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)
THINGS HAVE STARTED to feel overwhelmingly surreal again by the time Cesare and I leave his grandmother's study, and it's only when I'm already in the passenger seat of Cesare's sports car, and he's driving past the ornate gates of the Marchetti Mansion that I finally manage to get out of my thoughts.
I glance at the rearview mirror, and my heart skips a beat when I realize there doesn't seem to be a convoy of cars full of bodyguards following us.
If it's truly just the two of us now, then...is it safe to assume we're about to have our first date?
Eep.
The thought makes me giddy as a schoolgirl, and my heart starts racing when I turn my gaze to my mafia boss.
Oh.
Is it just me...or does Cesare look so much cooler when he's driving, and especially with a pair of aviator glasses shielding his gaze?
"As much as I love having you stare at me—-"
Oops.
"I need you to concentrate and listen carefully to what I'm about to say."
It takes everything not to squirm in my seat while I wait for his next words. Is this it? Is he going to tell me we're about to go out on a date, and it's because he's changed his mind, and he's realized that what he really wants is a normal marriage—-
"You know that Boston is Marchetti territory, sì?"
I nod and say yes even as I try figuring out what this has to do with anything. Maybe...Cesare is just like his grandmother, and this is all a test? Maybe he wants to know if geography is a strong suit of mine, since it's something everyone expects from a mafia boss's wife?
"There is nothing that goes on in this city that our famiglia does not control. Everything you see is ours. Everyone you will meet here works for us. Boston is ours, in every way there is."
And I guess...he's now explaining to me what's about to be our conjugal assets?
"But in a couple of minutes, we'll be taking the interstate and heading to Providence."
He looks at me like he's expecting me to say something, and so I say...
"That's in Rhode Island, right?"
Cesare relaxes. "Essato."
"And, um—-"
I feel like I'm acting like a goody-two-shoes student eagerly aiming to be some teacher's pet, but...I just can't seem to help myself.
"Providence is about an hour's drive away, isn't it?"
"Sì." Approval underscores his tone, and I'm now absolutely certain of two things: geography does mean huge to famiglia, and yes, I really am acting like I want to be this man's pet.
"You understand then, tesoro? What that one hour means?"
Since he looks slightly perturbed, I'm guessing he doesn't want me to be bored during the drive?
"You don't have to worry about me—-"
"I will always worry about you, Penelope."
A faint smile curves over his lip when he sees me blush, and I mentally swoon when Cesare takes my hand and presses a quick, feather-soft kiss to my knuckles.
Boy, oh boy.
Cesare only smiles every time he catches me stealing looks at him, but as embarrassed as I am, it's simply another thing I'm unable to control.
He's just too beautiful and hot to be real, and it feels even more incredible when I remember Cesare telling me every inch of him is mine.
With my head in the clouds the entire ride, it's only when Cesare's car finally backs into a parking slot that hunger pangs hit my stomach, and I belatedly remember that we have yet to have breakfast.
Cesare helps me out of the car, and I tell myself I need to be patient and not ask him about what he has planned. It seems like he wants our date to be a surprise—-shit.
I know I'm doomed to starve a little while longer the moment Cesare leads me up the entrance steps of a high-rise building, and a guard holding an honest-to-goodness machine gun greets him with the kind of deference that only someone who's also famiglia can show.
I wish I could convince myself there's a Jollibee waiting and ready to feed us inside, but this place screams 'mafia-exclusive' any way you look at it, and I'm not even surprised when security has their dogs sniff circles around our bodies for explosives before clearing us for entry.
The first set of heavily-tinted doors slides open, but this only allows us inside an empty antechamber of sorts, with what looks like a concierge counter adjacent to another set of doors made of bulletproof glass.
"Buongiorno, signore, signorina."
The man behind the counter looks like Abraham Lincoln...if our former president ever opted for a mohawk and a nose ring
"Regular or extra, Signor Marchetti?"
"Regular would do, Cassio."
I tug at Cesare's sleeve as the other man turns away. "Please tell me he's offering complimentary coffee?" The concierge comes back just as I finish speaking, and he immediately starts coughing as he places a small metal box on the counter.