Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
“And Bella?” Tank asked, taking the folder back.
I felt bad for the guy, he’d wanted to work with us not for them, but we needed eyes on the inside, and he was loyal to a fault, especially for a De Lange.
He was one of my favorite captains.
I thought about it for a minute. “Once they go to the honeymoon suite, send the men away, wait ten minutes, then sedate her if she needs it to sleep. He’ll find his fun elsewhere. I read through the stupid archaic rules that I’m changing this week, from the founding Families. None of our daughters or cousins will have to deal with this ever again, marriage will always be their choice.” We’d never abided by the old rules, the fact that Ivan even knew them was alarming, the fact that he called one of the oldest ones forth in order to keep Bella was ridiculous since he wasn’t going to touch her, which just meant, he needed the peace as much as we did.
The question was, why?
Why kill Junior in order to achieve it?
Why not let Junior keep doing it?
Nothing lined up.
Nothing made sense.
You didn’t just wake up one morning and decide you want to be a boss after years of hating the mafia and fighting for a chance to choose your own major.
I knew something was going on, and I trusted Junior, he wasn’t easy to kill, and our last conversation had me wondering if he knew something I didn’t.
It was a fucking mess.
Mine to clean up.
Mine to straighten out.
“Call a meeting in a week and Tank, watch the rest of the men. Eyes and ears everywhere. Either Ivan’s plotting something…”
Or someone else is.
And has been for a very long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Pretending is worse than getting shot at, I would know, I pretended a very, very long time.” —King Campisi
Ivan
I signed the contract.
The easiest part was over with.
Now I just had to wait for the complaints from all the men telling me how to do my job and that we should have broken away to prove our strength. Time would tell and I figured it would take possibly a day for news to spread that we would stay under the thumb of the Capo.
Something the De Langes had notoriously hated for years.
Find the mole.
Who was pulling the strings.
Who was barking out orders.
Who had no fear.
It wouldn’t take long, I’d only bought so much time though, so I was still nervous. People rarely stayed silent; they were passive aggressive, good with words and good with pulling people to their side, and often driven by their own greed or need for power.
It wasn’t Tank. I knew that for sure.
I had no suspicions and hadn’t received any intel. I was told to wait for further instructions, and I was told to play my part, which started once King signed. I’d just single-handedly ruined so many plans.
Tank brought the black folder back to me. I opened it, saw blood, and went into a purposeful self-destruct mode.
I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started chugging, then slammed it onto the ground. “More!”
Tank stared at me, then at the bottle, shook his head, and walked off to get more whiskey.
Sick to my stomach, I pretended not to watch Bella watch me as I got up and joined some of my men at their table.
They were drunk off their asses, possibly high, and had a few women with them who looked like actual prostitutes.
Wonderful.
I grabbed one from Mark, one of my least favorite made men, and pulled her onto my lap. “Where’s my wedding present, beautiful?”
Her laugh was so annoying my ears pounded, her long white nails dug into my cheeks as she leaned down and kissed me, all tongue, no finesse, tasting like wine and cigarettes.
I fought not to gag and grabbed her ass. “Mmmmm.”
She moved across my lap, creating friction, and my sad dick deflated even more than it already had.
The men around me laughed and cheered.
And with each kiss of this random stranger on my wedding day, in front of every Family, I made a complete ass out of myself.
I made myself look weak.
Easy to control.
Too eager.
Too young.
I grabbed the redhead next to Dio and pulled her onto my other knee. “I really, really like presents.”
She bit down on my neck. I forced out a laugh when she was tossed off me and onto the floor by none other than Nixon himself.
“Hey, Dad.” I winked.
He punched me across the face, sending me sailing into the floor before picking me up to my feet and punching me again.
It hurt like hell. Was it sick that I liked it more than those kisses?
The pain was real.
The kissing wasn’t.
I didn’t cover my face when Nixon pulled back for a second punch, but I was saved by a sucker punch to the back of my head by a much smaller hit.