Charmed Read Free

the peak of Corcovado Mountain the ninety-eight-foot-tall statue towered over the city, a symbol of Brazilian Christianity. Dotted on the mountain slopes were the favelas, the slums ruled by drug lords. The crime and violence of Rio was juxtaposed with the vibrancy of nature surrounding the city, and the generous, friendly nature of the Brazilians. It was truly one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and to Adam it was home.
    Winding out of the city and toward the family home, Adam realized how much he missed his mother and sister. Despite the circumstances, he’d be glad to see them. It hadn’t been that long, as he’d been home to visit at Christmas. Fondly, he remembered being with them, attending a performance of Los Pastores (“The Shepherds” in English) depicting the Nativity. They’d attended midnight mass at church. Later, they’d enjoyed a Christmas day meal of turkey, chicken, ham, rice, beans, and mashed potatoes, followed by fresh and dried fruits.
    Adam spotted the low, ranch-style house hidden among the trees. The pale, rose-colored brick and clay-tiled roof structure was inviting. Many of the inhabitants of the city were apartment dwellers, and Adam was pleased his family resided in the same home he grew up in. It was more comfortable, but more importantly, it was safer. The trust fund he’d set up for his mother and sister took care of their needs. He was amenable to providing for them, but ensured the funds were untouchable by any other.
    Pulling up the driveway, Miguel parked and stayed with the car while Adam went to the house. Nico Moretti, his personal bodyguard, stood outside, his imposing figure a warning to any that thought to harm the family. Strong, standing six feet and one hundred ninety pounds of solid muscle, no casual criminal would defy him. Nico was striking, with his deep brown hair, sharp features, and steely gray eyes. Solidly built and trained in the art of protection, he was like a wall between criminals and those he protected.
    “Ola,” Adam greeted him, saying a few words in Portuguese, patting his shoulder, and heading for the front door. Other guards were strategically scattered in the trees. Times had not been good recently. If he hadn’t known before, Adam knew then that he was needed at home. No matter that he could afford to pay for security—there were some things he must tend to personally.
    Serena, his mother, rushed to him the moment he stepped inside. He noticed the bandage across her right cheek just before she hugged him with all her might. “Adamo…Adamo,” she cried, using his Italian name.
    He hugged her tightly. “Mamma… Lo sono qui… Lo sono qui,” he said, reassuring her that he was really home by repeating, “I’m here…I’m here” in Italian. His mother cried from the joy of having him home, and also from the comfort having him near provided. Things hadn’t been easy for her.
    On the other side of the room, Adam saw Fiorella patiently waiting, as lovely as ever. Her light, reddish-brown hair waved softly, her light green eyes glistening. “Fiy-owREY-Laa,” he said, pronouncing her Italian name. “Il mio piccolo fiorellino,” he said, calling her “my little flower,” as the Italian name, Fiorella, meant little flower.
    And a flower she was, a natural beauty, about five feet three inches, small boned and delicate. Her pleasant smile radiated across the room, and Adam smiled back, still hugging his mother, who was not willing to let him go. With his arm still around her, he walked toward his sister, who flew into his arms.
    “You’re home,” she said. “You’re home with us.”
    “Yes, for a while,” Adam assured her.
    Serena stepped back to get a better look at her son. She motioned for him to sit down, anxious to talk and hear about everything in California. In her early forties, she was alluring with her thick dark hair, large dark eyes, and classic bone structure. Originally from Naples, she had the darker features of