Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
What the hell's going on?
Cesare
LABORERS ON A CIGARETTE break outside the public market turned a blind eye when they saw a convoy of vehicles rolling up to the entrance of the Marchetti warehouse across the street. Doors simultaneously opened as men in dark-colored suits stepped out, and being dragged behind them was a man in chains, yelling for help.
Life in the city had been peaceful ever since the Marchettis came into power. It was like having an Italian brotherhood of Bruce Waynes to look after folks like them who worked their asses off day in and day out.
It was just plain nice, to wake up and know they lived in a city where no one was going to mess with them, just because they were broke and powerless. As far as they were concerned, Boston, and not a theme park, was the happiest place on earth, and all they had to do, for the status quo to remain in place...was to occasionally look away, every time a Marchetti was in the process of teaching a valuable lesson to one of their enemies.
The cries of pain and agony continued well into the night, but not a single call to 911 was made. Time...as well as the whole city was on the side of the Marchettis', and after over forty hours of torture, their captive finally broke down and began talking.
Cesare had just finished scrubbing the blood off his knuckles when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a message from his grandmother, and it was short and viciously simple as always.
I found her.
'Her' was someone he had long assumed dead, and while her existence meant that it was his life which would now be upended—-
Do you need me to do anything?
Duty to famiglia always came first, and his phone vibrated again with his grandmother's reply.
Nonna: We'll see.
Cesare: And her family? Will you tell them you found her?
Nonna: It depends.
Cesare: On what?
Nonna: On whether she's good enough for us to proceed with our plans.
He was still staring at his phone broodingly when it rang, and Massimo's name flashing on the screen had Cesare answering the call.
"I'm about to order some flowers for you, fratello. I just need to know if it's for your wedding or funeral?"
"Fuck you, fratello," Cesare returned pleasantly without missing a beat, but the words only had Massimo smirking.
Being born in the same year but having different mothers was no walk in the park for either of them. Many had delighted in constantly pitting them against each other, and while Cesare and Massimo had come to blows numerous times growing up...
"What's your plan?" Massimo asked in a sober tone.
Adulthood had changed all of that, and they might as well be twins with how fiercely loyal they were to each other.
"There's nothing to plan. Everything's already set in stone. If Nonna comes back unaccompanied, I never have to think about her again. But if Nonna thinks she's worthy, then I'll marry her."
"Just like that?" Massimo's frown was evident in his tone.
An image of their eldest brother's fiery fidanzata came to mind, and Cesare almost winced. Sarica was like a sister to all of them now, but it was no secret how the girl was also hell-bent on finding a way to escape her arranged marriage to Giancarlo.
And then there was Massimo himself, who would have to break things off with Ynez, once it was his turn to marry for famiglia.
For an arranged marriage to succeed, emotions must never be allowed to come into play, and since he had no heart to begin with—-
"Sì, fratello." Compared to his brothers' respective predicaments, his own situation was as simple as adding one and one together to come up with a rule-based marriage for two. "I'll marry her, just like that...because I intend to train her to think of me as her owner, and not her husband."
Chapter One
Penelope
A BLACK CAR COMES OUT of nowhere like a monster that's about to swallow me up, and my suspicions unfortunately prove true when I hear the old lady behind me speak.
"Get in, please."
Just like that, our roles have been reversed, and I realize all too late that everything about her was a sham. Weak and feeble, my butt.
It was all an act obviously, since the woman I almost mugged now looks more like someone's rich badass granny with her witchy near-black eyes ablaze with cunning, and her shoulders set firmly back without the slightest hint of a droop.
More cars roll into view, and in a blink of an eye I find myself surrounded by an army of remarkably well-dressed...bodyguards. Or extras for the next Matrix sequel, but presently moonlighting as hitmen.
Either way, the sheer number of them is a not-so-subtle warning about the pointlessness of fighting back or running away, and since I didn't survive living off the streets this long by being stupid—-