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)
We end up panting and exhausted. One of her legs is draped across me, and if this had happened with any other woman, I would’ve shoved her away to make sure I didn’t fall apart into a simpering, pathetic, panic-stricken mess.
Instead, I relish in her closeness.
And that’s a problem, because I don’t know how to let someone in like this.
Chapter 17
Stefania
I find I’m kind of enjoying the domestic thing.
It helps that I don’t have to do the hard stuff. Davide’s family has approved cleaners that go from house to house every few days, scouring every inch of every room. The ladies appear chattering away in Russian and Ukrainian as they do their thing, and I retreat up into my library to hide from their easy, comfortable laughter. It’s weird that I’m jealous of cleaners, but I miss my job and I really miss Giorgia, and I don’t know what I’m doing with myself right now.
Playing wife is one thing. Cooking, straightening, sleeping in bed with my husband, that’s the fun stuff—but it’s like I’m at summer camp. The real world is on vacation and I can pretend like turning myself into a mafia Martha Stewart is fun and cute, except the summer always ends, and I don’t know what I’ll be once I decide to come back home.
Which is how I find myself walking down the Bianco compound’s private, shady street, and stopping at a house a few doors down. It looks a lot like Davide’s, but it’s bigger and more austere, with more turrets and fancy molding around the roofline. I knock at the door and stand back, feeling nervous and silly, until Davide’s mother, Freddie, answers.
She seems surprised, but not unhappy. “Stefania, I didn’t expect you.”
“I’m sorry to drop in like this. You said to come by if I ever needed anything and—”
She seemed like she meant it, which most people don’t.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” she says, ushering me inside, and again, I actually believe her. When someone says that, normally they’re being polite or filling silence or whatever, but Freddie seems so genuine. I’ve met a lot of women in the mafia world and none have been such a ray of sunshine and comfort like this lady. She’s not even wearing any designer clothing, which is practically unheard of in most Famiglia circles.
I feel at ease the instant she sits me down at her kitchen table, which is shockingly unassuming and simple, and starts to make tea. She makes small talk the whole time, and when it’s finished, she comes over and sits across from me.
“I’m really sorry to barge in like this,” I say and accept the mug she offers.
“It’s totally fine. Everything’s okay with Davide, right?”
“Oh, yeah, I mean, as good as they can be.” I laugh awkwardly because I’m not about to tell this lady that I’m having some of the most intense and satisfying sex of my life with her son, but we haven’t exactly formed an emotional connection yet. Davide’s frustratingly hard to get a read on. “This isn’t about him.”
“What can I do for you then?” She sits back and sips her drink.
With most mafia women, I’d do the dance before asking for a favor. I’d compliment her home, coo over her hair or nails or whatever, do a little ass kissing. That’s practically expected. Except here, I get the feeling that the direct approach would be appreciated.
“I was hoping you could help me get a job,” I say, sitting up very straight and doing my best to look like a Very Professional Lady.
Freddie’s eyebrows raise and she puts her cup down. “A job?” she asks as if that’s the most absurd idea in the world. “Davide gave you his credit card, didn’t he?”
I have to laugh, because come on, obviously I don’t want a job to earn money. There’s enough wealth in this little oasis to last me the rest of my life, and Davide’s made it pretty clear that if I want something, all I have to do is order it.
“Back home, I had my own apartment.” I’m not sure how much of this she’s going to understand but I have to try anyway. “I worked at a Famiglia-related law firm, but the pay was enough to handle all my bills with some leftover for discretionary expenses. I gave up a life to move out here, and while I really appreciate all the kindness your family has shown me, I miss getting up in the morning with a purpose.”
She nods to herself and tilts her head as if getting a new read on me. She leans forward and taps her nails on the table, all of which look perfectly manicured and beautiful, but simple and understated. No gaudy tips, no bright colors.
“What kind of job did you have in mind?”