Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I’m not going to lie. I’m scared out of my mind being on my own for the first time in my life.
At least you’re surrounded by a Sicilian community. You just need time to adjust.
I came to New York because it’s the last place that felt like home. It’s where I spent most of my life before my father died, and we started moving from city to city.
But it doesn’t feel like home anymore because I have no family here. Coming back here has only intensified the grief because I see familiar places I used to go to with my family. Especially Central Park, where I used to accompany my grandfather for walks on Sundays. He’d tell me stories of when he was young, and we’d easily spend two hours in the park.
The house we used to live in is run down, and the flowers I planted are all gone. There used to be a big tree in the front yard where my dad and Uncle Ricco built me a treehouse, but that’s gone too.
I’ve lost so much since I left New York. It was stupid of me to think things would magically get better once I returned.
After fruitlessly searching for a job all day long, I return to my apartment. It was already furnished when I signed the lease. That’s a relief, at least, and it will do until I can afford something better.
I shut the front door behind me and lock the three bolts in place that took me hours to install. Slumping down on the couch, I kick off my sneakers and let out a tired sigh.
I only sit for a few minutes before the intense heartache hits, and I burst into tears. Lying down on the couch, I curl into a bundle and ride out the wave of pain that comes in waves.
I miss playing with Luna and having her sleep next to me.
I miss hearing Viktor come home and nag me to join him for dinner. I miss his scent, the way he walks, the intense look in his eyes, and his strong arms.
God, I miss them so much.
Sniffling, I swallow back the tears and pull the phone Viktor gave me from my pocket. I open the messenger app, and when I see Viktor still hasn’t read the text I sent to say I arrived safely, my heart breaks more.
What did you expect, Rosalie? You told the man to let you go, and that’s what he’s doing.
I didn’t think it would be this hard, though. Just a simple text from him saying ‘okay’ or even a thumbs up would make me feel better.
Geez, four days, and you’re crumbling. You wanted this, so suck it up and start sorting out your emotions.
Getting up, I make myself a cup of coffee before I sit down at the kitchen table. I pull the notepad closer and look at the list of pros and cons I’ve made of my feelings for Viktor.
Under cons, I have Viktor taking part in killing my family, him kidnapping me, and the fact that he’s the head of the bratva and kills a lot of people.
Under pros, the list is endless. He was never violent with me. He provided for everything I needed and never expected anything in return. He didn’t force himself on me. He was kind and caring. He got me a puppy.
This is stupid.
As soon as I find a job, I’ll get a psychologist to help me figure out if what I feel for Viktor is real.
It sure feels real.
Letting out a sigh, I glance at my luggage I still have to unpack. I only brought a couple of books. Viktor will send the rest with Luna once I’m ready.
Find a job so Luna can join you in New York. She’ll make everything better.
Pulling out my phone again, I open Google and search for jobs. I don’t have any experience, which makes it really hard.
Maybe you should study a short course to help you get a job?
I search for courses, and seeing a couple in the beauty industry makes my eyebrow rise.
I could do that.
I call the school that offers the course, and when the lady tells me the next course starts the day after tomorrow, excitement trickles into my chest.
Ending the call, a smile tugs at my lips. The course is a start in the right direction.
Feeling hopeful, I get up and start to unpack my luggage. The closet is much smaller than I’m used to, so I pick the most practical clothing and leave the rest in the bags.
A knock at the front door has my head snapping up and my heart hammering in my chest.
Don’t get your hopes up. It’s probably the landlord.
Not wanting to just open the door to anyone, I call out, “Who is it?”
“Alissa.”
My lips part in a gasp, and my eyes widen with surprise. I quickly unbolt the door and yank it open. “Oh. My. God.”