Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Salvatore Gallo never wanted to be a made man, but what one wants and what they must do are rarely the same thing. So, he made a deal with the devil that left him paying for decades—one tragedy after another.
Nico Russo's entire personality has been shaped by surviving one moment to the next. With a father who would rather he bleed than breathe, finding a way to make it through the day is business as usual.
A lie told a decade ago changed all their lives forever.
Made in Love and Blood opens a dark contemporary crime-family saga about inherited violence, what love and loyalty mean, and the terrifying truth of being fully known. Nothing stays buried forever
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Francesca’s favorite thing to do at parties?
Hide under tables.
There with a big cup filled with sugary something, she set herself up for a quiet evening. And there, under the freshly starched tablecloths without crinkles and stains, she could hear things.
Lots of things.
Nobody seemed to understand that she only wanted to be close to her father. It wasn’t about hearing things she shouldn’t. He was the only man in the room that made her feel safe.
There were a lot of those, too—other men. Their laughter roared harder and longer the later the evenings went on, and their opinions became louder after the wine switched to something harder.
The click-clack of familiar heels hitting marble reached Frankie before the shrill voice of her stepmother started. Just the woman’s stilettos stomping across the floor or down a flight of steps could send her running, but she couldn’t do that now.
“She’s gone off again, Sal. I am tired of this shit.”
Salvatore’s soft chuckle eased the sudden tension that had coiled itself around his daughter. They had a deal, him and her. She didn’t have to listen to Carina with him and Sissy around.
Plus, bruises made Sal angry, and Carina left a few of those. The last ones faded a while ago and none had been left since. Miss Sissy made sure of that. Frankie ended up getting a puppy out of the deal. It worked out.
“You just think it’s so funny, don’t you?” Carina hissed. “You let that little brat do whatever the hell she wants to do whenever she feels like doing it, and then when I have to look after—”
“And how often does that happen lately?” Salvatore interrupted.
“That’s not the point!”
The smooth drawl of her father sharpened instantly in a way he didn’t use with Frankie. “Could you lower your fuckin’ voice? The last thing I need is the boss hearing you run off at the mouth again. I am so goddamn tired of making excuses for you, Carina. Considering he’s the only reason why I’m in this damn mess with you, I know he’s sick of it, too.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have to raise my voice to get you to listen if you would just make that little bitch—”
Something hit the small table where Frankie hid with enough force for the glasses on top to clatter. A harsh gasp melted in with the scuff of shoes against marble. The eight-year-old could now see the heels of stilettos and the toes of leather loafers peeking beneath the tablecloth.
“She’s the only way I rile you up anymore,” Carina whispered.
There was something soft in her voice. Like the way Miss Sissy sounded when she spoke to babies and toddlers on their trips to the park. Frankie asked about it once, and the nanny called it a coo, but it didn’t sound the same now and it made her a little sick.
“Don’t start,” her father warned.
“So, we’ll get back to this later, then?”
“The one benefit of this fuckin’ sham between you and I is the later.” The shoes moved away from the table and Frankie’s bent knees relaxed. “I’ll find my daughter. You don’t go looking. Do you hear me, Carina? Capisce?”
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”
“And don’t come telling me when you’re ready to leave, either. I’ll find you.”
“Mmhmm. You forget I used to live in this fucking house, Sal. I know the boss’s rules.”
“Still think they found you in a dumpster and not at the church,” Salvatore grumbled. “Makes so much more sense.”
Her stepmother must have already been too far away to hear the comment as nothing vicious returned. Her departure brought instant relief for Francesca right along with a new pain. She crossed her legs and held her tummy to keep from peeing on the spot. She only needed to peek at the now-empty cup of her favorite soda sitting to her left to know why.
Salvatore knew Frankie liked to hide at parties. He had even developed a way to call for her without it becoming obvious to others what he was doing. The low whistle of You Are My Sunshine crawled under the table and promised her safety if she just came out. But she didn’t.
The soft squeak of Salvatore’s loafers, and the whistle, inched away.
After the other voices in the room also seemed to move to another space, Francesca still sat with her legs crossed. She rocked back and forth slightly to ease the pressure down below. It didn’t help. Now she wished she had come out for her father’s whistle.
“Hey, don’t you know people are looking for you?”
Francesca didn’t know what did it—the sudden voice, the way she jerked backward when light spilled under the table, or the piercing green gaze of the boy scowling at her from where he lifted the tablecloth. Either way, there went her pee.
On the floor, soaking into the crinoline and silk of a brand-new dress, and it even got in her shoes. There was no hiding the way the liquid pooled out beyond her skirt, or the tears that instantly welled in her wide eyes.