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)
I notice something’s wrong the minute I step inside. It smells like pine cleaner and the floors are practically sparkling. But the Famiglia-approved housekeepers haven’t been in yet this week. I walk slowly toward the kitchen and the trail of perfection continues: dusted shelves, straightened paintings, shimmering and pristine counters. There’s a note on the island. Come outside.
Brody’s sitting at the table with a glass of wine at his elbow and another glass for the chair beside him. I stare for a minute as a grin spreads across my face. “Did you clean?”
He glances up from where he was reading on his phone, locks the screen, and puts it away. “I cleaned,” he confirms.
“My god. Why? What happened? Is anyone dead?”
He gives me a fake-annoyed look. “I know you’ve been stressed out lately and it helps when the house is perfect. I figured I could do this one little thing for you.”
I laugh, unable to help myself. When I married Brody, I never in a million years imagined he would clean just because having a pristine house makes my stress levels plummet. And it wasn’t like our place was very dirty before.
“You’re too much,” I say, sitting down. I accept the glass of wine and take a big drink. “Seriously, Brody. Thank you. But you don’t have to do this.”
“Haven’t you ever just sat back and let someone do things for you?” He tilts his head and studies me. “You always react like it’s the craziest thing in the world when I try to help out.”
“It’s just, I guess I think of that as my role, and I don’t really know how to handle it.”
“What if I said I had an ulterior motive?”
I shrug a little. “I hope your ulterior motive ends with me in your bedroom?”
He smirks and shakes his head. “No, that wasn’t my plan, but that’s not a bad idea.”
“What were you thinking then?”
I can practically feel his tension as he leans forward and grips his glass between both hands. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest. Even if I won’t like the answer.”
“Brody. Now I’m a little freaked out. What’s going on?”
He looks up. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The answer comes instantly. It’s not even a hard question. “Absolutely.”
He nods to himself and lets out a breath. His shoulders round and he takes a long drink. “That’s good.”
“That’s what you were worried about? You’re afraid I don’t trust you?”
“You know I’m up to something. You know it has to do with Santoro. I might act strangely and I might make weird requests, but I need you to trust me.”
I chew on my lip and put my glass down. “You’re talking about the other day at the barbecue. When you wouldn’t go on that hit with my brothers.”
“Among other things, yes.”
I get up and go to him. I sit in his lap and kiss him, and I let that kiss linger for a long time. His hands grip my hips and hold me there, and I break away slowly, staring into his eyes.
“I trust you. I hope you’re being safe, and I don’t want you to do something reckless, but I trust you.”
“Good.” He seems genuinely relieved. “My plan’s coming together. I need to keep you and your family in the dark for a little bit longer, just to be safe, but I’m going to need you to convince your father to help out in the coming days. Do you think that’s possible?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “My father has been tough lately. I mean, he knows Santoro needs to be taken down, but I’m not sure he wants to be a part of it.”
“I need him, baby. Otherwise, I don’t know if—” He stops himself like he was just about to say too much. “Just trust me.”
“I’ll talk to him. When the time comes, I’ll do my best to convince him, I promise.”
“Thank you.” He leans forward and kisses me. “Now, about that bedroom—”
Chapter 39
Brody
The law office is quiet. We haven’t been taking on much work lately because of things with the organization, and most of my employees are either working from home or doing half days. Which is fine with me, since I know they’ll all step up and work hard when the time comes, but right now billed hours are down, and the place is sleepy.
Which is why I can hear Seamus stomping over a solid thirty seconds before he shows up at my door. My secretary went home already so there’s nobody to stop him from barging inside, looking like he wants to wrap piano wire around my neck and squeeze until my eyes bulge.
“We need to talk.” He walks over to my desk and slaps a folder down. “Explain this.”
I stare at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”