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)
“Exactly,” Massimo said sternly. Then he glanced over my shoulder, his expression softening as his gaze returned to me. “Except him.”
He led me over to where my father was talking with a few other men. “Someone wants to dance with you, sir.” He put my hand in my dad’s, almost like a reversal of what would happen after my father walked me down the aisle tomorrow.
My father smiled at me and excused himself. We walked to the middle of the dance floor and started moving in time with the music. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but I just couldn’t.
Instead, I let him guide me slowly around the dance floor.
The song ended, and he looked down at me with a frown. “What’s wrong, Leila?” He wiped a tear off my cheek with his thumb. “Do you really dislike him that much?”
“No,” I said automatically, then amended my answer. “I don’t know.” I looked around at the people in their fancy eveningwear. I knew very few of them. And very few of them cared about me as a person. I was just Massimo’s bride. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
He studied my face for a moment and then nodded.
We ended up in his car in the parking lot, his men and Massimo’s likely milling around, just out of sight. My dad studied me again. “What is it? Did your mother never give you the ... talk?”
It took me a long moment to figure out what he meant. Was he referring to the talk about sex? I almost laughed, even though she hadn’t. “I’m good,” I assured my father, and he looked relieved. Then the brief moment of humor immediately fled. “It’s Massimo. No, it’s ... it’s everything.”
“Talk to me about it.”
Did I want to open this can of worms? But I had to know. “Back in New York ... those ports you control ... what do you receive there? What do you bring into the country?”
My father sucked in a breath, looking older somehow. I’d never asked him anything like that before. “Allegra, you shouldn’t ask about those things. You shouldn’t know about those things.”
“I know. But ... it’s part of the family I grew up with, and part of the family I’m marrying into.”
“It’ll be easier on you if you don’t know.”
If he knew how bad these last two weeks had been, he might not say that. “Just tell me, do people arrive there ... involuntarily? Women, I mean?”
His jaw dropped as he looked at me in the dim light. “No. No, never.”
Our eyes met, and I looked into his. As far as I could tell, he was telling the truth. I nodded, feeling another tear fall. Was it possible to cry tears of relief?
“Don’t mistake me, though, little Leila. What we do—it isn’t pretty. It isn’t good. And some of the things I’ve allowed to happen have bigger repercussions. Once I sell something, I can’t control what it’s used for. Do you understand?”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure, but he was probably talking about guns, which was a sobering thought. His men couldn’t exactly utilize background checks when they moved merchandise like that. “I thought that maybe Massimo partnered up with you to expand that side of his business.”
My father was silent for a moment. “So he told you.”
My heart pounded painfully in my chest. “So he does do that? He’s involved in human trafficking?” I wanted to leap out of the car and run down the street, but my muscles felt heavy, like they weighed twice as much.
“His father was. That’s a big part of how they earned their money. When Massimo took over, he ended that. He angered a lot of his peers in the Chicago area, because he threatened the status quo. Threatened their livelihoods. He reached out to me to find new ways of generating income that didn’t involve innocent people. Didn’t he tell you that?”
“No,” I whispered softly, trying to take it all in. Massimo wasn’t the monster I’d feared he might be—but his father had been. What must it have been like, growing up with a man that evil? I couldn’t even imagine.
My father put his arm around me, and I leaned against his shoulder, crying.
“I’m sorry this is so hard, Leila.”
“Me too.”
“Do you think that you can somehow make the best of it? Your mother and I did. At least I think we have.”
“I think you have, too,” I said softly. I was still crying, and my mind just refused to work. Instead of thinking the situation through, emotions took over. Relief. Sadness. Uncertainty. But overall—solace that none of the men I cared about, not my father, Massimo, Carmine, or Stefano, had done anything that horrific.
My dad patted my shoulder. “There are no good men in this line of work. But if there were such a thing, your Massimo would be one of them.”