Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
I don’t know how much longer I could have taken the provocation of being in the same vicinity of her and not touch her.
She sighs peacefully next to me, and something inside me melts. She must be dreaming. I wonder what she could be dreaming about. It better involve me and no one else. Her mouth moves and to my horror, I think I hear her call out the name of the freckled maggot. My blood boils just thinking about another man being in her dream. From the first moment I saw Francesca, I knew she was mine. As the years passed the conviction only became stronger. No matter how many women I lay with she remained the shining prize.
One day.
One day.
I would make her mine.
And I did.
I frown with fury. I’ll be damned if I let anyone touch what is mine, even in her dreams. The urge to wake her up and fuck her until she doesn’t even remember his name is so strong I have to clench my hands into fists.
My father once told me, “As the head of this organization, you will have unlimited wealth and power, but in return, you will be asked to make many sacrifices and compromises. The most important one is love. You cannot afford to love; it becomes a weakness. And a weak Boss is not a Boss at all.”
My father did not only talk the talk; he lived it. He never loved anyone. Not even me. But as a child who rarely saw him, I idolized him and ate up everything he said. I wanted to be like him so desperately, but Nonna Isadora once said I was nothing like my father. I was angry with her for saying that.
But lately…
I realize Nonna Isadora was right. She understood me better than I did.
Now, I’ve become aware that my feelings for Francesca are starting to run a lot deeper than mere desire, and a part of me, the sensible part, tells me that I should nip it in the bud. I cannot afford a soft heart, but another part of me is in awe of the feelings she awakens in mine. Everything is brighter, sweeter, richer, and better with her in my life because of her. Sometimes I feel as if I wasn’t really living at all ‘til she came into my life.
My gaze continues to roam Francesca’s restful face. She has over a hundred lashes on her upper eyelid. I know that because I’ve been staring at her long enough to count. When sleeping, she occasionally scrunches up her nose, and it is the most adorable thing ever.
These are the few things I’ve noticed while she has been asleep in my arms, but there are even more details that I’ve quietly garnered about her since I slipped my ring on her finger.
She hates it when I call her Francesca. I see it in how her eyes flare when I do it. She prefers that I call her by an endearment, even though she will not admit it. Not yet, anyway.
Also, her laughter starts from her lovely eyes. Whenever she finds something funny, her eyes will crinkle up and shine like a thousand stars before her mouth moves. I think it’s the most beautiful thing ever. But like her laughter, her annoyance and irritation also start with her eyes. I’ve been a recipient of this so many times I can always tell when it’s coming.
I lived with Nonna Isadora and the boys for years before I moved out to carve my path, but I know more about Francesca in a few weeks than I know about the family I’ve known all my life.
My phone beeps from the bedside table and I quickly reach for it. I don’t want it to wake Francesca. It's a text from Dutch.
Got news, Boss. We’ll be waiting downstairs for you.
It is ten minutes past seven in the morning, and I realize I’ve been so caught up staring at Francesca I haven’t had a nick of sleep. Well, it’s too late now, work calls. Carefully, I extricate myself from Francesca and gently place her head on the pillow before drawing the sheets over her naked form.
I make a great effort not to look at her delicious body, or I know I’ll lose myself in her all over again. The Devil knows I’d like nothing more than to get back in that bed and spend all day making love to my wife.
After ten minutes in the bathroom, I return to the room to change into a suit. I take one last look at Francesca before I leave. Dutch and Vance are at the base of the stairs.
“Good morning, Boss,” Vance says, handing me his phone. There’s a video clip playing, and I instantly recognize the man in it. It’s Tom Hawkins, the newly instated New York superintendent.