Cosa Nostra: A Steamy Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 3), Nicci Harris [read a book txt] 📗

killed his men and with me, the one who decapitated his brother in front of his very eyes. It's a reality I would never live. I wouldn't drop to my knees while my brother's murderer breathed the same air as me.

As the car pulls away from the curb, I study every flourish of the cursive writing on my finger, which is now tainted with track lines painted in another man's blood.

Ardent One.

In Latin it means 'to burn'. And she does burn me down to my core. I inhale deeply and exhale even louder. The shrill wailing of screams now gone only seems to make the silence more vivid. More unnatural.

As the car cruises slowly through the streets, its tyres spinning, rolling, its movement becomes rhythmic. The engine hums. Soothes. And I think about hazel freckles. Slouching into the seat, my head drops back against the rest. I close my eyes.

And I see hers full of fear.

Cassidy

The first time I saw this house, I was in awe of it. Even though its grandeur hasn't dwindled, another feeling holds more prominence - a homey feeling. When I step out from the passenger side, Carter is already there, holding the door open for me as though I am some kind of princess.

I stare up at Casa Butcher. It is hard to believe that the single-liner, brute and boxer, sex god, gym junky, rugby playing Max Butcher also has enough space in his talent toolbox to be. . . creative. I mean, that is what this is. He's an artist. My Max.

Ugh. What can't that man do?

Staring up at it as if for the first time, I take in the steep white walls lit up by external lights and the modernist shape and feel. It's impressive. Not one feature is overlooked; that man likes perfection. That man is perfection.

Grinning to myself, I wander up the steps and through the front door. A man, suited in all black and holding it open, smiles as I move past him.

I wave at him. "Hi."

The Butcher guards are very polite and conservative, almost as though they have very little personality, but I doubt that is the case. They are just professionals.

As I round the sleek black and white kitchen, I see the reflection of the television lights on the hallway walls. Knowing that means one of the boys is awake, I wander down the corridor.

If I thought for a second that Victoria or Butch might be sitting in front of that television, I wouldn't have dared to join them, but they are mostly out of town, at hotels or one of the other houses on their vast real estate portfolio. Despite that being unusual, I never thought too much about it. But right now, I do. I mean, it makes sense that she - Victoria - that vapid woman, would purposely keep Butch from his sons. She must get swallowed up by their presence.

When I see the relaxed, large, and gorgeous form of Bronson Butcher laying on the couch, watching The Bachelor, I laugh to myself. "I can't believe what I'm seeing."

"I know, it's so romantic." He feigns a coo, not moving a muscle.

Rounding the couch and sitting on the single recliner, I'm all of a sudden desperate to tell him he's going to be an uncle. Of course, I can't. Not until I tell Max that he's going to be a dad. Although Bronson is an enigma - both charming and easy going, and dark and unpredictable - he's also the one person I'm positive will be nothing but excited about this baby. It's the reaction I want.

Need.

He looks so much like Max and strangely, so very different. While Max is closed off, Bronson seems welcoming and daring. Max has black, white, and red tattoos. Bronson has vibrant designs covering almost every inch of his skin. I stare at his tattooed forearm where a purple clock and owl is etched into the surface.

Still unmoving, his hands tucked under his thick, strong biceps and his boots crossed up on the cushion, he says, "Did you know that Max named Xander?"

I pull my legs up, crossing them in front of me. "No."

He doesn't divert his eyes from the television. "Yeah. Mum couldn't be bothered. Personally, I wanted to name him Ned, after Ned Kelly. But Max wanted it to be Xander. His name has a loose translation - 'defender of men'. Max liked that idea at the age of five. We practically raised that kid together. Like emperor penguins, ya know? The guys all get together and look after their young."

Are we talking about babies? Can he read minds? My palms get moist, so I rub them on my legs. Bronson Butcher never ceases to amaze me to the point of near speechlessness. "Emperor penguins?" is all I manage to say.

"Yep." His bright, opal-blue eyes shift to me and he grins, his lips a tick of mischief. "They're really good fathers."

Oh my gawd. How does he know? I need an aluminium foil hat to stop him from infiltrating my thoughts. Or does that only work with aliens? Maybe some garlic? Or silver?

Focus, Cassidy.

My lungs begin to strain. "Does Max know?" I breathe hard.

When his eyes drop to my belly, his whole face smiles. "Know what? About emperor penguins? No. But I make it my business to know everything about them."

A laugh of relief bursts from me, but I have no idea why. Shaking my head, feeling tongue tied, I take in his beautiful, comforting presence. I don’t know how he knows. . . Ugh. Yes, I do. Carter. I frown at Bronson. "Carter told you?"

Grinning, he states, "He had to report it to one of us." I want to be mad, but I'm not. Because Bronson's smile fills my heart with the courage it needs to tell Max.

"Is Max in his room?"

"He's exhausted. Go easy on him."

Beaming from cheek to cheek, I stand to leave but stop abruptly. Peering back at Bronson still