Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I understand all this about him by his presence, which is as familiar to me as family. And yet, what else do I know? For four years we’ve eaten Sunday dinners together, but I’m not acquainted with the real Carlo. And it seems he’s been paying attention to me, which now puts me at a disadvantage.
“Why did you come to the States, Carlo?” Nothing like going for the heaviest question first.
Carlo’s eyes slide sideways and move back to the road. He doesn’t open his mouth to speak, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to tell me.
“You want to know my secrets, bambina?”
Tingles flush across my chest, tightening my nipples, the idea of knowing his secrets exciting me. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I rub the seam of my shorts. “Well, it seems like I don’t really know you.”
He arches a brow.
“Well, I don’t. I know what you like to eat, or at least what you tell my mom you love. And I know you don’t like American coffee, but other than that, what do I really know? I don’t even know what you do for the organization.”
Carlo frowns and opens his mouth, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“I know we don’t talk about that. But the problem is, what else do we talk about?”
Carlo’s face has the cool, blank mask he always wears.
Why have I never before wondered what lies beneath it? “Cat or dog?” I quiz.
“What?”
“Which do you prefer?”
He smiles. “I have nothing against dogs. But I like cats, actually.”
I laugh at his embarrassed look, as if it’s some kind of weakness to like cats. “I love cats. My mom’s allergic, but I always planned to get a cat when I moved out.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Maggie’s allergic.” Maggie was my first roommate—we were placed together in the NYU dorms freshman year. “And then John didn’t like them.”
It occurs to me that Carlo has a talent of offering very little and turning the conversation back to me. I press on. “How many girls have you spanked?”
He laughs. “I don’t know—twenty? Twenty-five? Thirty? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t notch the bedpost.”
Even though it’s as I expected, nothing stops the jealousy from clawing up my throat. Still, I press on.
“Have you had a serious girlfriend? I mean, you never brought anyone to my parents’, but have there been partners?”
He gives a dismissive shake of his head.
“Why not?”
He shrugs. Another non-answer.
“Why did you come to New Jersey?” I try again.
He doesn’t answer, and nothing changes on his face, but I sense the thread of tension my question draws.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promise.
The corner of his lips lifts in that lopsided grin, but just as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes again. A furrow deepens between his brows. “My brother ordered me killed.”
I would gasp, except I stop breathing altogether.
Now Carlo’s knuckles tighten on the wheel, tension flexes his jaw.
“Why?” My voice cracks a little. I almost don’t want to hear the answer.
Carlo pulls into the parking lot behind 504 and parks next to my car.
“I rose too fast in the organization. My father was dying. Mario thought I’d threaten his future as the Don.”
My vision blurs, and I grip the dash as if I might fall out of my seat without it. “Carlo...I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
He doesn’t answer, but I suspect he has more to say.
I sit perfectly still, waiting.
“Sometimes, I think the same thing might happen all over again. If Joey wanted back in or if one of the older guys like Vince gets a hair across his ass. People don’t like when a younger man holds more power. Your dad’s healthy, though, so it hasn’t come to a head.”
He finally turns to look at me, and I must look shocked because regret washes over his face. He reaches out and strokes my cheek. “I shouldn’t have told you any of that.”
“No, I’m glad you did. I’m so glad.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, wanting to get closer to him. Wanting to climb in his lap, despite the difficulty presented by the steering wheel.
He gives a surprised chuckle when I attempt it and allows me to nestle into him. “Why did you think I moved here?”
“I don’t know—I thought you were hiding from the law or something. But I realized it could be anything. I can’t tell what goes on inside your head. I mean, I had no idea you were a sick bastard who likes to take his belt to—” I break off in a shriek of giggles as Carlo tickles me. “Safe word! Safe word.” I press my elbows to my sides and twist to and fro. I’ll take a spanking with his belt over tickle torture any day.
He keeps his fingertips pressing into my ribs but doesn’t move them. Bending to bite my ear, he murmurs, “Frivolous use of the safe word is going to get you spanked.”