Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Cautiously, I pushed the door open. The dark, somewhat spiky hair on the man sitting with his back to me matched Stefano’s. But he said he had to work. Did the Mafia allow for remote work now?
He must’ve sensed my presence, because he turned. “Leila.”
“Sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
He swiveled in his desk chair to face me. He had on blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a column of buttons at the top. All in all, he was much more casually dressed than his brothers. “Welcome to my office.”
“You work here?”
“Yep.” He crossed his long legs in front of him. “And you’re too well-versed in families such as ours to ask what I do.”
I nodded. I’d learned a long time ago not to ask my father—or any of his acquaintances—about their work.
“I’m a software engineer.”
I laughed, thinking he was making a joke, but his raised eyebrows stopped me. “Really?”
“Really.”
I took a few more steps inside his office. The room was light and airy and his desk, at least, looked like it was from this century. “How did that happen?”
“Four years of college.” He smiled as he tilted his head, clearly understanding that that wasn’t what I meant.
“But… didn’t your father want you to…”
“Join the family business? Yes. My brothers want that, too. But… sometimes, there’s some freedom in being the youngest child.”
That rang true, and I again thought of Isabella. My parents had doted on her, and delighted in everything she did—but maybe that was because she’d been so much more cheerful and upbeat than me.
Stefano was studying me. “Anyway, despite their wishes, here I am, spending my day coding.”
I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I nodded. I didn’t like revealing to other people—even seemingly kind ones like Stefano—how much I didn’t know. “So, if you code… couldn’t you do that in an office? A real office, I mean, like at a company?” I couldn’t imagine giving up the chance to get out there in the real world.
A shadow crossed Stefano’s face, but it didn’t detract from his boyish looks. From what I’d learned, Massimo was thirty, Carmine twenty-nine, and Stefano twenty-six. But to me, Stefano looked younger. Handsome, charming, and good-natured, but closer to my age than his brothers.
At the moment, he looked as if he were choosing his words carefully. “My family has some powerful enemies,” he said at last. “It’s best I work from home.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, but it surprised me that he too was trapped in this house. Although he surely had more freedom than I did. “I guess I’d better let you get back to work.”
His eyes flickered toward his screen, which was dark with light writing. It didn’t look much like the limited web-surfing I’d done. “Why don’t you join me for lunch at noon? Jana’s making pasta alla crudaiola. She’s an excellent cook.”
“Thanks. And yes, that breakfast was good. Is Jana Russian?”
“Polish. There are more Poles in Chicago than even in Warsaw.”
I hadn’t known that, but I was eager to get to know Jana better. She was my mom’s age, but she was a fellow woman in this house of men. And thinking of the pasta alla crudaiola, which meant pasta with raw veggies, I was reminded of my earlier statement that I liked to garden. “Can I go out back until then? To see the grounds?”
Stefano nodded, but his eyes were serious. “Just don’t go beyond the walls.”
I nodded, stepping out of his office and pulling the door closed behind me. Staying behind the walls—that was definitely a theme in my life.
4
MASSIMO
“You want me to do what?” Carmine asked, his voice a combination of disbelief and disgust. He had his back to me as he looked out over the Chicago skyline. My office was on the fiftieth floor, and normally I enjoyed the view. But today, my eyes were on my brother who, as always, looked like someone had packed far too many muscles into one man’s body.
“Just take her a few times. I’ll have Sofia put together a list of wedding dress designers for you.”
He turned, his voice clipped. “So does that make me a babysitter or a goddamn bridesmaid?”
“You’re a bodyguard—or at least that’s how you started out.” It was true that he was more than that now. He was number two in our operation, in fact. But he still cracked heads when he needed to. No matter how far you went in this kind of business, you were still only a step or two away from violence. The shoulder holster I caught a glimpse of under Carmine’s suit was evidence of that.
My brother strode over and sat opposite my desk. “Send her out with Jana. Or that chick who’s planning the wedding.”
I frowned, unable to remember the name of the wedding planner, either. That was the kind of thing my staff handled. “I’d still need to send some men with her. I’d rather you go.” For safety and for propriety. Just because I was resentful of having to get married at this stage in my life didn’t mean I wanted a bunch of goons ogling my bride.