ena

er nails biting into my fle

ried, her voice a weapon of practiced manipulation. "If

ash for my neck, to hand the e

ked a

ndless dance across the screen, utterly detached from th

and unconcerned, opened a

to an inferno; my mother had seized Leo's hand and fled, leaving me

ng in the *Famiglia* sweatshops

g cold and hard, I wrenc

pawn on their b

om and pulled a battered du

ed my few item

r, my fingers brushed aga

copy of *

en it to me t

through my adolescent defenses. "See how

t of light in the suffoca

bag as if it were a holy

he apartment with

y guarded *Famiglia* safehouse de

e gray walls and a single cot, but it possesse

s department. Those years buried in PR had taught me more than press releases. I had memorized every financial repor

d me a heavy DSLR cam

profile and photographs of the new Chie

the top floor, a knot of cold

floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panor

, I

g behind a massi

hollow of my collarbone with the precision of a

a low vibration that seemed to travel up my spine. "N

bled as I lif

urally loud in the quiet room. The flash illuminated the un

he lens, his unwavering scrut

een, he studied the captured images, the corner of

his leather chair, h

on at the club this weekend," he said, his

my knuckles strainin

through a tight throat. "I ha

f authority evaporating, replace

ween us until the scent of expensive cologne, a clean

e turned

rable height, he named my decade of

a razor against my skin. "Tell me, why do y