Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“That’ll be easy. Half the fucking morons on the street are slobbering for revenge. The bastards bombed your damn wedding. You might not be the Don yet, but they all know who the real power is.”
“Keep an eye on Vittorio for me too.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“I don’t trust anyone. Including you.”
Frank laughs and pushes himself to his feet. “Heavy is the crown,” he mutters as he stubs out his cigar. He gives Bianca a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck with this one.”
He leaves me alone with my sister. She gives me a look as she fixes herself a drink. “What a mess.”
“No kidding.”
“Cleanup is going to be a nightmare.”
“And it’s not over.” I give her a meaningful look. “How’s my wife?”
“You should go check on her.”
“I have too much work to do right now.”
Bianca nods slightly and looks like she wants to argue, but she holds her tongue for once. Instead, she heads out, promising to peek in at Lucy for me.
I stay in my office. The phone starts ringing, and soon the calls come in like a flood. I spend my wedding night chained to my fucking desk, preparing for blood.
Chapter 12
Lucy
Ialmost forget where I am. Unfamiliar light streams through strange windows and sends shadows across a ceiling I’ve never seen before.
Then the dreams come back. A building shaking, women screaming, men shoving me along.
Slowly, I sit up in bed and look around at Adriano’s room.
It all happened. The car bomb, the fire. Adriano hurrying me out of there like I was the only person in the world that mattered. Then later, taking a shower, putting on strange clothes that are just a little bit too tight. Kennedy’s text, saying she’s alright, thanks to Adriano’s men. Grandmother’s ominous silence. But I’m sure she’s fine too. I doubt I’m lucky enough for her to have died in that attack.
The bed beside me is cold and untouched.
Adriano slept somewhere else last night.
I get up and use the bathroom. I’m in a pair of tight sweats and a little t-shirt that clings to my breasts. Bianca is a size smaller than me, and her stuff just barely fits.
It occurs to me, almost as an afterthought, that I’m married.
After cleaning up, I step out into the hallway. The massive house is silent. It’s an old mansion deep in the heart of South Philadelphia, in an area Grandmother would’ve called Italian trash. From the glimpse I got on the outside, it takes up nearly this whole block and is set back from the sidewalks by a tall fence with modern security features like cameras and electronic gates.
I should be safe here.
But safe from whom?
Not sure what else to do, I go looking for my husband. I make it down the stairs when I almost run right into an older woman carrying a big laundry bag filled with clothes. She lets out a surprised grunt, and I apologize a billion times when she drops it all on the floor.
“No, no, it’s my fault. I’m not watching where I’m going.”
I get down and help her pick things up. I shove men’s clothing back into the bag. “Sorry, I should’ve been louder. I just don’t know where I’m going, honestly.”
The woman stops and stares at me. She’s got dark hair and dark eyes with little smile crinkles around her eyes. “You’re Adriano’s wife.”
“Lucy,” I say, shoving a pair of underwear away.
“My name’s Donatella. I’m Adriano’s father’s aide. My, you really are pretty. Lucky Adriano. And here he was, worried about the whole arrangement. Seems to have worked out nicely for him.”
I blush a little, not sure how to take that. “He was worried?”
“That man worries about everything, not that he’ll ever let you know it. Thank you for helping, dear.” She hefts the bag up.
“Do you know where he is right now?”
“In his office, I’d expect. If you’re hungry, head into the kitchen. I can come by and fix you something if you’d like.”
“No, that’s totally okay. You don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense. I more or less manage the house these days.” She sighs and looks back over her shoulder. “Not much I can do about poor Salvatore, except keep him company. He sleeps most of the day away.”
“I’ll just go find Adriano.”
“Suit yourself. Come to the kitchen when you like.” She gives me directions to Adriano’s office, shoots me a warm smile, and walks off.
I watch her go, happy that at least one person in this strange house seems nice enough. I walk down a few more halls, staring at the opulence and the sheer display of wealth around me. I’m from a well-off family, but even I find this place a little over the top. Grandmother would be losing her mind. She’d scowl at everything and make these little clucking noises like a judgmental hen. I can even hear her now: tacky people build tacky things.