Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
He sneers at her like he smells something awful. “Is that what you really think, or are you parroting back his words like a pretty trained bird?”
“It’s the truth, Mr. Calimeris. Whether we like it or not, my father is gone and the association is finished.”
Yiannis goes quiet. I squeeze her leg again and she sits back, arms crossed, glaring at both of us. I let her words sink in and have their intended effect though, patiently letting Yiannis consider her plea. Finally, I nudge her aside, and we stand up.
“There’s a better way,” I say, staring down at the angry Greek. “We can work together.”
“We’ve never needed you Italians before. Just because you married one of our daughters doesn’t mean we need you now.”
“Think about it.” I turn away, and we leave together. Outside, the sun is bright and warm, and cars roll past slowly. I feel eyes on us, dangerous men watching from the shadows.
I take her hand in mine and pull her along, walking fast to put a block or two between us and that diner, before I turn her on her.
“Before you yell—”
“Did you mean it?” I stare into her eyes and take her other hand in mine. Her cheeks turn pink as she blinks back in surprise. “What you said to him, did you mean it?”
“I think so,” she says softly, chewing on her lip the way she does when she’s scared and uncertain. I tilt her chin up and make her look in my eyes.
“Because you’re right. If we work with the Greeks, we’ll all profit. If we fight—” I trail off and let her put it together.
She pulls her eyes away and I know that’s as far as I’m getting today.
I release her hands and begin walking back toward the car parked another block down, but she doesn’t follow. I look back and she’s standing there, one arm across her chest holding her opposite elbow.
“I’ll help,” she says in a quiet voice. “I don’t have to be window dressing.”
“If you’re going to help, flower, then you’d better stop acting like I’m an enemy. Are you still biding your time?”
She glances up with some panic in her expression. We stare at each other for a long moment and she doesn’t answer.
I laugh and turn away. “Come on then. Try not to stab me on the back on the way home.”
Chapter 14
Kacia
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Luca stands in the doorway to the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. Water drips down his finely chiseled chest down into the grooves between his abs, disappearing into that beautiful V.
I blink a few times and shake my head to get my mind under control. “You better not be about to drop that towel.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, you’re not that lucky.”
“I’m serious. If you drop that towel, I’ll scream.”
“I promise, flower, if I drop this towel, you most definitely will scream.” He walks over to his bureau and opens the top drawer. “But this is your surprise.”
He tosses something small and black over. It bounces onto the bed and I lean forward to grab what has to be the oldest phone I’ve ever seen.
It’s scratched up and nicked in a hundred places, but the numbers work and when I flip the top open, it lights up and says it has signal. “Is this real?”
“It’s very real,” he says. “That’s a burner and it’s extremely encrypted, so don’t lose it. I need it back when you’re done.”
“This is like some super-secret mafia spy shit?”
“Basically, yes.”
“That’s actually pretty cool.” I grin at him as he walks over and sits at the edge of the bed. I’m extremely aware that he’s mostly naked, very wet, and looking at me like he wants to rip the tank top from my body.
“We need rules. You can’t call anyone from the Florakis association. No family, no crime lords, nobody.”
“There’s nobody I’d want to call.” You killed the last person I cared about. “Only my friends.”
“Friends are fine, but you can’t tell them where you are. You can’t tell them about me and my family.”
“What am I supposed to say then? I’ve been gone for three months, I’m sure they’re worried.”
“Come up with something.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
“Enjoy yourself.” He stands and walks back to the bathroom. “If you’d like to see me drop the towel now, feel free to follow.”
“No thanks.”
He smirks and closes the door behind him.
I lie in bed and stare at the phone. It represents so much to me right now—freedom, a connection back to my old life, proof that I exist beyond this room and the men that want to use me. But most of all, it’s a way to finally talk to someone that cares about me for me, not because I’m the daughter of a crime lord.