Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Here,” Stefan says, opening a door.
“Where are you staying?”
He grins, opens his mouth to stay something but I hold up my hand to stop him and roll my eyes.
“Don’t get excited. I just want to know which room to avoid.”
“I’ll make it easy,” he says, gesturing for me to enter. I do. “You’re to stay in yours until I come for you.” He walks through and peeks into the adjoining bathroom, then walks to the door.
“My bag?” I ask when he reaches it.
“Someone will bring it up shortly.”
When he’s gone, I go to the window and watch the construction crew out there. There must be fifty men and the scaffolding only stops when it reaches my window.
There’s a pool in the distance where three women are sunbathing. A big truck is pulling in through an opening in the gates and when I look down, I find Stefan and Uncle Jack walking outside, each of them holding a beer. They head to the pool to greet the women, and I watch how each one wraps herself around Stefan and kisses his cheek. I see the happy smile on his face as they all chat.
Well, good for him because I’m never going to wrap myself around him like that.
I walk away from the window and think about what Stefan said about his brother.
About my father.
I think about what my father ordered done to Alex and I think about how quickly I defended my father to Stefan even though part of me knows the truth.
But why would my father order the killing of a man in the witness protection program? A mafioso turned snitch? He has nothing to do with the Sicilian mob. No business with them whatsoever. At least not that I’m aware of.
Stefan’s wrong. There’s no link. Even if my father is capable of such brutality.
I shake off the thought and sit on the bed. There’s nothing to do but flip TV channels so I do that until, an hour later, a man walks in carrying my duffel and a garment bag. He’s followed by two women each dragging a suitcase.
The man leaves and the women begin to set up, telling me in Italian that they’re here to do my hair and makeup and prepare me for the party.
I answer them in English and just smile when they admire the engagement ring. I manage to sneak to the bathroom for a few minutes with my iPod so I can message Alex that I’m in town. That I want to see him. I will figure out a way how. The party is big enough and I can sneak away once Stefan is distracted. But I can’t switch the thing on because it’s out of charge and the cord I shoved into the duffel is a US cord. Shit.
I take a minute to think. This is fine, not a huge setback. I can message him through my computer at home and grab a charging cable from there too.
When I return to the bedroom, the women are set up and waiting for me.
It takes them a full hour to do my hair and makeup and I sit obediently through it. I don’t wear make up most days mostly because I’m lazy and it takes too much effort but also because I hardly see anyone or go anywhere, apart from parties my father arranges and then he has people come and do it for me. Like tonight.
I don’t give it too much thought, honestly, and wonder how irritated Stefan would be to know how similar he is to my father. They both want to dress me up like a doll to show off to their friends or, in tonight’s case, to flaunt me in my father’s face.
But I push those thoughts aside because I have more important things on my mind.
Like Alex.
The woman is just zipping up the side-zipper of the dress when the door opens. My back is to it, but I don’t have to look to know it’s Stefan. It’s like every hair on my body stands on end in warning.
When I turn my head, I find him standing in the doorway wearing a black tuxedo and I have to admit, he looks good. Really good.
He’s tall, taller than most men I know, and built well with thickly muscled shoulders and arms, a trim waist and powerful legs. Those I remember from his swim the other morning.
The thought brings a flush to my face and I give a shake of my head to clear the image.
But it’s not just that he’s beautiful. There’s something else about Stefan Sabbioni. It’s the way he carries himself. He has an amazing amount of self-confidence like nothing and no one can fuck with him.
No, it’s more than that.
It’s like he’s daring anyone to try.
He looks me over and I think he’s taken off guard for a moment.