Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“My hell, you truly are sexist.” She clicks her tongue. “Can’t say I’m shocked, but you really are dense and stupid for a person who claims to be the most cunning and intelligent man in our world.”
“Waving the white flag clearly isn’t the case this morning, so what version of you am I getting today, Emelia? The cocky, snippy one, or the tolerable one who graced me with her presence last night at dinner with less hostility?” I lift my brows and wait for her to respond.
“Same question for you. Am I going to get the hotheaded, sexist, controlling megalomaniac?”
I tilt my head back, look to the ceiling to somehow find clarity in the woodgrain, and ignore her question. I see her in my peripherals, watching me, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of even a glare, grunt, growl, or spark of male rage.
And as if the gods heard my silent plea for control, they send me a distraction. My phone rings, and Giulio’s name comes up.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Boss. The new shipment of drugs came in. It was fake. The seller sent it, but somewhere in transit, it was switched.”
“What the fuck, Giulio!” I slam my fist on the table, causing Emelia to jump. What the hell is happening in my outfit?
“I know, sir. I'm doing my best to find out who keeps interfering. I have Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York under watch, and so far they’ve been minding their own business. No interference.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Being so far from home makes me that much more enraged.
“Clearly your best is not enough. You are the underboss. You are supposed to be performing at my level when I’m not there. Do I need to come home and do your job and mine?” I yell.
“No. No, sir. I will get to the bottom of this.”
“You said that yesterday.” I slide my chair back and head out on the deck.
“How much money did we lose on this?”
“Sir,” he tries to defer, warning me with as much respect as he can.
“How much!”
“Over a million with the guns and the drugs.”
“I want a meeting set up first thing when I get back. All bosses. Someone is fucking with my goddamn business, Giulio, and I want to look each son of a bitch in the eyes and see who fucking bluffs.” I watch the crew arriving with the boat that will take us ashore, and I look over my shoulder at Emelia.
“Keep an eye on the Notellis. Something tells me they know something or have a hand in this.”
“Him marrying off his daughter to you doesn't kick him off your radar?” Giulio asks.
“I told you earlier. I find it interesting that this all began when I made the arrangement to marry his daughter. This could have been a stealth attack and not a fucking alliance.”
“Will do, sir.” He stops then, and I know something clicked in his head.
I don’t even give him a goodbye. I end the call and make my way back toward the bedroom, passing Emelia without a word.
“Rough day at the office?” She comes in a few moments after me as I pull out my clothes.
“Every day is a rough day, Emelia.” I pause for a second and eye her over as she starts to pick her outfit. My anger starts to mold into something deeper, like it’s searching for an outlet, and before I can stop myself, I’m on her, my hand gripping her neck with enough force to keep her still and show her my authority.
“Nico!” she gasps.
“You listen to me, and you better not lie to me, Emelia. I would hate for you to end up being a newlywed who didn’t even make it through her honeymoon.”
She gulps, and I feel it against the palm of my hand. Her eyes widen, and this is the first time I see true fear there. It's not the kind I saw when I nearly killed her pathetic ex.
“You think hard about this, wife. And I mean really hard and pick your next words wisely.”
She claws at my hands, and a tear falls, so I loosen my grip. It's not my touch causing her tears though; it's the fear of God in my eyes burning into hers.
“Wh-What?” she stutters.
“Is your father fucking with my outfit, and did he send his walking siren of a daughter as a distraction? Was this an alliance, or are you a fucking decoy, Emelia?”
Her eyes search mine, as mine do hers, and there is no sign of deception. I can smell, see, and sense that shit from a mile away. Like sharks smell blood in water.
“No, he didn’t. I was sold off to you so you two could shake hands and be allies, Nico. I swear.” Her words are rushed.
Is this fear talking? Or is it blatantly obvious that she’s lying, and I can’t decipher between the two?