Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes. “Thanks, counselor.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to see one, you know.”
“Ugh, enough, already. I’ll be there. See you Saturday.” I hit the end button before Maggie can annoy me further.
Eek. This party has disaster written all over it.
Mario
Every year a dozen lavender roses arrives for my mother without a card. She always cries and makes a big deal about it, going on about how my father must have arranged it before he died, but we both know that isn’t true. Carlo sends the flowers.
No one ever speaks about what happened to my youngest brother. Word got around, probably even back to my mother about the circumstances around his disappearance. For the past four years, we’ve pretended like the guy never existed. My mother would stop herself from saying his name or turn her back abruptly to hide her tears when something reminds her.
My brothers, my cousins, they all keep their mouths shut. Ferdi looked over his shoulder, jumpy-like for a few years after Carlo left, but I know if Carlo wanted him dead, he would’ve done it while he had the chance. My little brother can be both decisive and ruthless.
That doesn’t mean he won’t show up to exact revenge on me someday. Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet. I thought for sure it would’ve by now. Or at least that I would’ve heard something—that Carlo joined a rival organization or married a famous model. The guy isn’t a coward, so he can’t still be hiding. He must’ve found success somewhere else.
I tried to trace the flowers the first couple years, but each year the credit card holder had a different name and location. Dummy accounts. Carlo isn’t stupid. That has never been his problem.
But perhaps I just haven’t dug deep enough. It’s time to get to the bottom of this. I can’t have this Carlo-situation hanging over my head for the rest of my life. Picking up the delivery notice from the florist, I head out to pay them a visit. Someone has to know something. And I certainly have ways of making people talk.
Summer
I put on a micro-skirt and fitted sweater with a draped neckline. It hugs my breasts and shows off my cleavage while still looking relatively classy. I don a pair of brown leather high heel boots and survey myself in the mirror. Eat your heart out John Jackson.
When I come out to the living room where Carlo waits, he raises one eyebrow.
I cock a hip, my high-heeled boot jutting out to the side. “What?”
He purses his lips. “Please tell me you won’t ever go out dressed like that without me.”
His dominant act annoys me at the moment. “What’s the big deal?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t play games with me. You look like you’re going out trolling. In this case, people will assume it’s to please me, and I hope to God it is.” He looks doubtful.
Heat creeps up my neck. Damn his ability to see through me. “Of course, it is,” I say breezily, walking past him to the door. “Are you ready?”
He frowns but says nothing, reaching past me to hold the door open, as he always does. The perfect gentleman. The gentleman who holds doors open and ties women to the bedframe at night.
The party is already happening when we get there. I purposely timed it for us to arrive late, not wanting to suffer the early awkward part of the party when you have to actually talk to people. The music is up, as loud as they could play it without getting complaints from their neighbors.
“You’re here!” Maggie’s a little tipsy. She looks radiant in a red v-neck blouse and hip-hugging jeans.
“I’m here. We’re here,” I amend.
Carlo’s hand rests at my low back. It feels possessive, like he’s staking his claim on me.
“Hey Summer! Where have you been?” A friend, Jenny, rushes over and throws her arms around me. She smells of vodka. “It’s great to see you.” She peers up at Carlo with admiration.
“This is Carlo.” I don’t add “my boyfriend.” It’s not because I’m still worried that Carlo doesn’t consider us a couple. He called me his girl, after all. It’s more...well, I don’t want to think about it now.
I glance around the apartment, trying not to flinch when I catch sight of John in the living room, sitting on the couch with his arm around a girl. My pulse races, and those feelings of unworthiness rush back.
Like I have something to prove to him, but he’s already judged and condemned me.
Why did I even come?
Lifting my sternum, I adjust my blouse, glancing down to remind myself how hot my cleavage looks.
“What would you like to drink?” Carlo murmurs.
“Red wine, please. I’m just going to say hi to some friends.” I nod toward the living room. “I’ll meet you in there.” I rub my lips together and waltz in, a bright smile on my face. Inserting myself in the middle of the scene, I greet my old group of friends.