Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
His jaw ticks, irritation bubbling to the surface, though that's the thing about Romero: he's smart enough to take a breath before responding. “I wanted to give Tatum the chance to decide whether she wants them.”
“You're fucking with me, right?”
He blinks, his expression unmoving. “Would you rather tell her the ashes were lost and there's no hope of getting them back? I have to wonder if you even discussed this with her. Does she know her mother was cremated?”
“Alright, fine, you win. But it's damn morbid, if you ask me.”
“That's your opinion,” he reminds me. “She might not feel the same, and if she doesn't want them, she can… I don't know, scatter them or whatever it is people do. She deserves to have a choice in the matter. She wasn't a great mom, but she was her mom, nonetheless.”
How does he manage to make me feel like an asshole when it comes to my own child? The pride I need to swallow comes damn close to choking me before I mutter, “You're right. I didn't think about it. All the bad blood between us… Amanda hasn't been much more than an enemy for a long time, you know that.”
“And you know you don't need to explain anything to me. I've been here through all of it.”
Note to self: have a discussion with my daughter about the remains of her late mother. I'm sure this will be easy for both of us.
When Henry calls from the front gate to alert me to Sebastian's arrival, Romero makes a point of going to his office. “You're not going to sit out the entire meeting, are you?” I call out.
“No. I'm setting these somewhere safe.” And something tells me Romero is in no hurry to meet up with him, anyway. I've never known him to be so openly averse to any of our associates. Normally he's cold, emotionless. Although, lately, he's shown more and more of the boy he was back when I first took him in.
He does have a point, though. I don't need a box of ashes on my desk when Sebastian walks in. I'd rather they not be in my house, at all, honestly. I'm not about to develop a soft spot for the woman now that she's dead, especially when she caused me nothing but misery till the very end.
It sounds cruel, but she got what was coming to her. I can stifle my true feelings for Tatum's sake, but when I'm away from her, there's no pretending Amanda was more than a waste of oxygen.
Pushing out of my chair, I walk to the entrance to greet my guest, walking as smoothly and quickly as possible. The last thing I want to give off is the impression of weakness—maybe it's childish or makes me a stereotype, but I'll be damned if I slow down or show discomfort. Especially in front of some cocky young kid.
I've opened the front door and am stepping out onto the brick patio when Sebastian's car pulls around the courtyard. As before, he is not alone, his driver remaining behind the wheel while two guards exit the vehicle, scanning the area from behind their sunglasses despite the severely overcast skies.
It's a show of power that I give zero fucks about. Sebastian emerges, raising his own sunglasses before lifting a hand in greeting.
“It's good to see you,” I greet, offering a firm handshake before ushering him into the house. “Especially under better circumstances.” Thunder rumbles in the distance, signaling an oncoming storm. “We'd better get inside before the sky opens.”
“I'm glad everything turned out alright. Your daughter's okay? And Bianca?”
“Everyone is doing fine.”
“What a relief. And Moroni? I've heard he's gone underground.”
“Yes.” I grit my teeth as we walk side by side. The sound of the man's name is like a match dropped in a pool of gasoline, turning my gut into a raging inferno only vengeance can tame. “I heard the same. Why do I feel like that's part of the reason you're here?”
To his credit, he laughs, giving me a sheepish expression. “Am I that transparent? Really, I thought I was better than that. I need to up my face game.”
I know better than to think he'll accept, but I offer him a drink once we reach my office. He refuses, unbuttoning his jacket before taking a seat. It's a little early for me, too, so I grab a bottle of water and take my usual seat.
“Where's your guy?” he asks, eyes darting around the room. “I thought he came with the room. Part of the furniture or something.”
And he'd rip your head off if you dared say that in his presence. Clearly, we've begun to drop the formalities. “He'll join us shortly.”
“Ahhh! Okay, well, as I was saying, yes, Moroni is a big part of why I wanted to talk to you. I'm as committed as ever to helping you take that bastard down. It was one thing when he wanted to screw with your business, but he changed the stakes by attacking your loved ones. He deserves to suffer for that.”