Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Am I usually nervous?”
She laughs, adjusting her weight to her left hip. Looking pretty in a red dress, she opted for flat black shoes. I would think short stuff would like a little height, but it’s sexy that she doesn’t feel the need to compete. With a tilt of her head, she replies, “No. Not usually.”
“Are you nervous?”
“I’m . . .” She glances off into the distance as if the answer will be found out there. “Optimistic.”
“Optimism is good. So is this dress on you. You look pretty, Sass.”
She smiles, lighting my world on fire. “Thank you.” When she takes the hand I offer again, I’m beginning to think she needs it more than I do. I can only imagine how she thinks she’s going to pull off these shenanigans once her family gets involved. While we wait for the next opportunity to cross, her eyes are set on the restaurant. “We don’t have to stay for dessert.” Peeking up at me, she says, “We can leave any time you’re ready.”
“Got it. We’ve got an out.”
“It’s not an out. It’s an option.”
“Okay.” The crosswalk sign begins to buzz. We step off the curb and cross. “We have options.” Trying to get some semblance of knowledge before I walk into this lion’s den, I ask, “My amnesia has made me bad with names. I need a quick refresher.”
Stopping in front of the window, she’s still holding my hand when she turns to me. “Pamela is my mom. Anthony, my dad. Joe is my oldest brother, and Lorenzo is every bit the middle child.”
“So you’re the youngest?” As her “husband,” I should know these things. But as the guy who she’s now sleeping with, I actually do want to get to know her.
“I’m the youngest.” Why does this not surprise me? Placement in the sibling lineup determines everything from personality to how much they get away with. Being the only girl only complicates matters more. Toss in a big Italian family, and I’m screwed. My usual charms won’t work on them. Listening more than speaking will be my friend this evening. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” That’s not saying much.
I hold the door for her, the smell of garlic and home cooking escaping through the opening as she walks in with me behind her. She reaches back with her hand, so I take it as she says hi to the hostess and weaves through tables toward the back.
“Delly bean,” a woman who mirrors Sass’s features—hair color and the same blue eyes—but older, slides out from a large red vinyl booth in the back corner. My hand is released as Delaney hurries into her open arms. I think it’s safe to assume this is Pamela.
Her father is easy to pick out from the lineup of other faces. One by one, the three men slide out to wait their turn to greet Delaney. There’s a lot of love to share between them. Even her brothers hug her, though I catch the way they both have a straight face when they eye me over her shoulder.
I’m fucked.
Although this is where things should fall apart for her, she turns to me and waves me off like I’m an old hand here. “Warner.” Smooth.
They’re staring at me like they’re missing a piece of the puzzle. Me too, Bayetti family. Me too.
Her mom captures my face in her hands just to get a good look at me. “So handsome.” She pulls me to her and embraces me in a hold that doesn’t leave much room to escape.
“Thanks, Pamela.”
“Call me Mom.” Releasing me like she got burned by the hot potato, she says, “Say hello to the others.” She slides back into the booth with Delaney sliding in after her.
“Oh, okay. Yeah, of course.”
One of the brothers looks me over and asks, “You look like a money guy. You have a man on the inside?”
“On the inside of what?” Clearly not Sass’s plan.
He slaps the back of his hand against my chest and laughs. “Business.”
Not what I was expecting, but not a topic I’m opposed to. Unless he’s trying to sell me something, which I’m getting the distinct impression he is. “I have a few. Are you in finance?”
“Top of my class over at NYU.”
“Ah, Stern School of Business. Impressive. I’m a Harvard man myself.”
The smile disappears as if I crushed his dreams. “Well, if you need a guy—”
“I know who to call, Joe.” Taking a wild guess paid off. He steps aside and then disappears into the back of the restaurant, leaving me to face Lorenzo on my own. I can already tell by the crossed arms and narrowed eyes that I’m about to get a talking-to or maybe a threat. Potentially both.
“Warner, huh?”
I hold out my hand. “Warner Landers.”
“Yeah, I know.” Okaaay. “You’re finally showing your face around here.”