Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I’ve never comforted anyone in my life, and it feels foreign.
Renzo clears his throat, then mutters, “We’ll wait in the living room.”
I hear my friends move to the other room to give us some privacy.
Vittoria pushes against me, and reluctantly, I take a step back. With her fingertips, she quickly wipes the tears from her face.
Her voice is strained as she answers my question, “Vito just threw me around. I fell against the liquor cabinet, and that’s when the glass panel broke, and I cut my foot. Besides that, they just trashed the living room, then left.”
It could’ve been so much worse.
“Which foot?” I demand.
“My right one,” she whispers, her eyes searching my face as if she’s trying to figure out the mysteries of life.
I take another step back before crouching, and taking hold of her right ankle, I inspect the bandaid beneath her heel.
Satisfied that it’s an injury she can easily recover from, I straighten to my full height. My eyes flit over every inch of her, and lifting a hand to her bicep, I brush a finger over one of the many bruises. “Who did this to you?”
I already have my suspicions, but I want to hear it from her.
She shakes her head. “I’m clumsy.”
My eyes narrow on her. “I kill people for lying to me.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
She wraps her arms around herself and glances between me and the entrance to the foyer. “Why are you all here?”
“Damiano told me he sent men over to beat up Giorgio.”
“Giorgio’s not here.”
I let out a deep breath. “I know. We’re just here to check on you.”
Her eyes dart to my face, and her features tighten with a fuck-ton of confusion. “W-why?”
I don’t bother lying as I answer, “You’re innocent.”
She scoots off the table and takes a step away from me before glancing in the direction of the foyer again. “Can you all leave, please?”
Nodding, I call out, “Let’s go, guys.”
When I leave the kitchen, the other four heads of the Cosa Nostra file into the foyer. Vittoria stays as far from us as the small space in the foyer will allow.
I need to get her away from Giorgio and out of this house as soon as possible.
With my eyes locked on her terrified face, I say, “I’ll see you soon, piccola cerviatta.”
At our wedding.
Stepping out of the house, I pull the front door shut behind me and follow my friends to the G-Wagon.
“Don’t kill Vito,” Damiano says after we’ve all climbed into the vehicle. “As a favor to me. He was only doing his job.”
Letting out a huff, I mutter, “Fine.”
When we get back to Damiano’s place, and I walk into the mansion, I shout, “Vito!”
Not even a second later, the man comes out of the kitchen.
“You hurt Vittoria,” I growl. Seeing his confused expression, I add, “She belongs to me.”
The emotion drains from his face, and he doesn’t even try to say something in his defense.
In our world, men die for less, so when I pull my gun from behind my back, where it’s tucked into the waistband of my pants, Vito nods and folds his hands in front of him.
“You can thank your boss that I’m not killing you.” I walk closer and, aiming at his right foot, I pull the trigger.
“Carlo,” Damiano shouts over Vito’s pain-filled cry. “Pour the bourbon.”
“After this bit of action, kicking your assess at poker is going to feel a little anti-climactic,” Dario chuckles as he follows Damiano and Franco to the entertainment room.
Renzo pats my shoulder. “Come on. One of us needs to beat his arrogant ass at poker.”
My eyes lock with Vito’s, and he quickly straightens up before saying, “Thank you, sir. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Nodding, I walk to the entertainment room, and taking a tumbler from Carlo, I down the amber liquid.
Once Vittoria is married to me, I’m killing Giorgio with my bare hands for touching her, and then I can fucking focus on my work.
Chapter 9
Angelo
Walking into the cathedral, I head down the aisle, barely taking notice of the empty pews.
Father Parisi comes out of the confession booth, and the instant his eyes land on me, he hurries toward me. “Mr. Rizzo. This is unexpected.”
I’m not a man of religion, and the walls of this building rarely see me, so I can understand why he’s surprised that I’m here.
Wanting to get out of the cathedral as quickly as possible, I mutter, “Where can we talk in private?”
“Are you here for confession?”
I let out a chuckle, and shaking my head, I say, “I’m comfortable with the idea of going to hell.”
Big Ricky stifles his laughter behind me with a fake cough.
Father Parisi looks visibly disappointed with my comment. He gestures toward a door. “We can talk in my office.”
I follow the holy man to the back of the cathedral and into his office. It’s so fucking stuffy in here it makes my skin itch.