Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
"You don't like Mas' girlfriend much, do you?"
"Not for lack of trying" I say defensively. "But she's just too..." Phoney, I almost say but manage to catch myself in time. "We don't have much in common. You've seen how she treats Cat, right?"
Gazelle's smile fades. "Maybe she'll change."
"I doubt it," I say flatly. "I don't even get what Massimo sees in her—-" I stop speaking when I notice the look on Gazelle's face. "What?"
"I...overheard girls in my school talking."
Am I the only one who doesn't overhear anything?
"It's probably because they're not from our world, and so they don't know about the betrothal..."
"Just spit it out," I say.
"But I'm sure it's not—-"
"They also don't know what your brother sees in me."
Gazelle looks at me ruefully. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," I answer airily. "The two of us don't have anything in common, and I'm proud of that."
"I see it, though."
"See what?"
"What Giancarlo sees in you."
"You don't need to make me feel better—-"
"You keep him off balance," Gazelle says simply.
A laugh escapes me. "And you think that makes him happy?"
"Giancarlo's the wisest man I know. He won't lie to himself just because he doesn't like the truth."
All I can do is stare at the younger girl. "Are you sure you're still in high school?"
Gazelle laughs, but even though we talk about other things after that, her words linger in my mind like a ghost I can't exorcise.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The party heats up in the main deck as the evening wears on, but I'm still thinking of Gazelle's words when I bump into La Strega on my way to my suite.
"Early night?" she asks in surprise.
I wrinkle my nose. "I've never been one for parties."
"Your high school counselor would beg to differ."
"Oh, please. Like you didn't really know what I was up to. I was acting out—-"
"Like you have been doing in recent months?"
I look at her innocently. "I have no idea—-"
The matriarch rolls her eyes. "I think it's time we speak the truth, bambina."
"I haven't lied to you—-"
"But can you say the same for yourself?" she challenges. "Let us be honest now, for once. Do you truly think my grandson is the type to care if you dye your hair with every color in the rainbow? Do you really believe Giancarlo would lose his temper when you wear those ridiculous tops that make it seem like America is suffering a shortage of cotton?"
Every word she utters feels like a personal attack—-
"Those things annoy me, not him."
And when La Strega is done speaking, I don't just feel offended, but I feel like going the offensive as well.
"If you want to make a point, signora, then just fuc—-"
"You know what buttons to push if you truly want to see Giancarlo lose his temper with you. But you do not do it. You waste your time pushing all the wrong buttons but never have you attempted to push the right one. Perhaps it's time you should ask yourself why?"
It's been years since I got served like this, and it still feels shitty like it always has.
"Good night, bambina."
She executes her grand exit with perfection, with La Strega promptly turning around, and the door to her room slamming shut on my face before I can even think of a single word in rebuttal.
La Strega - 1000, Sarica - 0.
What the hell is up with this night?
Whether someone is younger or older, it doesn't seem to fucking matter.
Why does everyone suddenly seem wiser than I am, and why do they all sound like they know something I don't?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I stomp into my suite and slam my own door shut, but my anger shows no signs of abating.
Fuck!
My gaze falls on the minibar in the corner.
Ha!
It's my chance to prove La Strega wrong, and I open my first can of beer.
Pushing the right button in three, two, one...
Fucked
THE WORST HANGOVER in history isn't even my biggest problem when I open my eyes.
Rather, it's the tall, dark, and handsome gentleman standing by the balcony doors, and because I've always believed Giancarlo has invisible eyes at the back of his head—-
I'm not even surprised when he turns to face me as soon as my eyes have opened.
The old witch wins again.
Even when I knew she was baiting me last night, I still fell for it. I've pushed the right buttons once and for all, and now I have Giancarlo's immediate and undivided attention.
"How are you feeling?"
The mildness of his tone alone is terrifying, and I don't even want to think of how he looks or I might just end up wetting the bed. He's still gorgeous like always, but the gentleness I've become used to - and admittedly take for granted - is completely gone. All that's left is a mask made of steel, and it makes me feel the Giancarlo in front of me is a complete stranger.