Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“All right, my face is shown, and I’m pretty sure that Maisie Dockson is over there with her husband whispering about us right now. That’s what you want, right? Some rich girl to start spreading the news?”
“That’s exactly what I want,” I say and spot the woman she means: a skinny white lady in a dress that makes her look like a politician or a meteorologist with a husband like a wax dummy, both of them glancing over at us and whispering furiously. I smile a big grin, wink obnoxiously, and tip my head in their direction, and the woman shoots me a look so deadly I swear the flowers on the table wilt a little bit.
“Don’t engage with them,” Brice whispers furiously. “What is the matter with you, Carmine? It’s like you can’t help yourself. Maisie’s going to make it seem like we’re doing something—lascivious. Something bad.”
“Aren’t we?” I croon at her, enjoying her discomfort. “We’re in an arranged marriage right now. I know the people in your world do this sort of thing all the time, but it’s typically much subtler. We’re practically flaunting it.”
“Doesn’t matter. So long as we’re polite and smile and say all the right things, they’ll do the same and it’ll be fine. But if you start pissing people off by being provocative and giving them stupid cocky nods—”
“I understand. You’re afraid of the rumor mill. My darling and her poor reputation.”
“I’m afraid that you won’t get the one thing you really want from me, which is access, because you’re too busy slamming the door in your own face.”
I consider that for a moment and study her closely. Brice is right, if I want to make inroads with these rich people and their power brokers, I shouldn’t start out by challenging them on their own turf. I need to slowly slip my way into their ranks and once I’m already established and deeply enmeshed in their world, then I can start making waves, because by then it’ll be too late. I’m letting my hate for their kind blind me to the mission, but Brice somehow manages to keep me on track. An interesting observation I’ll have to remember for later.
The waitress comes over, explains the tasting menu, and I instruct her to send a bottle of their best wine to Maisie’s table. Brice frowns at me once the waitress leaves.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Good will gesture. I think you’re right, I shouldn’t be as aggressive as I usually am. This isn’t my world. You’re the one that knows it.”
Her eyebrows raise. “You mean you’re actually taking my advice?”
“Like I said, you know this world better than I do.”
“I’m honestly shocked.”
“I bet you are.”
“Carmine Scavo admitting he doesn’t know absolutely everything.” She puts a hand on her heart. “My god. I think I might’ve died and gone to—heaven, maybe hell, I’m not sure.”
“Definitely hell, if I’m here, filthy girl.” I grin at her as the waitress drops off the bottle at Maisie’s table, says something to them, and points toward me. I nod and raise my glass to the couple, and they seem satisfied by the gesture, and I even get a little gesture in response from Maisie herself.
“Well played,” Brice says and crosses her legs. I glimpse thigh and feel a thrill run down my spine. “Maybe you’re not a lost cause.”
“I may be a feral beast most of the time, but I can be tamed if you work hard enough.”
“Unfortunately, I have no interest in working hard to tame you at all.”
“That’s probably for the best. I think you’d much prefer it if I remained as beastly as possible.”
Her cheeks turn pink, no doubt thinking about what a beast can do to her if she’d only uncross those legs and spread them wide.
The meal comes and we spend the evening chatting about the society people she knows. I get a rundown of names, relationships, businesses, and start to see the inner workings of her blue-blood society. There are twisted, braided friendships and relationships and money suffusing everything, and the connections spread out in all directions to all levels of influence from politicians to cops to union leaders and more. She navigates the complexities of that reality with a seamless ease while I have to ask a thousand questions just to start to understand how each family connects with all the others.
At the end of dinner, I sit back, sip whiskey, and watch her eat a small, delicate chocolate cake. I admire her lips and her tongue, the pinkness in contrast to the deep brown of the dessert, and I think about those lips wrapping around me, those lips taking me, those lips kissing me and moaning my name. I don’t know how eating cake can look so fucking erotic, but Brice manages to pull it off. It’s the way she takes small bites and does it so carefully, so self-consciously, that there’s absolutely no mess at all: it’s constant perfection.