Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I make my way to the bar, where a young girl around Poppy’s age is lining up the bottles against the cabinet. She spins around and jumps when she sees me. “Shit! Sorry!”
“You all ready up here?”
“Yes,” she answers, and my eyes fall to her name tag. Cassie. “We’re ready.”
“How old are you?” I ask, not hiding the way my eyes crawl over her body.
Her cheeks turn pink. “Twenty-three.”
“Alright…” I’ll double check that shit. She looks young as fuck, but then we do that. We find the young ones because they make good bait for the creeps that Anonymous hunt.
I grab my phone out of my pocket, swiping it unlocked when I see Victor’s name flash over the screen.
“What’s up?”
“We’re going to need to talk this week about something that has come up.”
I lower myself down onto one of the chairs. A glass slides over to me and I look up at Cassandra, who smiles at me. Way too fucking innocent for this club. Fuck. What was Storm thinking? “Tell me now.”
“It’s about your commitments to the Cosa Nostra. They want you where your father was.”
I swig the whiskey in my mouth, hissing when it burns down my throat, leaving notes of honey and smoke behind. “Figured that was coming.”
“I know you said the MC is your life now, but son…”
“I know,” I answer, giving him what he wants while looking up at the ceiling. “I know. I just need time to train Khaos to take my place. I can’t be leaving them, and I can’t leave Royce and Lion in the dark about it either. I’ll need to fill them in.” Usually mafia business is to be left just in-house. No one outside.
“I agree. They need to know. The fact is, Wolf isn’t a La Rosa, he’s an Amante. Your family isn’t lost anymore, Vittiorio.” I sink the rest of the drink in one go.
“Alright. Talk soon.” Hanging up, I flick through my messages. I pause when I find the Instagram logo on my phone. I wonder. I tap it open and type in her name. It comes up first. I blink at her username. Uncut. I know she means gems, but it still irks me for a reason I’m not touching.
Her profile is public, so I click on it. Twelve thousand followers, following six. I chuckle, shaking my head. “Always a fucking snob.”
I click on the last photo she uploaded. A selfie of her holding up the phone in the driver’s seat of her Aston Martin, wearing a tight little black dress with her tits spilling out and hair flattened straight. I roll my eyes when I see the girl beside her is Betty. They’re both dressed to go out, and I look at the date it was posted.
Forty-six minutes ago.
I narrow my eyes and fight with myself not to open the comments. Scrolling to the next photo, it’s a photo of her and Wolf. My heart slows in my chest and I fight back the urge to not get in my car and get them both right now. Wolf is laughing in her arms but looking directly at the camera and whoever is holding it. Ruby is blowing raspberries into his neck. They look like they’re in the snow, both dressed in ski gear. That was posted a couple months ago. I scroll to the next one and my blood turns cold.
She’s sitting at a restaurant table, her makeup immaculate and she’s wearing a tight little white dress. Fuck. Mikhail is seated beside her, dressed in a suit, his beard shaved perfectly. His hand is on her thigh, his eyes on the camera. I study the photo obsessively. Her eyes look dull, as if the glitz and glam that she’s dressed as does nothing to hide the ugliness she feels inside.
Yeah. Shit is about to change.
I scroll back to the top and hit follow.
Game on.
I came to the conclusion years ago that I wasn’t the kind of girl who liked going out and running amok, so becoming a mother worked for me. Until it didn’t when Papa died.
Since he came back two days ago, things around the house have been tense. I can feel Mama’s betrayal. Why he would leave her and me to pick up all his shit while he ran off. After putting Wolf to bed, Mama insisted Betty and I head out, as she and Papa had shit to sort through. She told us both not to go home tonight, so now here I am, at the penthouse of my hotel in the city and looking directly across the road.
“You okay?” Betty comes up from behind me, handing me a drink. I take it from her, stepping backward and back into the lounge to get out of the wind.
“Yeah. Apparently, they put a bar into the hotel.” I take a large swig. “I say let’s check it out tonight.”