Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
He nodded. “Great investment for time saving.”
“Yep. Less than thirty minutes door-to-door. The casino has a helipad now.”
“She’d love that.”
My phone rang, and I glanced at the number and frowned. “Nonna?” I asked. “What is it?”
“When are you coming home?”
“I work late tonight.”
“Something is wrong with Effie.”
I was on my feet without thinking. “Is she ill?” I asked.
“No. She was busy all day unpacking some boxes in your room. I found her outside, white and shaken. She said she was fine, but she looked anything but. She said she was tired and didn’t want dinner. Something is wrong, Roman.”
I glanced at Aldo, who nodded. “I’m on my way.”
“Good.”
EFFIE
I stared at the small pile of boxes. I wanted a certain sweater, and I knew it had been on the back of my chair. I hoped Roman’s men had packed it. It was dreary today and chillier than it had been, and I decided it was a good day to sort out a few boxes.
The past while had been unexpectedly tranquil. I loved the estate. Nonna and I got along so well, and she bent over backward to ensure I understood I was the mistress of the house, not her. But I only laughed when she would defer to me, and I insisted she knew better. We gardened and walked through the lovely vineyards every day. We cooked and baked. Vi came over, and we sat on the patio and laughed, sipping wine or coffee. I had never known such a decadent lifestyle. Not having to work. Roman had given me a credit card, black and elegant, and told me to use it freely. He had also handed me a debit and bank card, giving me the passwords to both. “I put money in for you. Tell me when you need more,” he had instructed.
I had gone online with the new laptop he had gifted me and looked at the account, staring at the screen and the fifty-thousand-dollar balance. I was sure that was more money than I could spend in a year. The day we went shopping, I used the debit card and bought a few little things I needed. My only big expense was a tie I thought he would like. He was fascinated with my eye color, and I saw a beautiful violet-blue tie with a black pattern woven into it and bought it for him.
He loved it.
What he did with it still made me blush.
As much as I loved it here, my husband was an enigma to me. Roman insisted he was incapable of romantic love, yet he displayed every trait of falling for me. Flowers and gifts showed up all the time. He texted and called. Teased me. Kissed and touched me every chance he got. Brought me to the casino some evenings, simply to see me. Made love to me. But when I tried to discuss feelings with him, he shut down. I decided to leave it. He reminded me of a stray dog we’d found once in the backyard. Terrified and skinny, he wouldn’t come close, but he didn’t leave either. It took us weeks of patience to get him to trust us. More for him to be comfortable with being close. Marianne had written him off, furious he didn’t instantly love her. I sat on the grass day after day, offering him scraps, until one day he came to me. He was my companion until he died, and he never liked Marianne, choosing to ignore her. She, in turn, hated him. He was the only thing I ever had I didn’t have to share.
I had to wait for Roman to come to me. Nagging him would do no good except to push him away. I had to be patient. I was certain I would be well rewarded when he was ready.
I sighed as I lifted the lid to the first box. I was still conflicted over Marianne’s death. Glad to know she could no longer hurt me or steal what I worked so hard to have, yet sad to think she had died violently, never really knowing happiness. She was always too busy vying to be the center of attention instead of enjoying the fact that she usually was. She always hated it if she thought someone paid more notice to me or even our mom than to her. I never understood it.
The bottom line was that Roman was right. He had said she was jealous of me and would never love me the way I wanted her to.
I stifled the voice that told me neither would he.
Because I already knew I was in love with him. It was complicated and messy. I knew he would never return my love, but I had his affection. His ring. His vow. His eternal protection.
I would be satisfied with that.