Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“You're the boss. I see your point, we want him on our good side. I’m warning you, in any case. I’ve got a strange feeling about him. There’s more to him, and I don’t trust him. It’s too soon, and he’s far too cocky.”
“Then why the fuck do I trust you?” I call out after him.
He’s smart enough not to say a word. We haven’t gotten into our disagreement over Kristoff, but I really can't get on his case about it again. Specially when I had so much fun beating the shit out of that son of a bitch. I didn’t stop until he begged me to. Stopping was the hard part. I didn’t want to, but I also promised to be back. Now I have the pleasure of knowing he's waiting. Wondering when I'll return. Dreading the idea while also maybe wishing I would get it over with and kill him.
It's almost enough to get me hard.
The buzz of an incoming text stirs me out of my reverie as I imagine Kristoff bleeding out on the cold concrete. Not that there's any suffering too extreme for him after what he did to my daughter. Death isn’t even enough at this point. I look down at the screen and find a message from Amanda. Once again, she cannot help but remind me that she exists. So thirsty for attention. I regret ever giving it to her.
Amanda: Remember, it would be in your best interest to give me what I want.
It took her that long to come up with such a pitiful retort? She's not the opponent I thought she was. But if it wasn't for her—her cruelty, her lies, her greed—I would have the one person beside me that I crave most. I would finish my final meeting of the day, then find Bianca wherever she is in the house. I’d bend her over the nearest flat surface and fuck her senseless just because I could. Always having her presence to look forward to, her smile, her laughter. Her love. She might never have spoken the words out loud, but I saw it in her eyes. It shined brighter than anything else.
She was beginning to love me, if she wasn't already there.
And now she's gone, willing to run over if Tatum needs her, but not if I do. She would rather run away from me. She would prefer to blame me for something outside my control.
That's what's on my mind while I type out a quick reply.
Me: The only reason you’re still alive is our daughter's existence. If not for her, I would have rid the world of you long ago. And I still can, so don’t tempt me.
I send the message and return to my scotch, mulling over my Moroni problem and imagining all the ways I could make his life miserable for deciding to fuck with me. I might not be able to punish Amanda in the way I'd like to. I also can't seem to get Bianca out of her own head. It looks like Moroni's going to have to bear the brunt of my anger. Eventually, everybody will remember who they're fucking with and just what the Torrio name means.
BIANCA
There's meatloaf in the oven and mashed potatoes being kept warm on the stove. I even bought Dad’s favorite ice cream on the way home. It's pretty lame, except it's all I have. It’s the only weapon at my disposal to bring my father around for an actual conversation with him about Mom. The promise of a good meal, something it seems like he misses out on when I’m not around. He's been a stranger the past few days, coming home late and leaving the house early.
The only evidence I have of him being here is the dishes in the sink every morning and a damp towel on the bathroom floor. He's been treating this place like a hotel, and me the housekeeper. I think the worst part of all is that I don’t mind. The least I can do is take care of him, since he's doing me a favor by letting me stay. I won’t be here forever. I have every intention of leaving. I'll have to either piss or get off the pot soon regarding that lease, but I will sign it. I only asked for a few days to work on a few things and the landlord was more than happy to agree.
All that's left is getting it through to Dad. Part of me wants to pack up my things and go without saying a word—he hasn't given me the respect to show his face and refuses to even clean up after himself. After all that, do I actually owe him an answer on where I’m going? I might do it if I knew he wouldn’t come looking for me. Although I know him well enough to know he won't let it go. I'd rather get this out of the way now than face drama down the road.