Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Calm down. Gio asked me to come. Let me in himself.”
I frowned at that for multiple reasons. The main one being that Gio was actually here. I’d seen no trace of him.
“Like what you’ve done with the place, by the way. The odor d’bonfire really brings that rustic vibe.” A smirk cut over his lips. “Not sure Gio’s thrilled.”
I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. “He’s still mad then?” Mad might have been an understatement. The man had tied me to a bed.
“He’s an uptight bastard, but he’ll forget all about it soon.” I wasn’t sure either of us was forgetting last night anytime soon. My wounded lip throbbed at the memory. “He’s gone out, anyway.”
“And you’re here to babysit.” I hadn’t thought about the fact that if I failed in my attempt, then my security would get even tighter. Dammit. I could feel that noose tightening.
“Just stopping you burning yourself alive, that’s all.” He took a seat on the couch beside me, then placed the plastic bag down between us. “That’s for you.”
I frowned as I took it, peering inside at the sketchbook and pack of art pencils. It was just paper and pencils, but for some reason, a wave of emotion rose, a lump forming in my throat.
“You bought this? For me?”
“Gio asked me to get it.” That was…nice of him.
“Thank you.” I told myself I was grateful to Tommy for getting the stuff. Not to Giovanni for noticing anything about me or making the request. It was hard not to be a little bit grateful, though.
“Just try not to shank me with a pencil.” He smirked, leaning back on the couch.
“I probably should.” I laughed. “You know, escape before he hands me back to my family.” I was half-joking, but I sure as hell was not begging him to marry me, so… half not.
The smile fell from Tommy’s face. “Would marrying Gio really be so bad? He’s not a horrible guy, you know. He used to be the moral one.”
A horn blared in the distance, cutting through the slice of peace up here. “What happened?”
“Life. Reality. No one can sit on the throne without being willing to spill a lot of blood,” he murmured, and I hated that the easy smile was now nowhere to be seen. I felt like I’d stolen his joy. “Your family is no different, Emilia.”
“I know.” I didn’t know first hand, but I knew what they did.
“But Gio would never hurt one of his own. He’s loyal.”
I turned away from him, glancing over Giovanni’s city, his empire. “Why are you saying this?”
“I think you could be good for him.” I met his gaze once more. “And I think your family is despicable for trying to kill you.”
It wasn’t them, though. It was Matteo. The very man I’d end up with. I’d been trying to ignore that fact, telling myself I would escape, but what if I couldn’t? I didn’t want to talk about this.
“How is Renzo?” I asked because I knew Tommy had been with him. I held my breath, fully expecting him not to tell me anything.
“Good. He’s up and moving. Our doc did a pretty good job of putting him back together.”
I released the breath, my shoulders relaxing with it. “What’s going to happen to him, Tommy?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t make those kinds of decisions, and I don’t want to give you false hope.”
My heart plummeted in my chest, and his hand gripped my arm.
“But I will say that Gio doesn’t harm anyone unless it serves a purpose, and I can’t see what purpose that would serve.”
I could. He knew Renzo was my weak spot. Giovanni had made it very clear he wanted me to marry him with the premise of willingness. He hadn’t directly threatened Renzo, but I’d come to expect the worst because anything less was just stupid.
_____
A couple of hours later and I came to the annoying realization that I liked Tommy. He was charming and funny and made me smile far too easily. But I didn’t want to like the guy who had once put a gun to my brother’s head, no matter if it was “just business.” I didn’t want to like anyone or anything attached to Giovanni’s life.
He checked his watch and pushed to his feet. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
“I think there’s food—”
“Please, Gio doesn’t have junk food.”
“Okay….”
“His version of dirty food is pasta and only because it’s his nostalgic guilty pleasure.” He started toward the door. “Tell me you don’t just want a bag of chips or a soda.”
Now that he mentioned it, I did. Even the take-out that I’d refused to eat was kind of healthy. Salads, subs, sushi. Giovanni didn’t get those perfect abs on just pasta, that was for sure. “Maybe.”
“Come on then.”
I followed him down the stairs, fully expecting him to order from somewhere. When he headed for the front door, I paused. “Wait. You’re taking me outside?” A bolt of excitement shot through me, but I glanced down at Gio’s dress shirt I was wearing. “Like this?”