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)
His phone was still ringing when he finally reached his office. Such persistence should be rewarded, and so Lorenzo answered the call.
"Ci hai messo un bel po' a rispondere." It took you long enough to respond.
The voice was instantly recognizable.
"What can I do for you, signora?"
The older woman laughed. The sound was as elegant as it was cold, and Lorenzo suddenly found himself recalling that Potenziana Marchetti was also known as La Strega. The words translated to 'the witch', and all things considered...
She was that, to have the balls to make a deal with the devil.
Or so everyone thought.
"You understand that now is not the time to waste on small talk," Potenziana remarked. "I like that."
A moment of silence followed, but Lorenzo was unbothered.
"Or maybe it's more than that. Perhaps you simply do not care to talk?"
It wasn't so much as not wanting to as not being used to having anyone to talk to, since a good chunk of his life had been spent in and out of solitary confinement.
But to explain this would require effort he didn't care to waste.
"Everyone seems to think you've completely disconnected yourself from the world. But I'm willing to bet you know exactly why I'm calling."
Lorenzo settled in the massive leather chair behind his desk. This would likely take up a bit of time, for Potenziana Marchetti to start with that.
"And that I'll be asking you to choose between one thing or the other after this call."
She was correct on both fronts, but since answering rhetorical questions was another unnecessary waste, Lorenzo didn't even bother saying a word this time.
"Have you nothing to say at all?"
"None."
The older woman harrumphed. "I was hoping you'd have changed by now. But you clearly haven't."
Not a question, Lorenzo observed, and so he held his silence.
"Well then, here is the gist of it. My granddaughter came to me yesterday. She's apparently been talking to Viktor Bianciardi. You know him?"
"Sì."
"And that's it?"
Lorenzo simply waited.
"Va bene, allora lasciami chiedere chiaramente." Fine, let me ask clearly then. "What exactly do you know of him?"
"What exactly are you asking?"
"Gazelle asked me to consider replacing you with Viktor," Potenziana said curtly.
"That is not a question."
"Oh, you..."
Lorenzo went back to waiting.
"Come mi metti alla prova così, giovane!" How you test me so, young man!
Lorenzo wasn't buying it. Her tone was of exasperation, not annoyance.
"I do not know if I wish to kill you or emulate you!"
Likely the latter, but since she was not asking, he did not bother answering.
"Do you do this to provoke me?" Potenziana demanded.
"No." To do so was to waste his time, and that the matriarch believed he could ever be guilty of such a thing showed how little she understood him.
"I thought you'd say that," the older woman grumbled, "and it is one of the few times that I am annoyed to be right."
A longer silence followed, enough to make him curious.
"You are very good at waiting, signore."
Her voice was taut this time, and this, too, made him curious.
"Did you learn it...back then?"
"Sì."
"I see."
Her voice had changed again. But this time, it was completely unreadable.
"I'd like to give you a choice. If you believe Viktor Bianciardi to be capable of protecting my granddaughter, consider yourself released from our agreement. But if you think otherwise, then you know what to do."
Journal Entry
Oh, what a sight it was to behold,
when their faces all lost color,
and their knees began to fold.
HE'S HERE. HE'S HERE. He's here.
Everyone's practically singing it.
But not just with their lips.
You can also see the words flash in their eyes like a voiceless scream and feel it sheathe people's skins like an unbreakable layer of ice despite the scorching heat of summer.
Oh yes, he's here, I can't help thinking.
But as for what to feel about this?
Tension in the air thickens as he comes closer and closer.
He's a boogeyman that scares other boogeymen and a monster that kills other monsters. He's a king who rules with neither an army nor a kingdom, his power rooted in the darkness of his past.
He is the Beast of New York.
But soon, everyone will also know him as my husband.
So help me, God.
Because his eyes have finally found me.
And I suddenly find myself struggling to breathe.
Out of fear or excitement, I'm not quite sure.
Maybe both.
This is what Viktor warned me about, I can't help thinking.
As much as I hate admitting it, his fear-mongering had made me doubt myself, and I did end up asking Nonna if I could marry Viktor instead.
It's not like I'm in love with my brother's best friend or anything, but...
Better the prince next door than a beast from the dungeons, you know?
Or at least I was hoping my grandmother would see it that way.
But she didn't.
And so here I am now, unable to decide whether I want to laugh or panic as Lorenzo Anghileri strides towards me, and the crowd immediately parts like the Nile River even without him saying a word.