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)
“There,” Rosa says, as a silver Mercedes swings in front. “Get in.”
Behind us I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and an oily voice. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Salvatore
I should be with my wife. I should be walking around inside with my gorgeous woman on my arm, playing the part of newlywed Don while the music plays and my friends and enemies ply us with wine and gifts. Instead, I’m brooding in our theater, drinking whiskey while I ride the tail of a high.
Jesus.
I don’t know what to do with the knowledge that my wife’s family was responsible for my father’s death. I want to kick Romeo’s ass. I don’t give a shit that he was a teen. But most of all, I’m mad at myself for not realizing the most obvious thing from the beginning.
I should’ve known.
How can I go on and pretend all is well when it isn’t?
How can I be anything but a coward if I don’t avenge my father’s death?
Would anyone have any respect for me if they knew what I did?
So many questions. So many twists and turns. And for once in a really, really long time, I’m fucking sick of living this life of betrayal and angst, wealth and sin, lies and manipulation.
And Marialena. God.
I never planned on loving her. She was only supposed to be a means to an end, a pawn in the game we play daily. She would’ve been roped into a loveless marriage sooner or later, I reasoned. Why not to someone who would lavish her with wealth and not abuse her?
As if that makes anything fucking better.
God.
No matter how I roll the dice, I lose. I fucking lose. There’s no winning any of this.
I finish off my drink and get to my feet when the door opens and two guards come in with Cristiano in their lead.
“You gotta get your ass out there,” Cristiano says, his face a mask of concern. I don’t trust him. I feel my spine stiffen immediately.
“Oh?” I don’t like him telling me I “have to” do anything. “Why’s that?”
“Because your pretty little wife’s trying to run away,” he says. “Lucky for you, she’s left a trail of breadcrumbs.”
What?
I grab his shirt front and yank him straight off the floor. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Dunno what her deal is, but they brought a car around and tried to get her out of here.”
“Did you ward her off?”
“Of course I did,” he says with a lewd grin. “Bring her in!” he yells over his shoulder. I drop him.
One of our guards brings Marialena in. Her hair’s askew and her dress is torn. There’s a smear of lipstick across her cheek, and one of her lips is swollen. I clench my fists in rage. I don’t care what she did, I’ll make whoever hurt her suffer before they die.
“Don’t put me anywhere near him,” she says, turning her face away from me. “Let me go!”
A cold detachment settles into my chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I don’t mean the question to come out as a snarl. I want to snatch her to me and lock her up, then find out whoever hurt her and punish them.
“Bring the others in,” Cristiano says. They drag Mario and Romeo in next. They’re cuffed and obviously furious.
“You played us, Capo,” Romeo says.
I stare at him, trying to get a hold of my fury, trying to process the accusation. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one who’s trying to take my wife from me.” I try to temper my rage. Something’s not adding up here. The Rossis wouldn’t have let me take her, wed her, fuck her, only to come and try to take her home again. Only a fool would do something so blatantly stupid, and Romeo Rossi is no fool.
“Sit them down. We’ll talk in a minute,” I tell my guard. I jerk my chin at Marialena. She won’t look at me, silent tears falling down her cheeks.
My voice is deadly calm, almost a whisper. “First things first. Who tore her dress?” I ask.
Silence.
I pull out my gun and cock it, put it at Cristiano’s temple. His buggy eyes narrow on me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Who. Fucking. Tore. Her. Dress?” I ask again.
One of the guards raises a shaky hand. “She tried to get away. Cristiano told me to restrain her. She wouldn’t cooperate. When I did, the dress—”
He falls to the floor with a bullet between his eyes. Direct hit to the t-spot.
“I was merciful on him because he was following Cristiano’s orders,” I say coldly to the rest of them. “Who bloodied her lip? Tell me, or I’ll line every one of you up and kill you execution style until I have an answer.”
Another guard I don’t know starts to cry. Fucking bastard. I wouldn’t want him working for me knowing he’d fall apart like this anyway.