Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Sure, she fucked up. She royally fucked up, and we both know it, but I still feel myself softening toward her.
Romeo would kick my ass and assign someone else to her if he knew how I really feel. He probably thinks he’s being merciful, allowing me time with her.
He has no idea. I didn’t, either. It’s fucking torture.
I wonder if she’s sinking into a depression. After all that’s happened, that wouldn’t surprise me at all.
I shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter how she feels. The woman means nothing to me. I’m only here to make sure she takes care of herself for our growing child, like a prison warden watching over a surrogate.
Christ.
My mind won’t rest, as I move from one thought to the next. I’m here with her for a reason, to uphold my family’s expectations and to follow through on her punishment. I know why I’m holding her here, I know it in my head… but in my heart, this is so wrong it’s painful. It’s the worst job I’ve ever had.
Romeo’s come to me and offered to station another guard with her, or an army of guards if I want them. Our men are trained well and bound by loyalty to defend and protect unto death. She’d be safe under their watchful eyes, and I’d get the space I need to begin to heal from all of this. But I won’t ever let anyone take my place. Never.
I married Angelina. That’s my child she’s carrying within her. I’m the one that will guard her, even if it kills me.
But now that she’s going to have my child, the question remains… how will we continue to strengthen the Rossi family? A child without a mother leaves a gaping hole in our plan for fortification.
And the thought of raising a child of Angelina’s without her…
“We can’t stay up here forever, Orlando,” she says on a whisper. “We can’t. We both know that.”
I turn away from her. I can’t listen to her plaintive whispers or reason with her. If I do, then it feels like we’re a couple again, and we can’t go there.
“What if…” her voice trails off as she worries her lip. She sits in nothing but a little tank top and shorts, staring out the window that overlooks the ocean. Here in Gloucester, apart from everyone and everything, we’re practically on an island. The exact opposite of what it’s like at our home in Boston. A part of me wishes that wasn’t the case, that we could be among the hustle and bustle of the city as a form of distraction.
She’s safer here, though. At least I tell myself that.
“What if what?”
“What if we escaped?” she whispers. She won’t look at my eyes, but I won’t allow her to make suggestions like this without owning them fully. I walk over to her and reach for her face, dragging her gaze to mine.
“I’m not the prisoner here.”
She doesn’t look away or even blink. “Aren’t you, though?”
“Angelina…” I love her real name. It feels real and authentic and fitting, like honey on my lips.
It’s the first time I’ve ever considered the fact that she may have a point, but it makes me angry.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Do you have free will?” she says in that steely voice that doesn’t waver, doesn’t back down in the face of her own safety. “You didn’t marry who you wanted to. You don’t behave the way you want to. You don’t stay here because you choose it but because you feel you have no choice.”
Rage boils within me, hot and furious. My hands clench harder on either side of her face, and she winces but doesn’t push me away, doesn’t even blink. I release her because I don’t trust myself not to hurt her.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She doesn’t. She wasn’t raised in the mafia. She doesn’t know the vital connection of family that runs through me like blood through my veins. I live, breathe, and die by the conviction to love them, to protect them, and turning my back on them to pursue my own relationship would be the height of narcissism and selfishness. I saw what that did to my father. I wouldn’t do it to anyone. I couldn’t.
“Orlando,” she says gently. “You have your own family now. Me. Our baby.” Her voice cracks at the end, breaking my heart.
“I know,” I whisper. “I know. But I have family here, too. My brothers, my sisters, my mother. We all took oaths, Angelina.” I draw in a deep breath. “Look at me.”
Her eyes come to mine, and they’re filled with tears. She knew when she asked me this what I would say. She knew what my answer would be. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.
She put me in this position. It’s because of her that we’re here to begin with.