Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Dante nods at his boss. “You got it.”
He gestures for me to follow. But before I can take a step away, Massimo grabs my hand. “I love you.”
And before I can stop myself, the words slip from my lips. “I love you too.”
He lets my hand go, and I begin to walk away with Dante.
But fuck it.
I’m not done with Jules.
I stomp back to where Nico and some rather rough-looking men are holding her. She’s on her feet now and gives me another one of her smug smiles, and I punch her so hard in the face I manage to dislodge a tooth. And probably break one of my own knuckles.
But, man, it’s liberating.
When she falls the ground, I lean down so we are eye level. “That’s for making me sell all my Gucci.”
44
BIANCA
I’m already in the car when I hear the gunshot.
Dante tries to stop me, but I’m out the door so fast, lightning couldn’t catch me.
I run through the parking lot and up the stairs of the gazebo where Jules lies dead on the floor, a bullet wound beneath her chin seeping blood onto the floorboards, and a gun lying by her left hand.
“No!” I scream, running toward her.
Massimo and Nico swing around, and Massimo grabs me, but I fling him off and drop down beside Jules. Her eyes are half-lidded, staring upward, and blood spatter pools on her cheeks. What is left of her mouth is open, and her shattered teeth are glazed with blood.
“Who did this?” I cry.
“She grabbed my gun,” one of Massimo’s men says. I’ve never seen him before. He’s young, and he’s gone gray in the face, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s never shot anyone before or if he’s telling the truth, and Jules grabbed his gun and shot herself, and now he’s in hot water with his boss.
I rise to my feet and turn to Massimo. “Is that true? Did she do this, or did you have him kill her because that’s what you wanted?”
Despite the pain of the bullet in his shoulder, he puts his hands on my arms. “She grabbed his gun, Bianca. She didn’t want to go to jail. She was desperate, and when she saw the opportunity, she took it. You have my word.”
I shake him off. “I’m sorry, but your word means very little to me right now.”
“I can’t make you believe me. But it’s the truth. I made you a promise that I’d let her live, and I was going to do it your way.”
He looks pained, and I know it’s more than his shoulder that’s hurting. But I can’t let that break through the wall I’ve very suddenly erected around my heart. Let him hurt. Let him know how it feels to hurt right down to his bones.
“I know I have to do everything your way now,” he says. “And I will. But you need to go home and let us take care of her.”
“Don’t make her disappear,” I say, the enormity of the situation seeping through the thin veil of shock. “At least let her have a funeral.”
He nods and despite my hurt telling me not to, I believe him.
Dante drives me back to Massimo’s loft. But I don’t stay. I quickly stuff all of my belongings into my overnight bag and leave fifteen minutes later. Any longer, and I’d fall in a tearful heap on the floor, driving myself crazy with memories of what has gone down in the last twelve hours.
I need to keep moving forward and get away from Massimo.
Outside, I hail a cab and give him the address of the only person I want to see right now.
When I arrive, the front door opens, and Eve ushers me inside, pulling me into a hug.
“Are you okay?”
I dump my bags at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will be. Come on, I’ll open a bottle of wine, and you can tell me what my dumbass stepbrother did.”
It’s just after midnight when a loud banging on the door wakes us.
“Okay, okay, geez,” Eve exclaims on the way to the door. “I have neighbors, you know.”
I follow her down the stairs, tying my robe as I reach the door behind her.
She opens it and a very unkempt and emotional Massimo is on the other side, swaying where he stands.
One arm is in a sling and he’s holding a half-empty bottle of scotch.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
But his glazed eyes are fixed firmly on me.
“I need to talk to you,” he says, his words slightly slurred. “You need to know how much I fucking love you, and I’m not going to let you leave me.”
I fold my arms. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. You and me, we’re meant to be together. We make sense. My world is fucked up and dark, but you being in it makes it all worth it.”