Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“As okay as I can be.” I stare at Stefania as she laughs at something Elena said. That sort of easy comfort is something I won’t ever experience, not like that anyway, the way Stefania can slip into a new role and put on a smile, maybe even form real bonds with people she barely knows. That’s never been for me.
“Good.” She punches my arm. “I’m happy you’re home.”
“I can tell. You’re practically beaming.”
Her eyes roll. “Tell your wife I hope she gets hit by a car.” She hesitates at the look I give her and sighs. “Okay, I hope she gets hit by a car and dies a quick, painless death. Happy?” She walks off, shaking her head like I’m the annoying one.
But that’s just the way she is. She’ll come around to Stefania eventually—though it might take a while. Probably a few years, if we’re lucky.
I rejoin the others feeling stiff and uncomfortable, though I do my best to hide it. I don’t like indoor crowds—outside, they don’t bother me, but inside, a bunch of people shoved into one cramped space makes me feel small and trapped. It’s something I’ve worked on and tried to deal with over the years, but it hasn’t gone away no matter what I do, though I’m much better now than I was when I was younger. Even my own family makes me feel it, though—the crawling sensation on my skin, the heat on the back of my hand, the bars of my cage pressing down, forcing me into a stoop, forcing me into the fetal position, crushing me against the floor—
“Davide?” Mom puts a hand on my shoulder and I realize people are staring. My heart’s racing in my chest and sweat’s beading down my back. I must’ve spaced out again.
“I’m okay.” I pull away from her and force a smile on my face. The only way I can make everyone stop staring at me is if I pretend like everything’s totally fine, and I’ve gotten good at doing that over the years. “Did Stefania tell you all about how she went to college?”
“Really, dear?” Mom turns away, intent on a new target. “Tell me all about it.”
Stefania glances at me for a second longer and I glare back at her, almost daring her to say something. Instead, she talks about her time at the University of Pennsylvania. Elena’s jealous—she always wanted to go to college but wasn’t allowed—and Dad’s impressed that Stefania graduated from such a good school.
Mom eventually pulls Elena and Stefania aside, pours them some wine, and the three of them retreat out into my back yard. I stay in the kitchen area with Simon and Dad, and drink a toast to my wife’s good health and her reproductive viability.
“We’re glad you’re back,” Dad says, his happy expression fading away, leaving behind Alessandro Bianco, the Don of the Bianco Famiglia, the man who raised me, my father and my boss. “The Santoros have been making noise again. They’re unhappy about the docks situation, and one of our boats mysteriously sank three nights ago.”
I grunt in reply and down my whiskey. “Let me guess. You think it was one of Luciano’s men?”
“I need you to look into it. I don’t care if you find the guy who actually did the job, but someone’s got to pay dearly. Do you understand?”
I nod slowly. I understand very well. When Dad gives me a job, he knows exactly how I’m going to handle it.
With lots of blood and bullets.
“Here’s to the Bianco Famiglia,” Simon says, raising his glass.
I get a refill and drink to his toast.
Chapter 10
Stefania
I stand alone in the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror.
I’m exhausted. There are bags under my eyes and my skin looks pale. I prod at my cheeks, at my lips, and wonder if I’m half as pretty as Davide’s sister Elena or even his mother. They were all so nice to me, maybe a little too nice, except for his youngest sister, Laura—she only showed up for a second before storming off. I don’t know what’s going on there, but Davide says I shouldn’t worry about it.
Except I’m worried about everything. From the strange little enclave his family has carved for itself in the middle of the city to this bizarre house. There’s no privacy, only enormous floors with no walls, some closets, and a couple bathrooms. There’s nowhere to retreat from him, nowhere to hide, because everything’s out in the open, and it makes me uncomfortable. I’m used to my family’s house with all the hallways and doors and the million different little rooms, from guest rooms to billiards rooms to bars and offices. It’s the total opposite of this place—he doesn’t even have a guest bed.
Which means I’m stuck with him, at least if I want to sleep on a mattress tonight.