Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Then she noticed that one of her dad’s cufflinks had come off, probably from when I was hugging, kissing, and venting my grief to him.
“Was Dad up here?”
“Have you told him I’m coming?”
Since Leo is staying at the apartment, Rosa has arranged to have dinner with him. This involves three cars of security and an armored truck. It’s a lot of effort for Leo to go to in order to avoid me. He’s probably going to be pissed if I turn up.
“No need,” Rosa says breezily, adjusting her hair. “We’re getting there early, so the chef will have plenty of time.”
Rosa is a great person, but sometimes, she takes all this for granted. To me, it’s still like a fairy tale—personal chefs and the assumption of luxury. I can’t imagine raising a family with all this privilege.
Rosa and I were only at the same school because Mom worked so hard and saved so much to send me there, and yet I can imagine it, too. Who wouldn’t want to give their kids the best life possible? That’s exactly what Mom did, and I’d do with my and Leo’s kids.
“Uh, okay.”
Rosa walks over to me and smiles broadly. “Look, this has all been such a whirlwind. Let’s try to have a nice dinner tonight. Anyway, I need you there in case it gets awkward with talk about Matvei. You can be my shield.”
She hugs me. My arms stay at my sides for a few seconds. I don’t deserve this hug. Then I embrace her. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Yeah, right. I’m going to protect her from Leo. I can’t even protect myself from him, and let’s face it. I don’t want to.
“Look who I brought,” Rosa says, striding ahead of me in the living room.
The apartment is far more modern than the townhouse, with sleek surfaces and abstract art. The décor is almost science fiction with how clean and pale it is.
Dario spots me first. He’s leaning against the wall, a glass of whiskey in his hand. When he sees me, he pushes away from the wall, his eyes widening. Does he know? He looks like he knows.
Leo sees me a second later. He’s wearing a casual pale blue shirt, matching the color of one of his eyes and the fabric hugging his muscular build. It takes a lot of effort not to relive vividly the moment I pushed my face against his chest, cried, vented my sadness, and he was there comforting me, my man.
Forever. That’s what he said.
“The more, the merrier,” Dario quickly says, walking over to me. “Emma, it’s nice to see you again. All grown up now.”
I cringe, his awkwardness all but confirming it. When I glance at Leo, I can also read it in the darkness of his brown eye.
“Nice to see you too, Dario.”
“I’ll let the chef know,” Leo says, leaving the room and running again.
“Is it okay, Uncle Dee?”
Dario grins. “Of course it is. She’s your best friend. We’re happy you’re here, Emma. You’re always welcome. Would either of you like a drink?”
“A couple of sodas?” Rosa says, glancing at me.
“That sounds fine.”
Dario leaves almost like he wants to run away too like he can’t bear to exist in the unease.
“Just us, then,” Rosa jokes. “Let’s sit down.”
We sit on the couch, Rosa interlacing her fingers when Dario returns, throwing him a look.
“Something wrong, Rosa?” he asks, returning to his original position. It’s like he can’t ever sit still.
Where the heck is Leo? Newsflash, self. I shouldn’t care.
“N-no,” she says. “Just-just last night, did you, um, do anything?”
Dario knows what she’s referring to. Matvei.
“I did, Rosa,” he says gruffly, then knocks back his glass of whiskey, “and I’d do it again. The things he would’ve done to you…”
“Yes, yes,” Rosa says, nodding. “I know. Thank you. Sorry. Yes, where’s Dad?”
“I don’t know. Maybe hiding.” Dario makes for the door again. “Let me go find him.”
“And more whiskey, I bet.”
Dario chuckles. “Don’t be so puritanical.”
“That was hypocritical, right?” Rosa says once he’s left the room.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Bringing up the Matvei stuff. That’s your reason for being here, remember, Miss Protector?”
I try to laugh with her. She’s trying so hard, pushing through all the pain of the last few days, the reveal about her mob life, the agony at Matvei, and what almost happened to her.
Distantly, I wonder if I should be more concerned that I’m going to have dinner with a killer. Then I think of Mom’s illness eating her away and all the times I wished I could kill that. I think of the murderous rage that filled me. That scared me most, my certainty. If it had been a person doing that to Mom, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I would’ve done my best, so I can’t be mad or judgmental.
Mostly, I’m wondering where the heck Leo is. I wonder if he noticed my outfit, if he cares, and if he regrets what he said. Does that make me a bad person?