Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“I needed to use you for a while today,” he sighs, tucking both hands behind his back as he stands closer to the roaring fireplace.
“…As a distraction. Letting Portello think we were too weak to fight anymore,” he adds, his shoulders slumping before he finally takes a seat, looking every bit as frail as he’s telling me he’s not.
His eyes suddenly blaze with passion like they used to in the old days.
“We got her, though. We got the mysterious Portello girl. Now he can know how it feels to lose some family….”
I open my mouth, but his hand’s up.
“I trust you, Rocky. And it’s you. I want to make sure the job gets done,” he says somberly.
I feel the back of my neck itch, sensing this is the time in a Martinelli’s life when the old blood asks you to prove yourself.
The time when they need proof of your strength and honor before handing over any real power.
“She’s in the guest house,” he informs me, shifting his eyes from mine to the fire.
“Maria…,” he murmurs to himself, half-smiling.
Now I am confused, more than ever.
I almost correct him, Jasmine’s name on my lips as well as at the front of my mind.
But I stay quiet. I know the only way to really find out what’s going on is for Papa to tell me in his own time and in his own way.
Jesus, though. If the girl they have is Portello’s daughter, then where the fuck is Jasmine?
“I want you to supervise her stay with us, Rocco,” he says in a firm, serious tone.
I’m being charged with looking after something valuable, but not so valuable that he has to do it himself.
“Get what you can out of her,” he continues, ignoring me completely and listing things off like a block of chores I have to do instead.
“I want Portello to think she’s dead, but we’re not gonna do anything like that,” he says to himself, shaking his head.
“I’ll go to her now,” I say a little too quickly, determined to see who’s actually here and prove my gut’s feeling.
That it’s Jasmine here, I just know it is…it has to be.
Another hour of this, and I’d go insane from wondering and even worrying.
Overprotective of a complete stranger?
It’s not a feeling I’m used to, and she’s making me feel it a thousand percent.
Papa smiles with assurance, looking like he’s happy I’m playing along, not even minding being used as a stooge to cover for his real plans with Portello.
“I’ll go down with you,” Papa sighs, heaving himself out of his chair, linking his arm with mine for support.
It’s the closest I’ve come to him since he’s been unwell.
Since being sick, he’s aged so much, and he pats my hand with a clinical affection.
“You’re a good boy, Rocky. Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you will take over for me after all….”
Come to think of it. It’s the closest I’ve been to him since I was a boy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jasmine
Rocky.
It sounds like a nickname he doesn’t like from the look he gives the old man, but once he sees it’s me his eyes change. Once our eyes lock for the second time today, he could be called Fanny Fuck-face for all he cares.
I gasp at his sight, and he’s even bigger up close. And the magic of first sight is replayed for me all over again.
“Oh. Mr. Martinelli?” someone rasps from the doorway, out of sight.
“Excuse me,” the old man bows, turning to go as he gives Rocky a firm look with a frown before he leaves us alone.
The latch is hardly closed on the door when the huge man in front of me moves like lightning.
He lunges forward with a grin that would frighten me if it was on anyone else.
He grabs hold of my wrists, making me gasp louder and harder before realizing he’s only studying them.
“Are you hurt? Are you alright?” he growls, lifting my eyes to meet his again with his huge fingers gripping my chin.
I feel my lower lip trembling as if all the stress of today and every day before threatens to burst from my eyes.
I don’t know why, but this guy is with the gang I know just kidnapped me. Yet I’ve never felt so safe in my entire life.
It’s like I’m being rescued but kidnapped at the same time.
Weird.
After what should be an uncomfortably long time but isn’t, Rocky finally lets his fingers slide from my chin and sits next to me.
Close.
“Was it you who followed me?” I blurt out.
Hoping the effect he’s having on me isn’t so obvious.
I want to cry, laugh, and about a dozen other things all at once.
But most of all, I wanna feel him touching me again.
And not just on my chin.
I can feel my hard nipples scratching at my sweater. My nipples are like bullets even though it’s toasty warm on the bed.