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)
It’s childish. She likes me. As if we’re in grade school and she’s got a crush. As if I haven’t been fucking her into a gooey mess every night. But she said it out loud, she admitted to liking me, and it feels so fucking fantastic that I don’t yell at anyone all day long, not even after my men fail to find any trace of the guns that were stolen, and not even when Emilio fucks up with one of the pallet jackets and crashes it into a bunch of boxes.
When I get home that evening, the girls are in better spirits, and I decide to show Giorgia to her lodgings.
“You have a fucking guest house?” Stefania looks at me like she’s going to stab me in the throat, and I can’t blame her. I should’ve mentioned this as an option when she first came to live here, except I wanted to keep her close for selfish reasons.
“Houses,” I correct. “Did you really think people lived in all these? Come on, Giorgia. I’ll give you a nice one.”
For her part, Giorgia gushes over her accommodations. It’s a nice place, I have to admit, although there are way too many walls and rooms for my liking. I’m itchy and uncomfortably as I give her a tour, and Stefania’s grumpy the whole time, muttering about how this place could’ve been hers.
“Thanks for doing all this,” my wife says while Giorgia takes a shower and gets herself settled. We’re out front on the stoop sharing a glass of wine.
“I’m happy to do it. I think you needed this.”
“I definitely needed a visit from home.” She leans against my shoulder.
“No, I meant the wine. A little hair of the dog.”
She laughs and takes another sip. “That too. But seriously. Did I tell you how Laura helped yesterday? Or was I too sloppy to mention it?”
“You don’t get sloppy, dolcezza. You only get pleasantly buzzed.”
She snorts and kisses my cheek. “What a prince. But seriously, Laura looks at me like she wants to rip out my throat with her teeth, except she helped when Matty tried to kick Giorgia out. You should’ve seen her, all the guys were terrified.”
I sigh and rub my eyes. That’s Laura, lots of bark and even more bite. Stefania’s not wrong to think my youngest sister wants to murder her—it’s probably not far from the truth. Everyone’s nervous around her, and I can’t blame them.
“She means well,” I say very softly. “I know how she comes off, but she’s got her reasons.”
“You two seem close. At least the few times I’ve seen you together.”
“Laura and I understand each other in a way that nobody else can,” I say and leave it at that because while my story means something to Stefania, it’s not my place to talk about Laura’s issues. “It makes her protective of me, and she has trouble moderating herself sometimes.”
“No kidding. She hates me, although she did something nice for me, so maybe she doesn’t?”
“She doesn’t,” I confirm, mostly because I don’t think she’s capable of that level of feeling. “She’ll come around eventually. I doubt she’ll ever be your best friend, but she’ll stop threatening your life.”
“Can’t wait for that.” She sits up straighter and kisses the side of my chin. “Hey, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask you. About last night.” Her cheeks turn red, and this time it’s not from the alcohol. “I said something to you, right?”
“You said a lot of things.” I tilt my head as if trying to remember. “You told me that I’m a magnificent lover with an enormous and incredible penis.”
“Davide,” she groans, covering her face with her hands.
“You said I make your body feel things you never dreamed about. You begged me to ravish you, and even offered to let me deflower your—”
“Stop right there,” she says, elbowing me in the side. “You prick. I was trying to have a nice moment, and you ruined it.” She tries to get up and I catch her hand, dragging her back until she falls into my lap. I hold her down when she squirms.
“I’m teasing, baby,” I say, covering her mouth with mine and burying it in a kiss. She tries to curse me out but I keep on kissing until she reluctantly returns it. When I’m satisfied she feels better, I break it off. “And you remember what I said back, don’t you?”
“I remember,” she says, her breath coming faster. “I just wanted to know if you meant it, or if you said it because I was drunk and it didn’t mean anything. It’s fine, you know, if you didn’t. I won’t hold you to anything.”
“I meant it.” I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “I like you too, dolcezza. I like you very, very much.”
Except I’m using the wrong L-word.