Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Placing my elbows against the kitchen island, I studied her, waiting for an explanation for why she was here. Tierney arranged the food items on the other side of the island, extracting tiny ciabatta buns from a paper bag I hadn’t noticed before.
“Tiernan said you’re losing a bunch of weight. He wants the deal with the Camorra to be fruitful, so he asked that I make sure you eat. Don’t worry. I won’t force you.” She flashed me a smart-ass smile. “You’ll want to eat my Tunisian fricassee. It’s decadent.”
I noticed she had a tattoo running from the side of her neck to her shoulder.
Oderint Dum Metuant.
It looked faded, blue, and uneven. The kind of tattoo you’d get from an amateur in prison.
Tiernan had the exact same one, I realized. They probably got it together.
“My God, look at you.” She reached across the island, snatching my jaw between her black almond nails, angling my head left and right. “You’re breathtaking. You look like a younger Doutzen Kroes.”
I had no idea what she just said. Maybe I misread her lips. The sleep deprivation was really taking its toll on me.
Tierney continued chatting away, not letting the fact that I didn’t respond to her stop her or even slow her down.
“My secret ingredient is this.” She drummed her fingernails over a small glass jar with a red paste inside it. “Pilpelchuma instead of harissa. It’s a chili garlic paste. I think your Italian palate will appreciate it.” She winked, then went on to drain a tuna can and dump a few eggs and potatoes into boiling water. “Tiernan and I spent a few months in North Africa hiding from…oh, let’s call them eager friends.” She chopped parsley and red onion thinly. “We were in hiding, fourteen, and school wasn’t on the menu, so I had a lot of spare time to learn how to cook, ride, drive, survive.” She hitched a shoulder up. “We’ve become very good at surviving, by the way. In case you want to kill him.”
My brain screeched to a halt. Something didn’t add up. Before our nuptials, I oversaw Enzo and Luca discussing Tiernan. They said he lived in Ireland until he was fourteen, which was when his father moved him and his siblings to New York. No one mentioned anything about North Africa.
I knew next to nothing about my husband’s background. Shame Tierney couldn’t be trusted. I’d love to pick her brain.
“But enough about my glamorous life. What’s going on with you? How are you settling in?” Tierney licked the sharp knife in her hand, tongue lolling across the green-leafed edge. She slapped a generous amount of the red paste onto the now deep-fried bread. She then filled the bread with soft-boiled potatoes, tuna, sliced boiled egg, parsley, and prune-like black olives dripping oil. The sandwich overflowed.
She turned to face me, sighing at my stubborn silence. “You can trust me. I have no loyalty to T. Not since he let your cunt of a brother dictate my love life. Do you know Achilles makes me walk around with a chaperone to keep me from screwing people?”
I didn’t, but it sounded exactly like something Achilles would do. It did surprise me that he bothered in the first place. Unlike Luca and Enzo, Achilles never took an interest in another human seriously enough to make an effort.
I winced sympathetically. She caught the gesture, her pouty lips quirking to one corner slyly. “My day shift bodyguard is waiting outside the apartment right now. A Camorra soldier. Do you happen to know how to get rid of those?”
I almost shook my head. Almost. I’d never gotten rid of a bodyguard before. Never tried.
“So far, I’ve only managed to make their time with me miserable but not shake them off completely. I drag them for days-long shopping sprees and gossip sessions with the most boring socialites I know.” She plucked a spatula from a cabinet, pointing it at me. “I used to strip in front of them and make them watch. Drove them nuts. The entire exercise was to keep me from having sex with other men. So I blue-balled Achilles’s staff. I’m sure they told him, because they’re no longer permitted to enter my bedroom.” She stopped, beaming conspiratorially. “Or apartment, for that matter.”
She pressed the spatula to the top of the sandwich, locking all the juices and ingredients in. I rounded the island so I could stand next to her and see what she said.
“My brother is more toxic than a king cobra. Unfortunately, you can’t choose your family and metabolism, so this is what I have to work with. But I’m only loyal to myself. If you want to be friends, we can be friends. I’ll keep any secrets you have. And if you help me get rid of Achilles…” She trailed off. “We could help each other, you know? We women have to stick together. Especially in the chauvinistic underground world.”