Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Nothing. I just… I was starting to feel like a prisoner. And I needed to leave. So I kind of… tricked my guards and ran off.”
“Okay, we are going to circle back to that, because, quite frankly, it sounds like an action movie. But, nope. You’re not fooling me. This isn’t your ‘I was starting to feel like a prisoner’ voice. Something else is up.”
“How would you know? I’ve never had to use my ‘I was starting to feel like a prisoner’ voice before.”
“Because I know you. And I know when you sound like you’re going to cry. Which you do. So, spill. I mean, you can do it now,” she said when I hesitated. “Or you can do it over margaritas later. But we both know margs make you even more emotional. You’ll be a blubbering mess. Might as well tell me now, when you have at least the hope of not sobbing about it.”
She was right about that.
“Things just got… complicated.”
“Complicated,” she repeated, clicking her tongue as I heard her heels click across the floor, then silence. Like she’d been walking somewhere for privacy before bursting out, “You fucked the mafia guy, didn’t you?”
My eyes squeezed shut as I admitted, “Yes.”
“Oh, my God. I mean, damn, good for you. That man just oozes sex. How was it?”
How did I explain this part?
Amazing.
Yet terrible.
“It was the best sex I think I’ve ever had,” I admitted.
“Of course it was,” Lauren agreed. “But?” she asked, sensing that one existed.
“But… he was really cold about it both times,” I told her.
“I… I guess that tracks. I mean, I can’t imagine mafia guys are all touchy-feely. He’s probably never even had a woman stay over before. Their world seems kind of cold and hard.”
That was true.
I’d told myself that more than a few times.
But knowing that didn’t really make me feel any better about it. It didn’t ease the sting of something that felt a hell of a lot like rejection.
“Okay, listen. Go into my room. Have a good soak. Use a face mask. Take a nap. Pamper yourself. I will bring home a metric ton of food. We will stuff our faces and talk this shit out, okay?”
God, I loved her.
“Okay,” I agreed, feeling a little lighter already.
I did exactly what she suggested, bathing, pampering, then napping in her guest room.
When I woke up, disoriented from vivid dreams of Cosimo, Lauren still hadn’t made it home, despite it being dark outside already.
I didn’t worry about her.
I mean, this was Lauren. The only person I knew who was more of a workaholic than my grandfather. And Cosimo, for that matter. She was determined to make an amazing life for herself, and that required her to sacrifice a lot of her free time. I couldn’t expect her to put all that aside just because I was crashing with her temporarily.
When six turned to seven, I felt anxiety starting to work its way up my spine.
Could the brothers have figured out that Lauren was, aside from my grandfather, my only close person? That, through her, they could get to me?
No.
I had to stop it.
I was getting too wrapped up in this situation.
I was safe.
Lauren was at work.
We were going to stuff our faces, and sort out my tangled web of emotions regarding Cosimo.
That was what we did.
We worked through things together.
It was stupid of me not to reach out to her sooner.
If I had, I probably wouldn’t have needed to concoct a plan to lose my guards, and run away to hide in her apartment.
I went to her wine rack, picking out a cab that we’d both agreed was the best of the best, despite it only being twelve dollars a bottle. I grabbed glasses, and uncorked it, letting it rest.
But when another hour passed, I went ahead and poured myself a glass, sipping it to ease my nerves.
“Finally,” I said when I heard a knock at the door.
I made my way across the apartment to open the door and help Lauren with the bags and bags of food she’d likely come home with.
I didn’t even think twice about it.
I just slid the lock.
Then pulled the door open.
I didn’t realize my mistake until it was too late…
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cosimo
My ma still lived in the same condo my old man had owned when he was alive.
Why she wanted to stay in the place where she consistently got the shit beat out of her was completely beyond me. Especially since I knew both Silvano and myself had offered to buy her something else, somewhere that didn’t remind her of years of unhappiness.
She’d been stubborn about it, though.
She was staying, and that was that.
I had to admit that over the years, she’d completely changed the place. Back when he was alive, my old man refused to let her change shit around there. I’d once woken up to him screaming at her about hanging new curtains.