Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
When he was done with his inspection, Dominic sat down on the chair, his chest still on the bed as he held me, one hand on my waist and the other on my arm. He looked at me for a long moment. We still hadn’t spoken, but the agony in his eyes said everything. I blinked and felt tears roll down my face. He reached up and wiped them with a thumb before setting his hand back on my waist. After an eternity, he dropped his head on my chest. Had his shoulders not started to shake lightly, I wouldn’t have known he was crying. It made my throat squeeze impossibly tighter. I set a hand on his back and moved it side to side slowly, hoping to somewhat soothe him. It made his shoulders shake harder. We stayed like that for a while until he took a long, deep breath and straightened, wiping his face and bringing his hands to the one closest to him, the one free of the IV.
“I’m so sorry.” I could barely hear him, but I read his lips perfectly. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I took my hand from beneath his and brought it to his face, running the back of it over his forehead, his closed eyes, the bags under them, his lips, his now full beard. His hair was in a weird stage where it was no longer cut short but wasn’t long enough to style. He was gorgeous, but he looked like shit. When I dropped my hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it once, twice, three times, before setting it gently on the bed. He stood then and looked down at me, dark eyes full of anguish. His hand moved over my forehead one more time, pushing the hair that had fallen onto my face out of the way, and leaned down to kiss me. His lips were soft against mine, the kiss slow, the grief in it matching our own. When he pulled away, he set his forehead against mine and breathed me in for a moment. He looked at me again, eyes searching my face, and I knew it would be the last.
39
DOMINIC
I let my phone buzz a few times before answering my father’s call. I’d been ignoring him all week. Ignoring everyone, really. This morning, I woke up and told myself I was done with the self-pity. I had things to do, and at the top of my list were two people I needed to get rid of. It might start a war. The guys were with me, though. I’d done way too many things for them, no questions asked, for them to not have my back. That didn’t mean my father would be okay with it, or Angelo. Getting rid of an entire crime family would surely come with consequences, but I really didn’t give a shit anymore. My voice sounded as annoyed as I felt when I finally answered the phone.
“Così rispondi a tuo padre?”
“Ciao, papa.” I took a breath. “È bello sentiri.”
“Liar.” He chuckled into the line. I kept quiet. He sighed. “I hear you’re heartbroken.”
“I’ll live.”
“I told you to stay here and find yourself a good Italian girl.”
“Says the man who’s on his third Italian wife.”
He laughed again. “Touché.”
“What do you want?”
“I can’t call my son to say hello?” he asked. “Your brother is on his way back to America and it occurred to me that we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
“I saw you two months ago.”
“I meant the three of us. It also made me think about how proud I am of my boys.” He paused. “Gabriel is doing very well for himself.”
“I guess the high-end thugs you’ve sent him pay him well.”
Another laugh. “Says the high-end thug.”
I took a seat on the corner of my bed. “What do you really want, Pa?”
“I hear we have a common enemy.”
I scoffed. “Aren’t your enemies mine to inherit? Isn’t that what you always said?”
“Yes, but this is different,” he said. “Costello.”
I gripped the phone tighter. Tommy hadn’t even bothered hiding; he was back at Tempt every Tuesday and Friday, business as usual. We all had different opinions as to why he’d be out in the open, but mine always went back to the fact that he thought the big names were backing him. Big names, like my fucking father.
“I heard you were working with him,” I said.
“Working with him. Please.”
I had it on the tip of my tongue to bring up Joe Masseria, but doing so would incriminate my brother, and he was already too involved for my liking.
“What’s your issue with Costello?” I asked instead.
“We had an understanding with Tommaso, but he’s overstepped. He’s taking our men, stealing from our fleets. We thought letting him think he was part of our circle would make a difference, but it seems he thinks he takes precedence over our own sons and has mistaken our kindness for weakness.” He paused. “We’re all giving you our blessing to get rid of him.”