Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
“Did he tell you who was making that claim?”
“Not a clue, but he was happy to show some cash. Luiz offered me half a million to help the cause. It sounded like some rebel bullshit. It was even stacked up in his house, but fuck, no. Like I told you, I’m not a fucking idiot. Russo has owned these streets long enough to know it is not going to be taken over without a bloodbath.” King shrugged. “Is that it? Is that all you want to hear? I just want the little piece of paradise I earned.”
The coffees came to the table, along with King’s grilled cheese. Massimo sat back, taking a sip of his coffee as King started on his grilled cheese.
This hadn’t exactly been helpful. All he knew now was that King wasn’t stupid to start a war with them. It would never be one he could win, but there were a lot of stupid people in the world. He just had to find one who was willing to ruin his life for the Mafia title.
****
“You know, I haven’t stepped foot inside here since my wife passed,” Vincent said.
Isabella had gone to lunch. Adelina had been given an invitation, but she hadn’t felt like leaving the house.
The room they had stepped into was Massimo’s mother’s studio. It was a large room at the back of the house. The windows had been covered by large, thick curtains. Vincent had pulled them away, and the room was that of an artist. There were a couple of easels set up, paintings along the floor, some stacked together.
There were open paints, and she guessed it looked exactly the same way when his wife had left it. The curtains must have drawn the night before she passed away.
No one had stepped foot inside the room.
There were some cobwebs in corners, and a thick layer of dust coated every surface. The windows also had stains on them from where it must have condensed and then dried. The sunshine cast an amazing glow across the room. The view of the gardens was breathtaking.
“My wife had great talent. There was a time she wanted to be an artist,” Vincent said. “But she was never going to be. She was my wife instead, and I promised her artwork would one day make an exhibition. I would arrange it myself.” He chuckled. “She never wanted that.”
“She didn’t?”
“No.” He shook his head. “All she ever wanted to do was paint for the pleasure of it. She never wanted people to criticize her work. You know?”
“I get it.”
Adelina stepped toward one of the paintings, and it was of two King Charles Spaniels. “Wow, they’re so lifelike.”
“They were the dogs my wife had when she was little. They passed away not long after we were married. It broke her heart, and mine. I was never a dog man, but those dogs, Ginger and Snaps, were good dogs. Fuck me, I miss them.”
She walked toward him and put a hand on his shoulder, then she actually hugged him, wrapping her arms around him, trying to offer comfort in the darkness of his mind.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You’re hurting.”
“Most women wouldn’t be able to stand being close to me.”
“You need to stop worrying,” Adelina said. “And I’m not most women.”
“You got that right.” He sighed. “I want to apologize.”
She pulled away, and he rubbed at his eyes. They were red as if he wanted to cry, but the tears hadn’t fallen yet.
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“When Massimo came to me and told me to make the arrangement to marry you, I was against it. I felt he could do better. Your family are not exactly well-liked.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“I thought you had manipulated him, but I see now that you and he have a friendship ... and love. It is a love that reminds me of my wife and I. Our marriage was arranged, but I loved her the moment I saw her.”
“Massimo doesn’t love me,” she said.
Vincent chuckled. “Oh, trust me, I know my boy, and he loves you. He just has a funny way of showing it. If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t have married you. He wouldn’t have cared what happened to you. You’d be married to that piece of shit. But I also know you love my son.”
She had already admitted her feelings to him. “I do.”
“Give it time, and you will see the way my boy feels about you.” He took a breath. “I never thought I would be able to come in here. Each time I came to that door, it was like the pressure and pain was too much. I should have been there to take that bullet. I had promised I would always take care of her.”
She put a hand on his arm and tried to stop him. “It’s not your fault.”