Tears Like Acid (Corsican Crime Lord #3) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Corsican Crime Lord Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
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He may be cruel when he hates someone as much as he loathes me, but he won’t destroy a beautiful house just for fun. Yes, deep down, he is a savage. His actions are as brutal as his personality. On the surface, however, he’s perfectly civilized, a man who behaves as society dictates if only for the sake of pretending to fit in.

His chuckle is dry. “Then you don’t know me very well, wife.”

He shakes me off and walks to the window, staring out at the night. I take in his broad back as I contemplate the statement. I know him better than he thinks. I know what motivates him. I know his family meant everything to him and that his hatred will drive him until his dying day. I know that I’ll be the bane who satisfies his quest for vengeance. I know that he’s my enemy, a man I despise as much as I once liked him.

The awful truth is that I crave his touch. The horrible reality is that I don’t think about what he did as much as I used to. Maybe it’s because I’m blocking the memory of the night he killed my dad from my mind. Maybe it’s because I’m trying not to think about it. The undeniable fact is that my body is still drawn to his. When he wraps his arms around me, it’s as if I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. It feels like home. That’s my worst punishment, my insufferable torture, because the safety I feel when he holds me is false.

“What a fucking mess,” he says, turning around. His voice hardens with resolve. “I’ll deal with it.”

“How?”

“There’s no need to worry yourself about the logistics. It’s not your problem.”

I go closer. “Sophie doesn’t want to go back to her great-grandfather. I don’t know him, but from what I’ve heard and seen, he’s incapable of taking care of them.”

“You’re right.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “All he cares about are his fucking chickens and his goats.”

“What about their parents? Sophie only told me they’re gone.”

Concern simmers in his eyes. “I tried to locate them, but I came up empty-handed. They’ve never been around much from what I understood, but shortly before I moved the old man and the kids here, they simply vanished. I have no idea if they just decided to pack up and leave or if they’re dead. I contacted every hospital and morgue in the country. I’ve got private investigators on the case. There’s no sign of them.”

“Where does that leave the kids?”

“With me,” he says, his smile flat.

“What do you mean?”

“They’ll have to move into the old house where I can keep an eye on them.”

My stomach clenches with worry. “How’s that going to work? Aren’t you always busy and often traveling?”

He utters a laugh. “I’ll have to hire a ton of tutors, not to mention guards to keep them in line.”

“You heard what Sophie said. You scared her. I’m not sure she’ll want to go with you. She thought you were angry with them.”

Impatience enters his tone. “Well, she doesn’t have a choice, does she?”

“Please don’t be hard on her. You’ll only push her away.”

“Are you telling me how to manage my own family?”

“I’m only trying to help.”

“Don’t.”

I blow out a sigh. “What about the legal red tape?”

“In the absence of the parents, the old man has guardianship.” He sneers. “If I pay him enough, he’ll sign it over to me.”

“When are you going to tell her?”

“Now,” he says, walking to the door.

“Hold on.” I wrap my fingers around his forearm. “Why don’t you let her stay with me? You saw for yourself. She’s at ease here.”

He works his jaw. “I already told you, it’s not your problem.” Taking my hand, he removes it from his arm before marching to the door.

“Think about it,” I say, going after him. “Don’t make this worse. She’s frightened enough as it is.”

He walks down the stairs with determined steps and stops in front of the sofa. Taking the remote, he switches off the television.

Sophie stills. Her small body goes rigid as she looks up at him.

“Sophie,” he says in a gentle voice. “It’s dangerous out there for a small girl alone. You’re coming back with me to live in my house.”

Her brown eyes grow round.

“It’s a big house with a garden and a swimming pool,” he continues. “There’s even a beach.”

She jumps to her feet, knocking the bowl with the popcorn to the floor. Clutching the doll in her hands, she looks ready to bolt.

“Sophie,” I say in a soothing tone. “Mr. Russo won’t hurt you. He has a very kind housekeeper who cooks delicious food.”

She sprints to me and jumps behind my back, locking her arms around my legs. “I’m not going. I don’t want to.”



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