Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 86325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
"Thank you," Father nods. "And I'll let you know if I find out anything else. Keep close to the girl, Ryder. It might benefit us all."
"Of course, Father." I take the last puff on my cigar and stub it out in the ashtray before leaving his office. My mind is swimming with a thousand thoughts, all revolving around the mafia principessa I can't have.
What is Nicoletta hiding? Whether she wants me to find out or not, I'm going to get to the bottom of her game. Nobody fools the Bernardis, least of all a pretty girl like her and a conniving, manipulating Papa like Gustavo Carlucci. No matter my attraction to the girl, I'll be damned if I allow them to make fools out of the Bernardis.
We've proven our worth a thousand times over now. We belong in Sicily, we belong in Palermo, we belong on the fucking mafia map.
And a gluttonous bastard like Gustavo Carlucci will not be the end of us.
9
Nicoletta
Years ago
"Look! The field is full of daisies!" My best friend runs into the grass, her grin wide as she picks a daisy out of the ground. "Do you want to make some flower crowns?"
I nod enthusiastically. In our pretty pink dresses, we sit down in the grass, not caring whether it streaks our outfits. I know my friend's papa won't care, he's so loving and caring, he would do anything for his little girl. But my papa... he's nothing like my best friend's. On second thought, I carefully crouch on the ground so I don't ruin my dress, which papa never fails to remind me cost a fortune – a fortune we can't afford.
We carefully weave the daisies into sweet little flower crowns, placing them on each other's heads. My friend looks beautiful, like something out of a fairytale.
Often, people will mistake us for sisters. You have to look really close to see the subtle differences between us – like my hair being a paler, silver blonde, unlike her honeyed-corn locks. The fact that her eyes are green while mine are blue. We're the same height, have the same pale complexion and even talk similarly since we have lessons together. I've always been grateful to my best friend. I suppose I shouldn't call her that – after all, she's so much higher up in the hierarchy than I am... Papa would be mortified if he knew how familiar we are with one another. That we sometimes sneak into each other's beds, when the nights get too lonely and we miss our mothers. That we hold hands. That we call each other sorelle, sisters.
But in the mafia world we live in, girls like us find comfort in the strangest things. Perhaps it's not unexpected we've built this friendship. Maybe it was our fathers' plan all along.
"You look like a princess," my best friend tells me with her eyes wide open. "A real princess."
"Don't be silly." I flush and take down the crown she's placed on my hair. "You're the princess, not me."
"We're both princesses," she beams happily, but I can only muster a half-smile.
She may believe that, but I know it's not the truth. We live different lives. Before I came here, I was nothing – a nobody. But now I have it all, and it's all thanks to my best friend. And instead of thanking her, I'm consumed by guilt now, because I know I can never repay her, can never give her back all the kindnesses she's paid to me over the years.
I feel tears springing to my eyes and wipe them with the back of my hand, hoping my friend won't notice. But her eyes are sharp and miss nothing. She reaches for my hand across the grass, gently squeezing.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I offer a brave smile but I know she sees right through me. Best friends just do. I sigh before opening up a little more. "I feel like I'm not good enough for you."
"Whatever do you mean?" She kisses my hand but I pull it back, unable to bear the weight of her affection. It's just another weight on my chest, another thing I have to fight against because Papa told me not to get attached, even though I don't know why, he doesn't want my friendship with this girl to go further. "Please, share with me. I want to help. I don't want my best friend to be sad."
"You can't help." I pat her hand with a sorrowful expression. "It's just... it's my papa."
"Is he putting ideas into your head again?" She scrunches her face up with displeasure.
I shrug, not wanting to embarrass my papa. He doesn't do it to be cruel... I think. "It's just... I know I can't live up to you. You're everything I'll never be."
"Why does that matter?" She seems eager to change my mind, but I doubt she'll be able to do it. After all, Papa has spent my whole life filling my head with the thought that I'm not good enough. "You know we're best friends. I'll do anything for you. Anything to keep you in my life."