Thin Lives (Donati Bloodlines #3) by Bethany-Kris Read Free Book Online Page B

Affonso the chance to do that to him before his accident, but he was left vulnerable and weak without his memories and the truth.
    Calisto had to depend on those around him to fill in the blanks, and point him in the right direction. The one person he trusted above everyone else was the same man who would probably kill him just for remembering it all.
    It killed her.
    But Emma walked out of the office, tears in her eyes and a sob already catching in her throat, and closed the door behind her. Calisto had to remember on his own—he had to do it without her help, because if Affonso caught her doing what he had forbade, it would all end terribly.
    Everything.
    Their lives.
    The love.
    Her world.
    Emma had to let Calisto do it on his own. Her hands were tied.
    What else could she do?

 
    Calisto
     
    “Took you long enough, Donati.”
    Calisto shot his sparring partner a grin as he let the gym worker tape his hands up properly. “Best I could do on a last minute call, Gio. Next time, give me some more time to get out of shit.”
    Giovanni bounced on his heels, slapping his hands together from the other side of the cage. “I wondered when you were going to be back up on your feet and ready for another go in the cage with me.”
    “Been a rough few months.”
    “So I heard. Sorry about that, amico .”
    Friend .
    The softer tone of Gio’s words weren’t lost on Calisto, but he let them be said without much of a response. Giovanni Marcello wasn’t the kind of man who was openly affectionate, even with friends. Frankly, no man in their business was.
    Gio belonged to a fellow New York family, the long-reigning Marcellos, actually. His older brother was the Don of the family, and the most powerful man who sat at the Commission table once a year when all the major crime syndicates got together to chat about territory, business, and issues.
    Usually, men from different families didn’t mingle. That’s just how Cosa Nostra worked. Calisto had his own shit to handle being Affonso’s consigliere, and Gio had his thing to handle being who he was in his family.
    But the two had been friends for a long time—about a decade.
    Calisto didn’t see the problem with meeting up every once in a blue moon to shoot the shit with Gio, and pass a few punches in the cage. If anything, it helped to keep the peace between their families and on the streets of New York, given that there was a camaraderie and an old friendship there.
    That was good for business.
    With his hands taped up properly, Calisto turned to face his old friend. A mouth guard dangled from Gio’s fingertips. The gym worker passed a new one to Calisto before he left the cage.
    “Heard your head is kind of scrambled,” Gio said, smirking just a little.
    Calisto couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”
    “How would you say it?”
    “Two and a half years of blackness.”
    Gio lifted a brow. “Completely?”
    Calisto shrugged, wishing the weight on his shoulders would leave. “Basically.”
    “Shit. That’s …”
    “Rough?” Calisto supplied.
    “I guess that’s a good enough word as any. Are you sure you’re supposed to be sharing punches with your head and all?”
    “Exercise is healthy. This is exercise.”
    Gio shook his head, chuckling. “Not what I asked.”
    “I just …” Calisto trailed off, scowling as he glanced around the gym and the people watching. He hadn’t even known about the place when Gio called him earlier in the day, asking if he could meet up. But apparently, according to Gio, he and Calisto had been coming to this gym for nearly two years at least a couple of times a month if they could spare the time.
    “Spit it out,” Gio demanded.
    “I want to feel normal for five minutes. I haven’t felt okay in a long while.”
    Gio quieted for a stretch of time before he said, “Getting your ass kicked feels normal to you?”
    Maybe.
    Calisto couldn’t really explain it, but despite how he didn’t know the gym or the cage,