Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
And then everything went down with my sister a couple years ago. It’s complicated, and I should hate him for what he did to my old man, for strangling the former Don Bruno, and for a little while I did. But my old man got what he deserved, and besides, Father killed plenty of people in his time—it only makes sense that he got killed in turn.
And now all the pressure of being the Don of the Bruno Famiglia falls to my shoulders, whether I want it or not.
There was a time when I pictured something bigger: a future, bright and shiny clean. Just like the speech I gave earlier in the library for Senor Cuevas’s benefit. Except my real vision had nothing to do with the crime families. I hoped I could have a real chance at building a lasting legacy—something real.
Olivia had a hand in ruining that.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Go do it. Don’t stand here watching my wife swim.”
“I’m making sure my nephew doesn’t drown.”
“That boy’s wrapped in so much inflatable floating stuff he couldn’t drown in the ocean. Besides, I’d die before I let him get hurt. So stop stalling. Go talk to Olivia.”
A body shifts to my left. Elise stretches and sighs. “He’s got a point,” she says, sing-song, and I grimace. I almost forgot she was there. Elise is a fixture at Villa Bruno these days, with her fake nails and fake lips and fake tits. She was my father’s former wife, the mistress he married after he strangled my mother to death. There’s no reason for Elise to still hang around this place given how haunted it must feel for her, but she hasn’t left and nobody’s asked her to. Most of the time, she’s a benign presence floating around on the periphery of things, occasionally helping out with Antonio, mostly drinking the champagne and laughing too loud and chatting away with Karah. I plan on letting her stay for as long as she wants after what she went through.
“Thank you, Elise, but I’m not taking relationship advice from you.”
She snorts. “Just because I married your father doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.” I raise my eyebrows. She flips me off.
Nico punches my arm. “Go talk to her right now.”
“Fine, all right, fuck you both.” I throw back my drink and the whiskey feels like a space heater in my belly. Which doesn’t help since it’s hot as sin out. “But if things go wrong, I’m blaming you two.”
Elise gives me a hard look. “She’s fragile. Go easy.”
I only stare at her and walk toward the house.
Olivia Cuevas is anything but fragile. The girl I remember is a stone block in my mind dripping with blood. She’s a meat cleaver, a rabid dog, a cancer in my throat. As I transition from the blasted exterior landscape to the air-conditioned interior, my anger slowly bubbles up into my guts.
This was a mistake, and I haven’t even spoken to her yet.
Too much happened between us back then to pretend like none of it matters. I walk slowly through the house, seething at my own stupidity: how could I have thought I could handle this? Much less that Olivia might’ve gotten over everything in the ten years since we last saw each other. When her father reached out a few months back with his proposal, I thought it was some kind of joke, but Old Man Cuevas was persistent and eventually I began to see things his way. Now, I wonder if I lost my damn mind. Olivia hasn’t gotten over what happened, not at all.
The look she gave me, a mixture of horror and revulsion, told me everything I need to know about that.
And yet I made the deal with her father. I marry Olivia and in exchange we go into business together. I buy his drugs and distribute them and help him get a foothold in this country again and he gives me discounts and manpower and more connections down south. It’s a good deal, a solid plan, and it’s going to blow up in my fucking face.
All because of her.
I stand outside of her bedroom door trying to get myself together. Seeing Olivia again made me feel things I thought were long dead and buried, but they’re still swimming at the edges of my vision like ancient dreams come back from whatever place the mind banishes them. I reach up and knock, stomach in a twist.
She doesn’t answer. I knock again, and again, until eventually I curse and barge in. This is my fucking house. I won’t stand around waiting for her to give me permission to enter my own damn room.
Olivia’s sitting in the corner nook leaned back on pillows and gazing out the window. The light hits her on a slant and her dark hair billows behind her like the waves against a cliff, highlights and lowlights shimmering, absolutely gorgeous. She turns slightly, her full, pink lips pulled down below her little nose and those deep brown eyes and that incredible dark skin. I let my gaze linger on her figure and despite her conservative clothing, I’m reminded why that night happened and why I couldn’t bring myself to cut her out of my life completely even if she deserved it.