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)
“It doesn’t?” I gape at the woman in front of me. Where’s the mom I grew up with, the one who drilled into me the importance of putting the family first?
“No.” Mom shakes her head. “You liked this man enough to sleep with him four years ago, and you had his baby. That was it. It doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life with him if you don’t want to. Forget about the families, the war, the old men in musty rooms making all the decisions. Think about what you want. Do you like Matteo?”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I know I’m turning bright red.
Mom chuckles. “I don’t blame you. He’s a hottie.”
“Mom!” I can’t believe she just said that.
She laughs at my outrage. It’s contagious. Before we know it, we’re giggling like schoolgirls.
“He’s a good man,” Mom says in a more serious tone. “Does he treat you well?”
I think about that morning Matteo took care of Jack to give me a break; the way he yelled at his own dad, fighting for me; the gentle caress on my skin after he brought me to orgasm, again and again. Again, my cheeks flame. “Yeah.”
Mom’s knowing smile turns my cheeks even hotter. “That’s good. A good man who cares about you is priceless.”
I fidget with my jeans, rubbing denim between my fingers. “So should I marry him, then? End the war?”
“Honey, your father’s a mobster. There’s always going to be conflict and danger in his life—and ours as well, by extension. I wish you weren’t burdened by our choices.” There’s more than a tinge of sorrow in her voice. Guilt, too.
“It’s not your fault, Mom. Like you said, it’s the butterfly effect. It’s not like you intended for things to turn out this way.”
“Thank you for saying that, honey. Funny how it’s easier to see things clearly when you take a step back sometimes.”
I nod. There’s a lot of things for me to consider, but Mom has helped me figure out what’s important and what can be ignored.
Mom offers to take me and Jack home with her, but I decline. Even if I have to endure the unfriendly atmosphere in this house, I feel a deep need in my soul to remain close to Matteo. It seems important.
How am I supposed to make decisions about the man without getting to know him better? Besides, at this point I’m completely confident that I’m in no danger here, not with Matteo’s protection over me.
My mom and I make plans to meet up for lunch and to visit my brother’s grave. Just as I’m entering the appointment into my phone, Jack cries out for me, and my mom rushes over to the crib, grinning from ear to ear.
Coming home already looks like a good decision. Jack will grow up surrounded by so much love.
I stand at the top of the marble steps with Jack on my hip, waving goodbye to his grandparents. He’s in a good mood today, thank God. His grin makes even my dad crack a smile through the open car window as it drives away.
The car shrinks until it looks like a toy. I turn around and start, not expecting the big, dark figure standing right behind me.
“Sorry,” he says gruffly, taking a step back. The man’s hair is speckled with gray, and he has a slightly protruding stomach, but there’s an air around him that conveys he doesn’t mess around. “I’m supposed to take you home.”
“Home?” I frown. I told my mom I wanted to give Matteo a chance. My dad didn’t protest. He believes this is where I should be. I’m his sacrificial lamb, his peace offering. “No. I’m staying here.”
“Sorry, but Matteo told me to escort you to his house. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
“Oh.” It didn’t occur to me that Matteo would be living away from his family because I never did. But of course he would.
Even if this mansion is more than big enough to house the whole Geurriero family, Matteo’s a grown man. As a young woman, I had to stay under my father’s protection, live under his roof. It’s not fair I know. I could write an entire essay about sexism in families like ours. But right now, I’d do anything to distance myself—and Jack—from Enzo Guerriero.
“The car will be waiting here when you’ve finished packing.” The man’s lips curve up, but with the dark sunglasses over his eyes, it’s hard to take that as a friendly gesture. Maybe the cold treatment I’ve gotten from the house staff so far has already made me jaded.
All the more reason to leave this place I guess. “Thank you.”
It doesn’t take me long to pack. I didn’t bring anything with me aside from my shoulder bag, and Jack’s kidnapper obviously didn’t either. I should probably fly back at some point to get my stuff. It’s going to be a pain in the ass, but it’s something I have to do. Besides, it’ll be good to see Lily.