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)
I know it's not today, God.
I know I said that while Cesare stills breathe, I have reason to hope. I know I said what matters most is that he's alive. I remember everything I said. And it's because I still believe in all of those things that I need to leave.
I need to go away even just for a while, I need to be somewhere I can find myself...because it's also getting harder and harder to pretend that my mind is still glued to my body, even when it isn't.
Each day seems to bring more pain lately, that I feel like I've turned into this stupid, little balloon floating around aimlessly, just waiting for someone to either puncture my fragile grasp on life so I can finally expire—-or someone to grab on to me so that I'll remember what it means to be anchored.
IT'S MY FIRST NIGHT back in New York, and Greg is already waiting for me in Rufino's when I arrive at the restaurant. Ever the perfect gentleman, the son of Pilar's legal counsel comes to his feet as soon as he sees me, and I absently notice how he's attractive enough to draw other women's gazes.
"So..." A friendly grin curves over his lips. "We finally meet."
I'm secretly surprised when I manage to return his smile without having to force it. "Yup." Greg and I have only been talking to each other on Zoom before this, and another surprise is how he's much taller than I imagined.
"Well, just to make things official..." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket, but something else falls out, and I blink in surprise as he bends down to swipe a black-colored die with unusual markings from the floor before shoving it back into his pocket.
"Is it some kind of charm?" I can't help asking curiously.
"Something like that," he acknowledges wryly.
"Is it a lawyer thing or a famiglia thing?"
"A little bit of both...just like this is." It's a perfectly executed segue, and I can only smile as he offers me his business card with both hands.
"Thank you." The card looks and feels fancy, with gold lettering printed on a textured black surface.
Gregorio Buffon
Anatra Law Group LLC
"So..." Greg looks at me expectantly from across the table when we're seated. "Did this place used to be one of your local haunts?"
"It's actually my first time to be here," I admit sheepishly. "I just Googled for popular New York mafia restaurants—-"
Greg winces as soon as I say the forbidden word, and I guess Rufino's really is a popular restaurant with New York famiglia since those seated in nearby tables also turn to look at me like I've lost my mind.
The whole thing is funny, actually, but it also makes my heart ache because it reminds me of how all of the Marchettis used to react the same way, every time I slip up.
Stop it, dude! Just stop it!
"Are you alright?" Greg asks quietly.
A smile doesn't come as easily this time, and I end up forcing it in the end. "Sorry." I don't have the energy to lie, but I also know I only have to say a single word of truth, and I'll be sobbing like crazy in seconds.
Keep yourself together, Pen!
Greg studies me for a moment. "I know we agreed that we can't talk about Cesare Marchetti, since it would be a conflict of interest for me, but...how about I refer you to another law firm?"
"I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I don't think there's anything I can do that the Marchettis can't." I bite my lip afterwards, but even though I know I might end up sounding shamelessly demanding—-
"There is one favor I'd like to ask...if you think it's possible?"
"Name it."
"I know it's the Marchettis who requested for a media blackout on...on h-his case, but do you think you can ask around..." I'm just waiting for Greg to tell me I'm being stupidly hopeful and clingy at this point, but he doesn't.
"I will."
Greg hasn't made any secret of the fact that his law firm is convinced of Cesare's guilt, and even though I'm also aware his willingness to do me a favor won't come for free—-it's a risk I'm willing to take, and I find myself able to breathe more easily by the time a server comes by our table to take our orders.
I just want to make sure he's okay, and then I'll be okay, too.
The rest of the evening is surprisingly enjoyable, with Greg's stories about Pilar effectively distracting me from thinking about a certain mafia boss.
I excuse myself to go to the ladies as our evening comes to an end, and when I return it's to find an elegantly wrapped gift box waiting for me on the table.
"Just open it before you say anything," he urges with a grin. "I guarantee you'll like it."