you burst in here, broke the wall, and then proceeded to not say a word?” she asks, a small smile tipping up the corners of her lips. Has she always looked so pretty when she smiles? Have I even seen her smile?
“Why are you still here?” I ask, the bitterness of my own tone taking me off guard, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she stares up at me, considering the question I’ve asked her.
“I’m not sure,” she replies, and I know to my fucking core she’s telling the truth. “It’s occurred to me to run. I’m sure I could if I wanted to. Bishop and Kovu aren’t very thorough with keeping me locked in this room anymore.” She dabs the last of the blood away and pulls the cloth from my face, dropping her hands between us. “But I guess I don’t want to. I should.” She half-laughs. “I should have been running for the hills as soon as I realized who you all were. I know at any time, one of you could hand me over to Charles or that you’ll use me once I become the head of the De Marco family, but…” She pauses and releases a breath. “I don’t know. Being here, being around all of you, it’s the most at home I’ve ever felt, and I guess I’m not ready to give that up just yet.”
