Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, letting hot water beat against my skin as if it might wash away the surreal events of yesterday. But when I emerge, dripping and pink, nothing has changed.
I still have a brother I never knew. A brother whose mysterious disappearance is still an open case with the police, but many also presume to be dead. And now, people also want me six feet under because we happen to share the same father.
I dress carefully, as if the right outfit might somehow armor me against whatever comes next. Dark jeans. White button-down shirt. Camel-colored cardigan. Sensible but cute ankle boots. Normal clothes for a normal day that will be anything but.
When I'm ready to go, so is he. Today, Gabriele's dressed differently: dark jeans similar to mine, a slate-gray henley that does nothing to hide the muscular breadth of his shoulders, a leather jacket that's been broken in just enough to look impossibly soft.
Less formal than yesterday, but no less intimidating.
He straightens when he sees me approach, and something flickers across his face. Something that might be relief.
"You're sure about this?"
No. I've ceased being sure of anything the moment I learn of my ties to mafia. But I nod anyway because I'm still holding on to the hope that I can go back to living a normal life...someday.
I'm hoping he'll leave as soon as we make it to the shop, but Gabriele follows me inside instead, and the place suddenly feels much smaller with him in it. I switch on the lights, trying to reclaim some normalcy in my routine.
"Are you sure you don't nee to be somewhere else?" It's not that I want to get rid of him, but it's just harder to work when he's around.
"The tone of your voice..."
What about it?
"You've researched me."
"I'd be stupid not to, wouldn't I? I hardly know you—-"
"We can remedy that."
"How?"
He studies me with those dark eyes, intense and unreadable. "You could start by making us coffee."
The request is so mundane, so unexpected, that I almost laugh. "Coffee?"
"If I'm going to explain everything, I'd prefer to do it with caffeine."
There's something disarming in the simple request—something strangely human about this dangerous man asking for coffee like we're just two people having a normal conversation.
"Fine," I say, gesturing to the small back room where I keep a decent coffee setup for long workdays. "But answers come with the coffee."
"Fair."
I busy myself with the familiar ritual—measure beans, grind, heat water, prepare the pour-over. The everyday actions settle my nerves slightly. When I return with two mugs, he's examining one of my custom seal designs—an intricate Celtic knot pattern I'd finished last week.
"You have remarkable attention to detail," he says, setting the seal down carefully.
I place his coffee on the counter. "It's necessary for the work."
"And for survival." He takes the mug with a nod of thanks. "Details matter in my world."
"Your world," I repeat. "The one I apparently belong to without knowing it."
He takes a sip of coffee, considering me. "You don't belong to any world but your own, Kleah. But Viktor Biancardi's blood means his world will come looking for you regardless."
"Because he was a criminal."
"Yes." No sugar-coating, no excuses. Just confirmation.
"And you? What were you to him?"
He takes another sip before answering. "Someone who could have died if not for his help. And in return, I owe him a blood debt."
"And if that debt means you'd have to kill people?"
"So be it."
I wish I had the confidence to tell him it wouldn't come to that. But after seeing all the crimes that have been linked to Viktor Biancardi's name...
"Isn't there a way I can just let everyone know I don't plan to take over his 'empire'? I'm me. And my brother is...my brother," I end lamely.
"You share his name. That's enough to make you a threat for most people. A loose end that they have to get rid of, no matter the cost."
"But I'm not crime lord material," I protest. "Surely that would be obvious—-" The shop bell suddenly chimes, the sound cutting me off and also causing Gabriel to tense. But just as he shifts his position to place himself between me and the door in one fluid motion—-
"Good morning, Kleah!"
An older woman comes barreling in, and it's just Mrs. Lee, one of my regulars.
"I was hoping you'd be open. I need more of those lovely dragonfly seals for my garden party invitations—" She stops, frowning slightly as she looks first at me, then at Gabriele. "Oh! I'm sorry, dear. I didn't realize you had a... visitor."
The way she says "visitor" makes it clear she's jumping to all sorts of conclusions about the gorgeous man in my shop, and I feel heat rise to my cheeks. "It's fine, Mrs. Lee," I say quickly. "He's a... consultant. For a new business opportunity."