Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Snatching my sundress from the ground, I pushed to my feet and approached Luca. His black suit was firmly in place as always, devoid of any personality. Just how my father wanted him. It was ninety degrees, for Christ’s sake. I could literally see the sweat rolling down his temple. His near-black eyes were fixed anywhere but on my bikini-clad body as I tugged my dress over my head.
Luca fell into step beside me, towering over me as we made our way toward the house. The strip of sand at the shore crept up to perfectly manicured lawns that were a thick carpet beneath my bare feet. Sprinklers swayed and danced, catching in the sun and painting the air in rainbows like this was some kind of Disney movie. And it sure as hell wasn’t that.
“You know, I have a phone. You don’t have to come and personally escort me to some stupid meeting,” I said as I stepped through the back door.
Luca let out a snort. “Emilia, I would never give you warning.”
“So untrusting.”
We passed through the hallway lined with abstract artwork and marble floors. So pretentious. So…my mother. We were only a few meters from my father’s office door when Luca pulled me to a halt. I glanced up at the frown marring his face.
“Emilia, Uncle Sergio is in there.”
I felt the color drain from my face along with any bravado I might have been feeling.
“Just… behave, okay? I know you hate this family, but don’t get on his bad side.” And with those reassuring words about my psycho, mafia boss uncle, my traitorous brother dragged me to the door, knocked, and shoved me inside.
When I entered my father’s office, the scent of cigars greeted me. Father sat behind the huge desk that dwarfed everything else in the room, a haze of smoke gently swirling through the sunlight that poured through the window.
This room always brought a sense of nostalgia, memories of moments spent sitting on my father’s lap in that very chair as he read from first editions of Charles Dickens and Lewis Carroll. That was before, though. My father was no longer that man, and whatever innocent adoration I’d once held for him had long since been torn away. Now, it wasn’t my father who drew my attention but my uncle. He leaned against the front of the desk, arms folded as he watched me approach. His shrewd gaze swept over me, the void in his eyes making me as uncomfortable as ever before he sneered. I had no doubt that my beach wear and soaked-through dress were not considered suitable attire for this asshole’s presence.
The charcoal-gray suit he wore was nearly the same color as his neatly combed hair, clinging to a wiry body. Sergio Donato could almost pass as a businessman if it weren’t for the ice in his eyes, a kind of cold that dug into your soul and pried you apart from the inside. Uncle Sergio had always scared me. When I was younger, I thought he was the Scar to my father’s Mufasa. Little did I know that Disney had gotten it wrong, and the bad guy always wore the crown, not that my father was some regal saint.
I could feel my uncle’s gaze burning into the side of my face as I took a seat in front of the desk. My heart let out a thundering beat that felt an awful lot like the symphony of my impending demise, and I gritted my jaw, forcing my figurative armor into place.
“Emilia,” my father began. His dark gaze bore into me, daring me to misbehave in front of his brother. “You are to be wed.” Just like that. He said the words like he was discussing what we were having for dinner.
Of course, I had thought this might happen at some point; that I’d be standing right here in this room while my parents tried to sell me off and buy something favorable with my virginity. The fact that Father would even try to do this to me after everything… But no, the same man who had read Alice in Wonderland to me now offered nothing but indifference in the face of my worst nightmare. Maybe this was what it took to stand at the top of The Outfit. No heart. No soul.
Anger punched through the horror, licking up my spine until it took everything in me to keep my expression smooth. Emotions weren’t welcome here, and the only thing that would garner me respect right now was strength. I’d long ago been robbed of the innocent belief that women in the mafia were valued. That men like Uncle Sergio and my father could and would protect us. It was bullshit. Women in the mafia were assets, protected for their worth. Nothing else.