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)
“Principessa, how was school?” Papa pulls me beneath his arm and I sigh, resting my head against his chest as he places a gentle kiss on my head. Papa would always be my comfort, but just because I need him as my father does not mean my mother should tolerate his lifestyle as a husband. I can love them both equally without needing them to be together.
I peek up at Wicked from behind hooded eyes, finding his already on me. I would give almost anything to see him smile, just to see what it looks like.
“Betty is coming over soon,” I say up to my father. “We’re going out tonight—”
“Take Oscar.” Papa releases me from beneath his arm, tucking his hands into his suit pockets.
“Well, I was hoping that since I’m seventeen now that I don’t need to take anyone…”
“Ruby, you are the daughter of the Cosa Nostra and the blood daughter of the Capo Dei Capi. There will never be a day that you do not have someone with you.” He takes out his cigar tube and removes the fat trunk of his favorite. “You should know that by now.”
“I do,” I whine, making my way near the stairs. The hairs on my arms prickle when I brush past Wicked. He’s wearing suit pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up—a completely different look to what he was wearing last night—and it looks… well, I’m not going to touch that right now.
When my eyes connect with his, I swear the corner of his mouth curves in a half-smirk. What the hell could he be so happy about?
“I mean it, Ruby. Don’t you go trying to run them off either. Oscar will be on your ass faster than any of those kids at that school drop to their knees in your presence.” I roll my eyes as I make my way down the hallway. Should I have asked Wicked if I could take Poppy out tonight, or would it be cool to just ask her directly?
I guess I’ll find out.
Bringing my knuckles to the wooden door to their room, I knock on the wood three times before it opens onto Poppy. She’s wearing some of the clothes I left outside their room last night, and by the looks of her damp hair, she’s had a shower, but her blue eyes are rimmed red and her cheeks are swollen.
“Hi.” I smile at her, not knowing which way this could go. “I’m Ruby.”
“I know.” She gestures into the room, widening the door farther so I can step inside. She closes it behind me. “Lenny told me.”
“Lenny?” I make my way to her bed. “I thought his name was Wicked.”
“Oh, it is.” She moves through the room, slowly lowering herself down onto her bed. “But I’ve always called him Lenny because I didn’t think anyone should have a name like Wicked.” Weird. Why would your sister not call you by your real name? “This must be really weird for you, having strangers living in your home.”
Pulling out the chair that’s tucked beneath the computer desk, I wheel it closer to her bed and lower myself down. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. We actually have a lot of people coming in and out.” I lean back. “Me and Papa don’t see eye-to-eye often, but if anything, I trust his judgment.”
“Must be nice.” She blinks up at me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her close up. She might be younger than I thought… maybe it’s not a good idea. “Aren’t you going to ask why we’re here?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I don’t ask questions. How old are you?” At least not the important kind.
She pauses for a few seconds before her fingers twist on her lap. “Why?” She isn’t stupid. Whatever her and Wicked’s story is, I’m sure it’s a sad one.
“I’m going to a party tonight and was going to see if you wanted to join, but I totally get—”
“—please. Yes.” She rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound too thirsty, but yes, I would love to. Honestly, just to get out.”
I reach for her hand and pull her to her feet. “Then let’s go and get ready. I’ll introduce you to my best friend who is coming over too. Oh, and I have to have a soldier on my ass constantly, but you’ll get used to it.” Opening her door, we slide to the one opposite theirs, pushing mine open and enter my room.
“Wow,” she whispers as soon as we’re in my bedroom. She looks over the corkboard wall filled with thousands of photos, tickets to concerts, flight tickets, and any other thing I’ve wanted to keep over the years. Memories are a reminder that you’ve lived a life. I don’t want to ever lose that feeling. “Your room is…”