Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
I took a deep breath. I needed to get a grip. Dad wanted peace, and as long as we were in Camorra territory, I needed to calm the fuck down. Since I didn’t really need to piss, I walked down the corridor then into the common area, looking around curiously. The whole place was deserted. Like Dad had said, Remo had brought the vulnerable Falcones to safety.
I huffed, shaking my head. Trust and peace, what a load of crap. My eyes were drawn to the French doors overlooking the sprawling backyard. The sky was overhung with clouds and it was drizzling, which probably equaled a downpour by Nevada standards. I hated the barren landscape and desperate eagerness of the city. I walked out, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air. Maybe that would help me calm down.
A distant sound reached my ears. I couldn’t place it and so I followed a path of smooth white marble stone slabs down a gentle slope toward a small house. It was like a pool house but I had a feeling that wasn’t what it was for. The soft drizzle soaked my white dress shirt, making it cling to my chest and my leather shoes were soon speckled with dirt but I followed the sound until I reached a glass door, which was open a tiny gap, just enough to let classical music drift through it.
A figure moved behind the foggy glass. Driven by curiosity, I pushed my hands into the gap and slid open the door, and I froze.
A girl in a light-pink tutu was dancing to the music. She appeared weightless and in a world of her own. Her black hair was piled on top of her head but a few curls framed her face. She looked like a doll come to life. Heart-shaped lips, porcelain-smooth skin and fairylike features.
Something seemed familiar about the girl, but I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.
She was so lost in the music, she seemed oblivious to me. Her eyes were closed. I’d never thought I’d enjoy ballet but watching this girl, I couldn’t imagine tearing myself away. My mind turned blank, my heartbeat slowed and every violent thought drained out of me as I slowly walked further into the room, drawn to her.
A yap sounded somewhere, tearing me from my reverie. The girl’s eyes snapped open and her poise fell as she turned to me. Eyes as dark as bitter chocolate. Those eyes reminded me of the person who was at the top of my to-kill list if peace between the Famiglia and the Camorra ever ended. Nevio fucking Falcone.
And this was no other than his twin Greta Falcone.
Terror twisted her face. “No!”
I tensed, raising my arms. She didn’t give me a chance to explain anything. Instead she rushed past me, just out of arms’ length, only leaving a whiff of vanilla in her wake, as she fled the house. I whirled around, watching her sprint up the slope leading toward the mansion at a speed I hadn’t thought possible with her petite frame.
“Fuck!” Had I just terrified Greta Falcone enough that she was running away screaming?
Remo Falcone wouldn’t give me a chance to explain. He’d just put a bullet in my head. If Dad didn’t kill me first.
I sprinted after Greta. With my much longer legs, I soon caught sight of her again as she dashed down a staircase into the basement.
Not even stopping to think, I chased after her. She was probably leading me into a dungeon where her evil twin could torture me to his heart’s desire.
“Stop!” I shouted.
She didn’t. Instead, she turned another corner and another, and then disappeared into a room. I rushed after her but she was already on her way out again. I couldn’t stop anymore and she barreled into me, bouncing off my hard chest like a ball. My hands shot out, grabbing her arms to stop her fall. My fingers closed completely around her slim upper arms. Her body became tight as a bowstring, her eyes widened, mouth falling open, and she recoiled violently. I released her and she stumbled backward then fell to the floor.
An earsplitting alarm sounded and I whirled around. The toe of my shoe hit a wood wedge, but I was busy trying to figure out how to stop the howling.
“No!” Greta shouted, pointing at the heavy steel door, which fell shut with a loud clang. The keypad beside it glowed red once, then turned off, and a few moments later the sirens stopped.
“What the fuck is this shit?” I snarled. Had this been Falcone’s plan all along? Trapping me in a cell in his basement? Had this been a trap?
Then I remembered something, or rather someone.
I turned away from the steel door and lowered my gaze to the girl cowering on the ground.