Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Damiano will probably never marry. If he does, I pity the woman he chooses. He’s the capo dei capi – the boss of bosses, and I swear the man’s blood runs cold in his veins. I’ve tried to form a deeper friendship with him but only Angelo’s managed to break through Damiano’s hard-as-steel exterior.
Unlike the other four capos, I don’t surround myself with soldiers. I prefer to work alone. Then again, I don’t need an army of guards because my primary source of income comes from hacking and finding out information no one else can.
The capo title is something I’ve inherited from my father. I mentioned to the other four to vote someone else into my place, but they didn’t want to hear about it.
Besides the ballet company, I also own an opera house. That’s where my true passion lies.
Honestly, if I hadn’t been born into this position of power, I wouldn’t be in the mafia. Where Angelo, Franco, and Renzo trade in illegal arms and counterfeit goods, Damiano makes his fortune from extortion, property control, and construction.
Sure, I can fight, and I’m one of the best snipers, but I’d rather make love than war. It takes a lot to get me upset, and I’m probably the most patient and understanding out of the five of us.
With things calming down a little, I’m finally able to visit the ballet company. I was hoping to get here earlier, but I got held up at the opera house.
As I near the first studio, my eyes scan over all the dancers. I’ve always loved fine art, plays, and opera shows. When I discovered the ballet company was on the market, I didn’t waste any time purchasing it.
There’s just something magical about this world.
I watch as the women practice, their graceful movements in perfect sync. One of the ballerinas notices me, and she stumbles over her feet, earning her a stern scolding from the teacher.
I move on to the next studio, where three women have just finished with a session. This time, I’m spotted instantly, and before I can make my escape, they come rushing toward me.
One of the dancers breaks away and holds her hand out to me. “Mr. La Rosa! I’m Phoebe. It’s such an honor meeting you in person.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmur.
I shake her hand, and as I pull away, she brushes her palm over my bicep, looking up at me with blatant interest.
For a moment, I contemplate asking her to join me for dinner, but then a certain woman pops into my mind. I’ve only seen the dancer once, and she was nothing like the perfect ballerina in front of me. Quite the opposite.
The woman I saw a while back had wild black hair, and she danced with so much passion it instantly gripped my attention. Her movements weren’t perfect, which only lent to her wild persona.
“Would you…” Phoebe starts to say something.
I cut her off with a curt, dismissive nod while murmuring, “Ladies.”
Walking away, I glance into the other studios, and when I don’t see the mysterious dancer, I feel disappointed. It would be a pity if she no longer danced at my company.
I head to Mrs. Stafford’s office. The dancers call her Madame Stafford, and she’s responsible for running the company.
When I step into her office, a welcoming smile curves her lips as she says, “It’s been a while since you graced us with your presence.”
I take a seat opposite her desk. “I’ve been busy.”
She presses a button on her desk phone. When her receptionist answers, she orders, “Please bring two cups of tea.”
She leans back in her chair, and her eyes sweep over my face. “Are you just visiting, or is there something I can help with?”
“Just visiting. How’s the preparation for the winter show coming along?”
“Very good,” she replies. “We have three ladies who shine above the rest.”
Probably the dancers I just met.
The office door opens, and Astrid brings in a tray of tea. After she sets it down on the desk, she leaves, and I wait for Mrs. Stafford to hand me a cup before I ask, “Do you know all the dancers?”
She nods while taking a sip of her beverage. “As you’re aware, every applicant has to audition before they’re permitted to join the company.”
“I ran into a dancer a while back. She’s a head and a half shorter than me and has curly black hair that reaches past her shoulders. Gray eyes,” I say, hating that I don’t have a better description of the woman.
Mrs. Stafford lets out a contained burst of laughter. “Half our dancers have black hair.” She glances at the diamond-encrusted wristwatch, then mentions, “The rehearsal is about to start. Will you be joining me?”
Finishing the tea, I set the cup down as I rise to my feet. “Of course.”