Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Nope, I don’t have a type.” I took another sip of tequila.
Dominic snorted. “You definitely have a type.”
“I don’t think he does,” Rosie said, brows pulled slightly as she thought about it.
“He likes older women,” Cat responded. My eyes flicked to Lenora just as she rolled her eyes. I felt my lips twitch but held the smile back.
“Sometimes I like them a few years younger than me,” I said.
Lenora’s eyes shot to mine. I swore I could see her breathing quicken. I needed to stop looking at her. I would tell her she was my type if my friends weren't here. It wasn’t a lie. Tonight, she was my exact type. Fuck. Maybe I had a death wish and didn’t even know it.
“Speaking of younger people,” Dominic started. My knee-jerk reaction was to tell him that his sister wasn’t that young, but I stayed quiet because what the fuck. Dom looked over at her. She was blushing now. “Nora wants to work at the bar.”
I blinked.
“Dominic.” Lenora gasped.
“What? You haven’t asked him, so I’m doing it for you,” he said.
“I could have done it myself.” She pursed her lips.
I frowned. “You want to work at Scarab?”
“Only for one night,” Dom said.
“Why?” I asked, sounding exactly as confused as I felt.
“Because she took—” Dom’s words were cut off.
“Because I took classes from one of the best mixologists in the country, and I want to show off my skills even if it’s just for one night,” she said, glaring at her brother. “I can speak for myself. You don’t have to act like pàpa.”
“I do not act like him,” he snapped — it was a sore subject, which made sense when your father was a fucking monster.
Rosie set her hand on Dom’s arm; as if she worked magic, he instantly calmed down. She looked at me. “Maybe she can do the soft opening.”
Oh, ho ho. I think not. “We already have a bartender that night.”
I didn’t care if I was being an asshole. I couldn’t have Lenora in my space. I could barely stand to have her in front of me in a room filled with people. And this was me; someone trained not to react to anyone in any situation. Grown-ass men had screamed in my face in every kind of weather imaginable. I’d questioned and tortured people for hours. And this was who was getting under my skin? I needed to pump the brakes on this now. Being alone with her would be catastrophic. I could feel it in my gut, and gut instincts were never wrong.
“Oh, my God. Look who’s here,” Rosie said, gasping. They all turned their attention to whoever she was talking about, but my eyes remained locked on Lenora’s.
“It’ll only be for one night,” she said, lowering her voice and batting her lashes, sending my thoughts straight to the gutter. “Only for the family and friends night. It’s not like I’ll be able to do much more, considering I’m getting married.”
She rolled her eyes. I wasn’t entirely sure why Giuseppe wanted to marry her off so quickly. Still, we suspected it had to do with the land Adriano’s family-owned, territories untouched by crime families. Most of it was near ports. It would be fantastic for business. According to Loren, this marriage would probably triple Giuseppe’s profits. The fucker. I pushed that to the forefront of my mind. She was getting married. And she was Dominic’s sister. And she was Giuseppe’s daughter.
“Why did you take mixology classes anyway?” I stirred the ice in my glass.
“Why did someone, who is about to marry a duke, take mixology lessons?” Her smile was small, making her look shy. Innocent. Delicious.
“Yeah.”
“I guess for the same reason I went to university and double-majored in Business and Sociology. Am I going to use those degrees? No, but it stupidly gave me a sense of freedom.” Her face crumpled a little. I hated it. “You wouldn’t understand. After all, I’m ‘just a woman,’ as every man in the room likes to remind me.”
“That’s offensive.” My brows hitched.
“What is?” She raised an eyebrow back at me.
“You’re insinuating that I’m a misogynistic, sexist pig.”
“Aren’t you?” She raised an eyebrow and waved a dainty hand in a circle. “Look around.”
I did look around, mostly because I was still taken aback by what she’d said. She couldn’t seriously think I was misogynistic. Or her brother. Or Gio. Or any of us. We were surrounded by boss bitches who made it very clear that without them, our ships would sink. Looking around the room, I understood what she meant. I knew most of these men; they were exactly who she thought they were. I didn’t like her implication that I was like that, though.
“So you’re assuming I’m like that because your father is?”
“And because you’re in the same line of work. You are the company you keep and all that,” she said, pressing her mouth together as if she wanted to shut herself up but couldn’t.