Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
He was a Cavalieri, after all.
They all had what I’d call a smoldering, violent reputation.
Unlike the regular mafia families, there was nothing overt or out in the open about their presence. Their legendary family name allowed them to hide behind an air of sophistication and civility.
Being worth billions didn’t hurt either.
Pivoting in another direction, I continued to search all the slutty Pierrot clowns until I spotted Antonia.
I dodged under outstretched arms as people shouted, raised their fists, and playfully hissed. This was all in good fun, as Peppe Nappa's supposed crimes were read aloud. In reality, these crimes were the hidden crimes and scandals of local officials from the past year.
In a daring display, Antonia had her legs wrapped around a large man dressed as Il Capitano. He had her bent backward to indulge himself in licking her breasts, which threatened to spill out of her tight corset.
Approaching the pair, I tapped Antonia on the shoulder. “We need to talk.”
She glared at me before snaking her arms around her companion's neck. “What?” she cried out over the din.
I shouted back. “We need to talk! It’s urgent!”
With an exaggerated huff, she opened her legs and slid down his length. Then, grabbing the bottle of wine from his grasp, she turned and rubbed her ass against his crotch. “What is it, Ella? God, you can be such a freaking killjoy.” She took a sloppy swig of the wine.
From the looks of it, she’d already had way too much fun. She had wasted an hour carefully applying her sad clown makeup, only to have it smudged and smeared all over her face. Her eyes were glassy from what I hoped was only alcohol but was probably something stronger, and she swayed on her too tall high-heeled boots.
Ignoring the hurtful comment, I said, “You have to leave. Matteo is here.”
She paused in raising the bottle to her lips again, frowning. “Who?”
“Matteo Cavalieri. Your fiancé.”
She shrugged. “Who cares? You said you were going to take care of all that.”
Fuck.
My contact.
My head swiveled as I searched the crowd again, then turned my attention back to Antonia. My contact would have to wait. First, I had to get her out of here.
“I said I was working on it. You have to leave before he finds me—you—us.” Again.
She turned her back on me and stuck her tongue out suggestively to her partner who, judging by the bulge in his costumed pantaloons, was enjoying the attention. “You’re overreacting, Ella. It’s not like he knows I’m here.”
Oh, he definitely does. Sort of.
I circled around the two of them and tried to get her attention again before she could once more get her legs wrapped around his waist.
I gestured with my head toward her man. “Weren’t you two supposed to get married? That would solve the issue.”
The man dropped Antonia on her ass. “Huh?”
Antonia shouted, “What the fuck?” up at him. Then kicked him in the shin with her high-heeled boots.
He hopped back, grabbing his shin. “Fuck you, Antonia. Why’d you have to fucking kick me?”
I helped my sister to her feet.
She brushed off her ass and fluffed her hair before scowling at me. “He wishes. Really, Ella. Manfredi is not my boyfriend. He’s just the guy I fool around with while my boyfriend is… busy.”
This just keeps getting better and better. I assumed Manfredi would marry her and help my sister escape, since they were always together.
Focu ‘ranni! What a mess.
If we both didn’t live at home with our father, I would have learned this important bit of information sooner. Unfortunately we did, which meant we were rarely alone and always assumed we were under surveillance.
Something I learned from my mother—before.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Fino, my contact. “I don’t have time to argue with you, Antonia. Go home now. I’ll see you there as soon as I can.”
Following Fino’s lead, I made my way to the other side of the central fountain. “Where have you been? I’ve been here for over two hours, waiting.”
He raised his finger and pointed to the parade float. “Wait. This is my favorite part.”
With great fanfare, the bandleader declared a death sentence on the effigy. It was already listing to the side on the parade float because of the wine sprays soaking its worn clothes and straw.
The crowd cheered as the effigy was set ablaze by a masked official. Everyone danced around the makeshift bonfire to the band's rendition of another tarantelle.
My fist twisted in the ends of the kerchief I was holding tight under my jaw. “Fino, I don’t have time for this. We need to talk. Now.”
This night was like herding cocaine-crazed squirrels with their tails on fire.
Finally, the tall, spindly man turned to me. Dressed in yet another Il Capitano costume, its brightly colored uniform hung on his thin shoulders the way it would on a coat rack.