Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Can I even call Manhattan my home if I’ve been keeping one foot out the door the entire time? I might not have been doing it consciously, but now I can see the only thing tying me back there is my schooling. Other than that, I’d been able to pack up the most important things in my life in a carry-on suitcase and take off to New York at the drop of a hat.
The idealistic side of me, the romantic part that spent too much time thinking life is a romance book, thinks maybe I’ve been keeping myself available for Enzo. The thought is too daunting, so I stuff in back into the little box it came out of.
“And there’s the bride and groom.”
A voice booms from behind us, loud and demanding. The tone comes drenched in honey-dipped nicety that can only be taken at face value. The telltale stiffening in Enzo’s body warns me this is someone powerful. There’s more though, because Enzo’s teeth grind together and his smile is so forced and tight it might shatter at any moment.
“Oleg, it’s good to see you,” Enzo says, his mouth barely moves as he forces the words out. The man, Oleg, doesn’t look at Enzo. He’s staring at me. He studies me, taking me in. The only other person who gazes at me with such intensity is Enzo, yet nothing about the way this man is looking says he’s appreciating what he’s seeing. I press my body a little more firmly into Enzo’s side and he tightens his grip on me.
“Well, are you going to introduce me to your lovely bride? I have just been dying to meet her.” The silent stare off is drawing attention. I can see whispers being passed among the bored wives of the men who are too busy talking to each other to notice the shift of tension in the room. I never thought organized crime would be so gossipy, but there’s a history between these two. One that has the housewives of organized crime watching them like it’s the latest season of reality tv.
Oleg is dangerous. Anyone within his vicinity can tell. I almost want to laugh at him, the way he looks like a stereotype pulled out of an old movie with his hair slicked back and the carefully groomed facial hair. Cartoon villain, crime boss, this is a man who has mastered the sinner aesthetic. The only thing stopping me is that I don’t think he’s above shooting me at my engagement party.
“Oleg, this is Emma, my fiancée.” Everything Enzo says has an intention far deeper than I can read into. The slimy grin on Oleg’s face falters, if only momentarily. If I hadn’t been staring at him so intently, studying the way he interacts with Enzo, I would have missed it.
“Emma,” he says, as if testing the way the name rolls off his tongue. The face he makes tells me he thinks it doesn’t come off well at all. “Emma, I don’t think we ever met before. This typically isn’t a lifestyle one comes into without connections. How did you and Enzo meet?”
“We met at Andy and Bianca’s wedding,” I tell him, keeping my answer very surface level. It was an unsatisfactory answer, one that only leads to more questions, but it’s all I’m willing to provide.
“Andy and Bianca’s wedding? That was what, five or six years ago? We weren’t friendly back then, so I didn’t receive an invitation,” Oleg says with a chuckle. I almost wince. Enzo hasn’t spoken to me much about the family business, and I haven’t asked questions. I rather keep my innocence about what I’m walking into than live in anxiety every day. Now, staring face to face with someone who I’m pretty sure wants me dead, I don’t know if I made the correct decision.
The verbal conversation stilts, but I can tell there’s a conversation I’m not a part of still happening between the two men. Unflinching stares and cruel smiles. It’s a language I’m not sure I’ll ever be fluent in. A language that can convey a threat without the words being spoken.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my daughter as my plus one. Being a widow is a difficult thing and I hate coming to these sorts of events alone,” Oleg says. He beckons with his fingers and a gorgeous woman with long blonde hair peels herself away from the group she’s been conversing with.
She’s wearing a tight red dress that leaves little to the imagination and showcases all of her best features. It’d be easy to let myself feel self-conscious in her presence. Before Matteo, I probably would have been. I found peace in my body when I had been pregnant, and it helped me to cope with all the changes that had come in the postpartum period. My breasts were larger than they were before I got pregnant, and they didn’t sit as high on my chest. There were stretch marks on my cleavage from how quickly they grew. The skin around my waist is looser and no amount of weight loss will get rid of it. I have stretch marks stretching from my groin to my belly button and ones on my thighs and hips. Even my feet got bigger with pregnancy.