Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Really, guys? Really?
I square my shoulders and lift my chin.
Am I embarrassed to death that my brothers have to see my hickey?
Absolutely.
But because I don't want to risk having my husband think I'm ashamed of him again, I decide to brazen it out and smile brightly at my brothers. I'm thinking I should just say something (anything!) to change the subject, but just as I open my mouth, I hear a familiar voice gasp from behind.
"Is that a hickey?"
And of course, it's no one but Sarica.
Grrr.
Lorenzo's hand settles on the small of my back as we turn around, and I fight against the urge to cover my neck when I see Sarica also accompanied by my grandmother.
"I did not expect this from you, Lorenzo," Nonna says.
My husband only looks at her, and my grandmother turns to me with an exasperated look. "Is he like this with you, too?"
I look at her blankly. "Like what?"
"That."
"I don't understand."
The older woman's gaze turns cunning. "I see."
And because I've known her my whole life, I know she'd never say that without reason.
There's definitely something Nonna sees but I don't, and when I glance at my husband, I'm stunned and absolutely upset to see his high-boned cheeks faintly flushed.
No!
I automatically reach up to cover his cheeks. "Stop it!"
In the corner of my eye, I realize I've taken my whole famiglia by surprise, and all of them have tensed as if expecting war to break out any moment.
Oh no.
I'm about to assure them this is nothing serious when I notice how Lorenzo's cheeks have darkened with color.
I stare at him accusingly. "You promised!"
"Mi dispiace." My husband's tone is gruffly apologetic.
"At least tell me why." Because I've warned him already. Women already find him irresistible as it is, but the moment they realize and see for themselves that the supposedly terrifying Beast of New York is capable of blushing like this?
I look around in a panic, and it's exactly as I feared.
Most of the women around us are gobbling him up with his eyes, and I only feel even worse when I hear Sarica start to laugh.
"Am I getting this right?" the other girl asks. "You wanted to stop him from blushing because it makes you jealous?"
Journal Entry
Quando la nave affonda, i topi scappano.
When the ship sinks, the rats flee.
LORENZO SLIPPED AWAY as soon as dinner service started. He had already studied the hotel's blueprint in advance, and it was thus no problem to know which windows to climb in and out of until he made it all the way to the ballroom's crowning glory: a fiberglass dome that just happened to offer him the best vantage point to observe the party below.
Stealthily, of course.
And what he saw made him see black.
Control yourself, dammit.
Potenziana was right in assuming he had made it his business to know everything that took place in their world. To do anything less would be idiotic for one who had enemies left and right, and that went for both Lorenzo as well as his wife's famiglia.
The only difference was how obvious people were with their hatred.
With Lorenzo, people considered it acceptable to hate him. The public had been brainwashed into thinking he was a mass murderer while old-school mafia families openly despised him for being a traitor.
The Marchettis, however...
Those who used to fear and fawn over his wife's famiglia now kept their distance or treated them with outright contempt. They were acting as if the days of Boston's ruling family were already numbered, but that was only to be expected from the weak and cowardly.
Such individuals were never to be trusted. They were all too easily swayed. Sacrificed. And if necessary, they were also just as easily disposed of.
But rarely, Lorenzo thought broodingly, did such ranks produce masterminds capable of the kind of deceit and scheming required to make someone like Giancarlo Marchetti disappear.
Lorenzo's attention switched to the security detail he had working incognito. He took note of every point of entry and checked if the guard assigned to it was accounted for.
So far, so good.
The ballroom doors opened, and Lorenzo's gaze turned hooded.
Viktor Bianciardi.
His fists clenched as he watched the man head straight to his wife.
'Care to dance with an old friend?'
'Perhaps later,' Viktor heard Gazelle say apologetically.
'It's fine, bambina,' Potenziana assured her granddaughter. 'I'll tell your husband that I insisted you dance with Viktor. Lorenzo is no immature boy you have to worry about.'
His lips tightened as his wife gave in to La Strega's request.
To be fair to Gazelle, Lorenzo himself had told her she did not need to ask his permission for every little thing. And yet she had also been the one that it was only safe and pragmatic to do so, considering the circumstances they were still in.
So why then, dammit?
Why had she not waited to ask his permission to dance with Bianciardi?