Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“I’m beginning to get the idea, yes.”
For the first time since her arrival, she offers a genuine smile. “If there’s anything you need, and I mean this sincerely, don’t hesitate to ask. A sudden change in leadership can be construed as an opportunity for those who’d rather steal what they want than earn it. Ask me how I know.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” I hold back the rest of my thoughts on the matter rather than remind her of the grasping, greedy men in her family. Mine isn’t like that—Grandfather would never allow it, for one thing. For another, my position is uncontested. Still, I have no doubt there are plenty of assholes out there who would like to take advantage. Something I only thought I understood when Grandfather was in power. I now know it’s impossible to fully comprehend unless you’re the one sitting behind the desk, calling the shots.
As I walk her to the door, there’s one thought I can’t help but give voice to. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn by saying this, but I believe we could work together in the future. Our values seem to be in alignment.”
“One thing at a time, Mr. De Luca,” she reminds me with a bit of a teasing note in her voice. “Let’s do the world a favor by getting rid of Alvarez first.”
Nothing has ever sounded better.
11
ALICIA
I don’t know what I expected to happen today. What, was I going to find Elena right off the bat and have a conversation with her? Hell, I’m still not even sure what I would say. She would probably want to know where I’ve been, for starters. How things went, all that. If she doesn’t already know—somebody could have told her what happened, or at least the rumors they heard.
And maybe they did. Maybe she was deliberately avoiding me when our eyes met after class, and she practically ran out of the lecture hall.
She could have been in a hurry. It’s not like we made a habit of connecting after class. She has her schedule, I have mine, that kind of thing. But today was different. Today she looked surprised to see me sitting toward the back of the room, and she wasted no time avoiding me.
So now it’s going to be even more awkward trying to catch up with her. I have her number from when we had our project together, but I haven’t used it since we did our presentation last year. It would look strange if I suddenly texted her out of nowhere.
But it might look even weirder if I ever manage to pin her down since I’m never alone. I glare at the back of Paolo’s head as he drives from campus back to the townhouse. What a fucking joke. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to have an actual conversation with Elena, not when I have this goon following me around everywhere. It’s obvious something’s changed drastically from the way my life was before she sent me to the warehouse. If she’s Josef Alvarez’s niece, she’ll be able to tell why Paolo’s up my ass all the time. I’m sure she’s dealt with bodyguards before.
How am I supposed to get her to trust me?
And why am I certain before I ever step foot out of the car that my husband will not give a damn, no matter how I try to reason with him on this? It’s like swimming in the middle of a lake, fighting to keep my head above the surface while there’s an anchor tied to my ankle, pulling me down. He’s the anchor—unwilling to listen to me, making it impossible for me to succeed.
Although an anchor wouldn’t hold failure against me. That’s the difference.
He won’t be happy to know I was unable to move forward with the plan. I have to come up with a way to keep him calm and convince him there’s a way to move forward. First step: I need to stop sulking. That’s not going to get me anywhere. I can’t think if I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself.
I guess the best I can do is sit a little closer to the front of the room next time, try to catch her eye, and wave and smile like all I want is to catch up. The way I would if my life was anything close to normal right now. But I can’t overplay it either because that would look way too obvious.
Now I know what it’s like to walk through a minefield. I don’t like it very much.
“Home sweet home.” It’s one of the few things Paolo has said all day, and there’s a nasty edge to it. Like he knows how miserable I am here and how trapped. Like it’s all one big joke. I have to bite my tongue, or else I might make the mistake of reminding him his entire job is to follow me around like a puppy dog. Is that something to be proud of? Is he so much better than me?