Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Davide’s leaning against the doorframe with a shotgun on his shoulder. Emilio’s next to him, casually holding an assault rifle. There are a few more of their crew, all of them armed with long guns, each dressed in black Kevlar and looking like they’re ready for a fight. The men Dad sent to invade my house don’t come any closer, and the young one even holds up his hands.
I collapse, breathing hard, and gently set Emily down on a chair.
“I think you boys should leave,” Davide says, stepping forward. He pumps the shotgun. It’s really dramatic, but not necessary. “You don’t want trouble.”
“Don Alessandro sent us,” the bigger of the soldiers says. I notice that his backup is already starting to inch away. “We’re just following orders. Nobody’s supposed to get hurt.”
“Then you should keep it that way.” Davide casually aims the gun at him. “Turn around and start walking before I kill you.”
It’s not an empty threat. Everyone in the organization knows my brother and they’re well aware of his bloody reputation. The guy takes a few backward steps, his hands rising higher, before he turns and starts jogging away. The whole group of them scatters to the far end of the oasis and disappears down the sidewalk.
Davide turns to me, grinning. “That was fun. You should get into a fight with Dad more often.”
“The oasis guards didn’t stop them,” I say very quietly, staring down the block. There are men on the roofs, men at the corners, men all over the place, and none of them made a move to interfere. “They knew. Dad warned them.”
Davide’s expression clouds. “We’ll work it out.”
I shake my head and go to Emily, making sure she’s okay, as the whole group moves into the relative safety of the house.
Chapter 37
Emily
Stefania checks out my ankle upstairs in her office. The entire first two floors of the house are completely open, not a single wall to be seen, which was a little disconcerting at first. But the third floor is sectioned off into a few smaller rooms with comfortable chairs and couches and an enormous wooden executive desk.
“I don’t think it’s broken, but I got my medical degree on Google,” she says, prodding at the swelling. “But I think if you can move around, it’s probably just sprained.”
“I think you’re right. I just rolled it when I landed weird, that’s all.” I lean my head back and sigh. I have my foot up on an ottoman and I’m trying not to look at all the stuff she has filling the room. Lots of fancy books fill the shelves and photographs of city scenes cover the walls. I recognize the famous LOVE Park sculpture from Philadelphia in one of those, so I figure they’re all from her home town.
“Davide built this for me early on in our relationship,” she comments as she rifles through a drawer in her desk. “I found the whole super-open floor plan thing a little bit weird and couldn’t get used to it.”
“What’s with that, anyway?”
She comes up grinning with a black ankle brace in one hand. “Ah-ha, I knew I had one. I sprained my ankle on the porch steps last year and Mr. Overprotective forced me to wear this for a week. I think you actually need it though.”
I thank her and slip it on as she explains that Davide’s got issues with enclosed spaces and so he tries to keep his home as open as possible. She sits down next to me and puts an arm across my shoulders, which feels really nice because right about now I need a little piece of normalcy. Simon, Davide, and all the other mafia guys I don’t recognize are downstairs talking strategy, and we were banished upstairs.
“How come you’re not freaking out?” I ask her, genuinely curious, because I’m barely holding it together at the moment. A bunch of brutal, scary guys just broke down my front door and tried to kidnap me and my husband, which didn’t feel great, and we had to be rescued by her husband and his posse of armed buddies. Not exactly a normal day so far.
“I know Alessandro,” she says softly, staring over toward the window with a pensive frown. “He’s going through some stuff right now, but he’s a good man. He loves his kids. I don’t think he’d really hurt any of them.”
I chew on that for a second. “But he might hurt me.”
She glances over and says nothing, and that’s all the answer I need. I lean back against the couch and squeeze my eyes shut.
I was the target. Not Simon, but me. Which makes sense, his father doesn’t want me in the picture anymore, so what better way than to shoot me in the head and bury me at the bottom of the lake? Once I’m gone then Simon can marry that other girl and everything can go back to being normal for this family.