The Camorra's Fallen Rook

Chapter Twenty-Seven Tom

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tom

I stared down at his sleeping figure.

This beautiful boy tangled in satin sheets.

A quiescent weapon, somewhere between lethal and serene.

A man who had killed and tortured many, yet slept so soundly, so sweetly, it was obvious he operated under his own moral construct. I had the dignity to call a spade a spade—and a psychopath a psychopath.

Enzo Ferrante’s charm had fooled the entire world, but I knew exactly who he was.

So why was I still falling for him?