Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I swallow a bite of crust. “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"
“What came first, the chicken or the egg?” she quips.
My mind is still on what she said about love. She does love everything. But does she love everyone?
I slide a slice of pizza onto her plate and let her feast. “You behaved yourself,” I say with an approving nod. “You’ve earned your dessert.”
This earns me a squeal when she claps her hands. “Oooh, my favorite part,” she says in a breathy whisper. “Are you going to, like, feed it to me or something?”
“I’ve got a beautiful wife in a robe in front of me. What do you think?”
“I think you want me to strip,” she says, her eyes on mine. Her voice drops to a seductive register. I swallow hard. “I think you want my hands in my lap. And I think you want to feed me that chocolate bite by bite and maybe do some other wicked things with it while we’re at it.”
My heart soars at her words, at the knowledge that she understands me, while at the same time, a warning bell clangs in my mind.
I don’t know how I’ll keep myself aloof and unattached from Marialena.
I don’t know how I’ll listen to her siren song and not crash my ship upon the rocks.
“And I think you’re a fast learner, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marialena
I wake from a troubling dream whose details fade the moment I wake. I’m tangled in sheets and painted with perspiration. I blink in the quiet, dark room and look around me. Why are the sheets tangled about me like this?
I look around. Salvatore isn’t here.
It’s the fourth day on the island. We’ve done nothing but have incredible sex, and lots of it, eaten so much delicious food it ought to be a crime, and walked on the beach in bare feet. It’s been lazy and decadent and everything a honeymoon should be. I’ve wondered a few times if this is the only part of marriage to Salvatore I’ll enjoy, but the eternal optimist in me can’t help but hope. Still…
We go home tomorrow, and I wonder what life after this looks like. Salvatore seems restless, as if he can’t allow himself to be idle for too long without a purpose. And I know the way mob life goes. There’s always another war to fight, always another battle, always something lurking around the corner. Though he’s nearly invincible and filthy rich, the payoff of it all is, he can hardly expend any time enjoying his wealth or privilege.
I wonder where he is. And again, I wonder how he’ll be when the demands of his job and role take precedence over feeding me cheesecake and giving me orgasms.
Will he resume his position as acting Don and ignore me?
Will his mother throw a wrench into things and force us to find another place to live?
Will I be able to cut it as a newlywed?
My family’s reached out to me intermittently, but Salvatore is a jealous lover. My responses have been brief. I hope they know that these days of being a newlywed don’t allow for much time to text. I’m doing everything I can to learn what it means to be a member of the Capo family.
I miss my own family so badly, sometimes I have to excuse myself and have a quick cry. It helps. If Salvatore notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Ack, of course he notices. He notices everything. It seems as if the power of observation is one of his many superpowers.
I’m glad he doesn’t ask questions. He’s been more doting than I expected, if I’m honest. I figured after consummating our marriage the first night, he’d probably leave me to the beach and sunbathing while he did his work, but it hasn’t exactly been like that. He’s spent way more time with me than I expected. We’re actually getting to know each other.
I’ve seen glimpses of the scary man he can be. I’ve heard the low rumble of the monster’s growl.
I overheard a conversation in Italian the night before last when he ordered someone questioned. “Use any means necessary. Yes, even that.” My imagination had a hell of a time conjuring up images of “that.” Then yesterday, when we were walking on the beach, I tripped. Salvatore quickly caught my elbow to steady me, but one of the guards flanking us caught me at the same time. I froze, knowing that none of his guards are allowed to touch me without a very good reason.
He excused himself from me. Escorted the guard, who looked as if he were being taken by the Grim Reaper himself, back to the hotel. I heard the guard pleading in Italian, begging forgiveness. Salvatore didn’t reply. I haven’t seen the guard since.