Sweet Surrender: A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (King's Trace Antiheroes Book 1) by Sav R. Miller

Author:Sav R. Miller [Miller, Sav R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-01T05:00:00+00:00

MY MOTHER SIPS from her spoon as Leo refills her wineglass—Screaming Eagle Cabernet Napa, 1995, which she brought as a wedding present and decided to drink anyway. Her hair sits twisted in a tight bun on top of her head, a string of pearls clasped around her recently-botoxed neck.

Elia’s stayed true to his word, at least about two of the issues with having my family in our home; my father hasn’t spared me a single glance, instead opting to talk to my father-in-law about the state of Maine’s pension fund. Benito flanks my sister’s side, even as she sits at the table, eating like the rest of us, his eyes trained on her.

It won’t surprise me if she ends up dragging him off to an empty bathroom before the night’s over. For all the sadness she seems to collect, she’s never been one to turn down a quickie.

So far, we’ve broached the subject of my future, which is nonexistent at this point; it’s hard to make plans when you have no idea what’s going to happen in the next few months. Still, I’ve expressed my love for baking to Orlando, Elia’s father, who regaled me with a story about Elia’s mother and the scones she used to make for them.

The story very clearly made Elia uncomfortable, so when my father requested the elder Montalto’s attention, I let him have it.

Even if I do want to know more about his mother, I shouldn’t.

I push my soup around with the butt of my garlic bread, unable to eat. My stomach churns, a violent storm I’m trying to tame.

Elia reaches for a saltshaker, his hand brushing mine as he leans over. “Doing okay over there?”

Nodding, I switch to my spoon, ladling soup broth and then dumping it back into the bowl. “Feeling a little sick is all.”

“Do you need something? Anti-nausea medicine? Water?” He waves to Leo, requesting a glass with ice.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Our conversation is hushed, meant not to draw attention. “I was rude to you upstairs.”

“I’m a Montalto; we have thick skin, carina.”

Leo returns with a glass, a blank expression on his face as he pours from the stainless-steel pitcher at the center of the massive dining table. I take it, bowing my head gratefully as he returns to the other side of the room, and gulp down a big sip. It glides down, icy and shocking to my core, and I welcome the distraction.

“And,” Elia continues, his lips curving against my ear, “I won’t lie and say I don’t like it when you’re rude to me. I told you long ago; your mouth is my favorite part about you. I’m excited to see what else you’re capable of.”

The water stills in my throat, choking me, and I sputter some of it up into my hand. He reaches over and rubs my back in a fluid, soothing gesture, while my father glances over at me for the first time since he’s been here.

“Don’t mind my wife.

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