Remo Falcone személy

“You are safe in your weakest moments, Angel. I don’t enjoy breaking the weak. I will break you when you are strong.”

He grabbed the knife and turned around, presenting his back to me. My eyes traced the tattoo of the kneeling fallen angel. Was that how Remo saw himself? A fallen angel with broken wings? A dark angel risen from Hell?

Vigyázat! Felnőtt tartalom.

“Considering that you got into the bitch’s pants, you’re in a shitty mood,” Savio said.
Remo’s face flashed with anger.
“That’s the fucking last time you call her bitch, got it?”

“We have to save them,” I rasped. “Help me save them.”
Remo gripped the back of my head and hugged me.
“You’ll never have to ask me for something like that. Never. We will save them, and if anyone burns today, it’ll be us.”

“Greta doesn’t need to marry to be a queen. Only by existing, she’s shining brighter than most ever will.”

Steps sounded. Heavy, male steps.
“You better be a burglar because if this is who I think it is, I’m going to have to kick his ass for another solo run,” Dad muttered.

Remo tilted his head. “In the past, the king had the right of the first night.”
“Ius primae noctis.”
“Maybe I should establish something like that in Vegas.” Remo chuckled, his eyes scanning the crowd for suitable women. “Bring all your virgins so I can break them.”

Remo narrowed his eyes at Dad. “Many would call it barbaric to get off on virgin blood covered sheets.”
I gritted my teeth and sought Matteo’s eyes in the mirror, trying to give him a silent sign to remove those two from the room, or at least Remo.
Dad smirked. “I’m half tempted to call Dante so he can tell us how kindly he took your presentation of the sheets of your first night with Serafina.”
“At least I presented real sheets.”