Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Adriano leans forward. “The Westbrook family is looking for a new business partner. We were discussing terms before you came in here.”
I look between the two men. These are powerful bastards used to getting their way. Definitely used to making men like me do their bidding. Typically, I’d walk out of here with orders to murder some poor fuck. Which wouldn’t be so bad.
But this is definitely going to be worse.
“What do I have to do with that?”
Adriano holds my stare. The Don’s a hard man. Even with bad news about to drop on my skull like a hammer, he’s not shying away. I respect that about him. “I need you to marry Charlie.”
Well, shit.
I did not expect that.
Some dirty job, sure. Maybe a little flagellation, a little penance for my sins.
But marriage?
I shake my head. “No.”
“You don’t understand, Stefano.” Harrison smoothly takes over. “We want to ensure our business arrangement is permanent and ironclad. Since you already sullied my granddaughter—”
“Didn’t sully shit,” I grunt at him.
The old man leans back. “You didn’t sleep with her?”
“Oh, no, I definitely did. But I didn’t sully her.”
“You know what he’s saying.” Adriano sounds more tired than annoyed. “The point is, you have a relationship with her. Which means you’re going to marry her. That’s not a question. From here on out, you are officially made a Caporegime. Congratulations. You will walk down the aisle with Charlie Westbrook and bridge our two organizations. That’s an order.”
I consider my Don for a moment. A part of me wants to refuse him. I’m not the marrying type. Who would want me for a husband? All I know is fighting. My body’s full of wounds and aches. I’m no good for anyone.
Just an old sinner hating the world but still desperate for that next violent fix.
But I don’t answer right away.
Because now I’m thinking about Charlie and our night together. How beautiful she looked, down on her knees, and how good it felt pulling her into my arms. I experienced something that night that I haven’t in a very long time.
I was alive. Outside the fighting ring.
Deep between Charlie’s legs, I could breathe again. The storm in me was silent. The deep obsession with violence went quiet.
There was only me and her.
Now they’re offering me the chance to see if that wasn’t just a one-time thing.
Just got to walk down the aisle with the poor girl.
“I can’t do it,” I say, throwing down the drink. It burns as it hits my belly. My knees crack as I get to my feet.
Adriano’s face is set in a cold stare. He doesn’t get mad, not like some other men in his position might. No, Adriano only calculates and then applies the right amount of pressure needed to get his way.
“This is an order from your Don. I assume you don’t need me to make threats. You know how this works.”
“Be smart here,” Harrison adds. “Charlie will make a good wife, and imagine the opportunities you’ll have as a member of my family.” He smiles at me, slimy and smooth. I suspect I won’t enjoy being anywhere near the brood of vicious snakes he calls family.
“I apologize, Don Adriano, but I’m turning down the promotion. I respectfully decline your offer to become a Caporegime.”
That surprises him. Adriano sits back, eyebrows turned low in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“The Capo life isn’t for me.” I turn away from the two powerful men. “But I’ll marry the girl. That might be alright.”
I limp toward the door as Adriano laughs. I figured he’d find that amusing. Harrison seems more confused than anything else, but that’s fine.The old bastard wouldn’t get it anyway.
Adriano knows though. He understands the sort of man I am.
I’d wilt as a Capo. Too much responsibility. That’s not my style.
But marrying the girl?
That might be fun.
Chapter 7
Charlie
There are things I’m supposed to do. Like riding horses. I’m a rich girl, my grandfather invested in a stable, and all that means I’m supposed to be into equestrian stuff.
But I hate it. Horses smell bad and half the time they’re one surprising sneeze away from kicking your face into a paste.
I’m supposed to go shopping. I have Daddy’s money, so why not spend it on fancy consumer goods?
But designer clothes are boring. All they do is sit in my closet until I put them on my body. Then I forget about them again.
These activities are expected of a girl like me, and I still hate them.
I’m good at pretending though. I can smile all day long, talk about magazines and saddles, compare heels and breeds with the best of them, all the while absolutely hating every second of it.
That’s why it only takes three nights before I go slinking back to the warehouse.
I can only hide behind stable doors and dressing room curtains for so long. Eventually, I need to go back to reality.