Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“We had a very special moment together in the men’s bathroom of this club,” I say, struggling to keep a straight face. I can’t help but fuck with her. She’s getting so damn flustered and I find it beyond sexy when her cheeks flush red and her jaw works. “Isn’t it better that we’re getting married now?”
“No, not at all, and I never said I’m going to marry you.”
That makes me sit up. I’m not exactly thrilled about this situation either, but I wouldn’t dare refuse to do my part for my family, even if that means taking a wife I don’t want, even a wife who clearly despises me now.
“I wasn’t aware you had a choice,” I say, which makes her even more angry. Although I don’t know why—it’s not like I have a fucking choice either.
“I don’t know how it works where you come from, but my brother isn’t going to force me into anything. Maybe it screws up your stupid plans, but you can marry your freaking hand for all I care, because there’s no way I’m spending the rest of my life with you.”
I take a slow, deep breath to keep myself calm. She’s upset right now, which is completely understandable, but I don’t think she understands what refusing this marriage will do. I gesture at the chair next to me again.
“Please sit down and listen to me for one second.”
“No, I said what I came here to say, and now I’m done. I’m not marrying you. Good luck being a prick to someone else.”
“Stefania,” I say, struggling to keep myself under control. “You stubborn, selfish girl, sit down and just listen.”
“I’m stubborn and selfish?” Her eyes widen and a shocked laugh escapes her lips. “You’re saying that I’m the selfish one?”
“If you break this marriage, you will be screwing up months of negotiations and putting your entire family in jeopardy. I don’t know what your brother told you, but this arrangement isn’t some fucking fairytale fantasy love story. This is about the survival of both our organizations. Now, sit down and listen.”
She doesn’t move. I can tell I have her attention at least. Her face softens and she looks skeptical, but she’s not yelling at me anymore, which is a step in the right direction.
And it helps that I’m not lying.
“Talk fast,” she says and sits on the very edge of the chair. She downs the rest of her wine. “I’m out of here in two minutes.”
I rub my face, beyond frustrated by this entire situation. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down on her in that bathroom, except I don’t think I’ll ever really regret that. The look of ecstasy on her face as she came on my tongue is worth this fucking headache.
“Your family is weakened from years of fighting a war,” I tell her, speaking quietly enough that she’s forced to lean closer. “They need our connections to the Mexican cartels for better access to drugs, and they need it fast before their rivals begin pushing into their territory.”
“We have no rivals,” she says, waving me away. “The Milano Famiglia and the Rinaldo Famiglia are both allies. There are no other crime families in Philadelphia.”
“Not yet, you’re right, but the New York families are going to move in soon. Those sharks smell blood in the water, and they plan on muscling onto your turf now that you’ve been beaten up and weakened, and it’ll work unless your brother does something drastic.”
All of that is true. Renzo allegedly had spies in the New York families and they reported back on their plans, which happen to match the rumors we heard from our own little listening network. But I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
“Let’s assume that’s true.” She looks like she really doesn’t want to concede the point. “What do you get out of it?”
“My family’s dealing with our own internal issues. Your brother will provide us with direct access to his overseas contacts in the illegal arms trade. We plan on increasing our personal stockpile while selling to various other factions in Canada and on the West Coast. Basically, you get drugs and we get guns. It’s a match made in heaven.”
She looks down at her wine glass like she wishes it were full again. I nudge my whiskey toward her and she hesitates for a heartbeat, but grudgingly accepts it.
“What happens if we don’t do this?” she asks, taking a sip and making a face. “God, I hate this stuff.” She drinks more of it and glares at me. “You’re telling me there’s no other way you guys can hash out an arrangement? It sounds like a straightforward business arrangement.”
That’s exactly what I said to my father two months ago when he came to me with this plan. I wasn’t fucking happy about it, just like she’s not happy about it, but his explanation is the only reason I’m sitting here in this damn club talking to a girl who hates my guts.