Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Brody, bro, she’s a Bianco.” Dermot laughs and waves a hand at me. “No offense, but come on, it’s like inviting…” He trails off, looking for a metaphor.
“A wolf into a sheep enclosure?” I supply, batting my eyelashes sweetly.
“More like Darth Vader to a Jedi convention.” Dermot beams at me. “Fucking hell. I always thought I’d meet a Bianco in a courtroom.”
“Take it easy,” Brody says and steers me away from that conversation. “Sorry about him. Cops think they’re funny, especially when they’re not joking around.”
“It’s okay. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
It keeps happening. There’s another cop, an Italian guy who introduces himself as Luca Moretti. He practically stares at me with unrestrained disgust and refuses to shake my hand. “Shocked they’d let a Bianco in here,” he says, and I have to put a hand on Brody’s arm to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.
“Fuck that guy,” Brody snarls when he saunters off.
All night long, we keep getting into a conversation with Brody’s police buddies and they inevitably make some comment about my family, which makes Brody step up and defend me, and soon it feels like we’re burning bridges left and right. Which is the opposite of what we want. Except Brody just gives me a look and squeezes my hand when I tell him to stop.
“You’re my wife. The second I stop defending you is the second I don’t deserve you anymore.”
That’s a great argument and it makes me feel good, but he tests the limits when we run into Chief Christopher Morgan himself, an older Irishman who apparently knew Brody’s father very well back in the day. The chief is also friendly with my brother, or maybe it’s more like he’s friendly with my brother’s checkbook. The chief keeps giving me hard looks as Brody tries to make small talk.
“Let me ask y our wife a question,” he says, leaning in and pitching his voice lower. “Your brother ever decide to follow my advice and keep his head down? Or are all these murders that keep popping up because of this stupid little conflict?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chief Morgan,” I tell him as sweetly as I can.
“I figured you wouldn’t, but listen up, Bianco. I know what’s going down. Everyone in this fucking room knows what you and your family have been up to. And if you keep on going—”
“Chief, I think that’s enough,” Brody says, stepping up beside me and putting himself in the chief’s line of vision. “My wife’s here to support the union and nothing else. She wrote a very generous check already. Are you going to make her feel uncomfortable all because you have some silly vendetta against her brother?”
Chief Morgan’s jaw works, but he shakes his head. “You’re right. I’ll keep things civil. But I’m watching this little shitshow, and I don’t like it.” He turns on his heel and marches off.
Brody steers me toward a quiet part of the room and sits me down at an empty table. “This is fucked,” he says, pulling his chair right next to mine and draping an arm across my shoulder.
I put on a smile and try to pretend like everything’s fine. “It’s okay. I kind of deserve it, right?”
“Fuck that. I don’t care who your family is, nobody treats my wife like this.” Brody’s staring at the assembled cops and their wives with unrestrained loathing. “Some of these people are supposed to be my friends.”
“I’m the enemy,” I say and put a hand on his strong thigh. “Can you really blame them?”
“Yes, I absolutely fucking can.”
“Honestly, Brody, it’s fine, I can handle it. I’m fine.” But even as the words leave my mouth, he stares at me with a mixture of anger and pity, and I have to look away. Maybe he can see through my bullshit. Maybe he can see just how much this is getting under my skin. I don’t need a bunch of asshole cops to think I’m the most wonderful, charming woman in the world, but nobody likes being treated like a pariah, and I’m no exception. I figured I’d get a cold but polite reception, not this hostility draped in a thin sheen of joking. If we still didn’t have one more thing to do, I would’ve convinced Brody to take me home a while ago.
“I know you can handle it,” he says, his voice soft, and he pulls me tighter against him. “But should you? For once in your life, think about yourself. Let me take care of you.”
“I’m the daughter of a powerful mafia family. If I can’t handle some cops being dicks, I should probably just give up. I’m strong, Brody.”
“I know you are.” He looks frustrated. “But strong doesn’t mean invincible. Strong doesn’t mean you have to do everything for everyone else and nothing for yourself. Let me step up and tell these fucking arrogant pricks to fuck off. Let me do something for you, baby, because I can’t stand around and take it for much longer.”