Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“I don’t know. Some people say the Russian Mob did this, others say he tried to kill himself because he isn’t right in the head, but nobody knows,” Anastasia replied under her breath.
Who would try to kill themselves like that? And Growl didn’t seem the guy for suicide. The first story with the Bratva sounded far more likely. “So they call him Growl because that’s what it sounds like when he talks?” I asked.
Anastasia barely seemed to register my words but Trish nodded in confirmation.
I didn’t ask why they called him the Bastard. That much I could explain. People in our world didn’t look kindly upon children who were born out of wedlock. It was old-fashioned and ridiculous but some things never changed. I didn’t know who his parents were. They couldn’t be high-ranking members of society, that was certain.
I directed my eyes back to the man. He seemed completely indifferent to what was happening around him, as if this party was just another of his duties. But something told me that despite his displayed boredom he was alert. I doubted that much passed his attention. He was holding a glass of champagne in his hands but it was still full. The elegant crystal looked tiny compared to him and I marveled that he hadn’t crushed it between his palms yet. As if he could read my mind, he turned his head and stared straight at us. Trish let out a gasp and jerked beside me, spilling a few drops of her drink on the expensive looking wooden floor. She really couldn’t have acted more suspicious if she’d tried. After a moment, both Trish and Anastasia jerked their heads down, breaking eye-contact. Maybe to make him believe they hadn’t been watching him, or maybe they simply couldn’t bear the power of his gaze. Now I understood why my parents and even my friends had sounded so terrified when they’d talked about him. Even from the distance his eyes almost made my knees buckle.
It wasn’t only fear that made my heart speed up though; there was something close to excitement too. It was like watching a tiger through the glass of its enclosure and marveling at its power. Only here the only thing keeping him from attack were the social rules even someone like him was bound to. The leash Falcone had him on wasn’t a physical or visible one, but it was there nonetheless.
I wondered what was going on in his head. How did he feel surrounded by people he had hardly anything in common with? He was one of them and yet not really. A man of the shadows because nobody wanted him in the light. When I realized how long I’d been staring, I averted my eyes, but my pulse kept up its erratic pace afterward. I wasn’t sure when I’d felt this…alive the last time. My life always meandered in its predetermined pathways, but tonight felt like an adventure.
“Oh my God, that was creepy,” Anastasia whispered. “He should have stayed in the hole he crawled out of.”
I couldn’t say anything. My tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“Is he still watching?” I asked eventually, my eyes firmly plastered on the bubbles still rising in my glass.
“No, he’s gone,” Anastasia said with no small relief. “I can’t believe he came here. People like him should stay among themselves and not pretend they belong to us.”
I peered toward the corner he’d previously stood but like Anastasia had said, he was gone. For some reason it made me nervous that I didn’t know where he’d gone. He was one of the people you’d like to keep track of because you feared they could sneak up on you. And I could have sworn that I could still sense his eyes on y skin. I shivered. Paranoia usually wasn’t my style.
I searched my surroundings but he was nowhere to be seen. I shook the ridiculous feeling of being watched off. It wouldn’t do for me to start acting paranoid. If I embarrassed myself here, it would be a while before I’d be invited to anything again. Or worse, Cosimo would decide I wasn’t fit to become his wife. Mother and Father would never forgive me if that happened.
“Look who’s coming,” Trish said under her breath, and for a ridiculous, heart-stopping moment I actually thought it was Growl.
I turned to see who she was talking about and felt heat rush into my cheeks. Cosimo was heading our way. He was dressed in a grey double-breasted suit, dark-blond hair slicked back and thin-rimmed glasses on his nose.
“He looks like a broker,” commented Trish in a low voice.
He managed Falcone’s money, so that wasn’t very far off. The suit was his second skin. I’d never seen him in anything else. It was a stark contrast to the man I’d been spying on mere seconds ago.