Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Are you kidding me? That sounds wonderful.” After four years of taking care of Jack on my own and doing all the chores in the house, the idea of having someone cook for me seems like a luxury. And for the food to be so gourmet? I feel like I’ve died and gone to culinary heaven.
Most of my life, I lived like a princess in my father’s house, never having to lift a finger. Now, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to sit back and let people handle the details of living.
“Perfect,” says the woman with the apron. She grins. “My name is Lydia. I cook and clean for Mr. Guerriero. Well, mostly I clean because he doesn’t normally eat at home, so I was excited when he told me to prepare something for you.”
Wow. I know Matteo delegates the work, but I’m honestly touched by this thoughtfulness. I didn’t even have to ask to get my stuff flown across the country. He has considered everything.
It doesn’t change the fact that Matteo has hidden some essential facts from me, but I’ll have to admit I could get used to this.
I have a lot to think about. That night, as I lie awake in bed, wordless thoughts flit through my mind.
That first, fateful night I met Matteo. Our blind date. The way he wore me down and won me over with his patience, determination, and kindness. The dark revelations of the past couple of days. My mother’s words.
The strangest thing? I can’t quite explain why I feel he way I feel, but . . .
Despite the fact that nothing is certain right now, I’m feeling good. At peace. Like for the first time in years, things are finally falling into place.
Matteo
“Are they home yet?” I ask Hector as I seat myself inside the car.
“Sure. Your son is fucking adorable, by the way. Makes me wonder if maybe he was another man’s kid.”
“Fuck you.” Despite my irritation, I breathe a little more easily. I was worried Grace might’ve chosen to leave with her parents earlier today.
Hector’s booming laughter fills the car. He takes one hand off the wheel to punch me lightly on the bicep. “Lighten up, will you?”
“Seeing Franco lying helpless in his hospital bed doesn’t exactly put me in a good mood.” As soon as I say the words, the mood turns somber.
Hector falls silent as we drive down familiar roads back home. “They say he could wake up any time.”
“Sure. Or never.”
You can never tell with a comma the doctor told me. It could take a week or a year.
I have no problems covering Franco’s hospital bills. He’s one of my most trusted men. But I’m having issues determining how long is too long to wait.
Like many men working for me and my father, Franco has no family, so we’re the ones who have to make these decisions on his behalf. He grew up in the foster system and hasn’t had much luck with the ladies—not a big surprise, actually; women tend to avoid long-term commitment with guys who work for the mafia.
Not for the first time today, I think about Grace and the choices she’s facing. She doesn’t have many options. She can live in her dad’s gilded cage or mine. I wish I could set her free, but as a mafia princess, there will always be someone who sees her as a target.
I take a deep breath. It must’ve been hours since Grace and Jack were in this car, but I can still smell the fresh, sweet scent of wild jasmine in the air.
Maybe it’s just my imagination, though. I miss her, and I can’t wait to see her again.
I’ve fantasized about having her in my house, and now that fantasy has come true. There’s even a happy surprise in the form of Jack. My life is literally better than my wildest dreams. But if I fail to convince Grace to stay, I’ll lose it all.
Grace
The cool moonlight filters in through the sheer curtains over the window. A shot of adrenaline jolts me awake at the sight of a shadow hunched over Jack’s crib.
Fixing my eyes on the dark silhouette, I reach for the heavy, brass table lamp on the nightstand that I chose specifically for this purpose. But my fingers fail to find what I’m looking for. I glance sideways and realize – wait a minute – that’s not my nightstand.
It takes two seconds for me to realize where I am. There’s no way an intruder could’ve made it past the tight security in this place. So that figure must be . . .
“Matteo?” My voice comes out scratchy, and I clear my throat.
He turns his head at the sound. “Hey. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispers, his gaze following me as I push the covers off and join him by the side of the crib.