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)
(Because Giancarlo's still alive.)
"Hello."
Something flickers in Lorenzo's green eyes, but I'm still too busy trying to act normal to figure it out.
Alive, self. Your brother is still alive. So—-
"Hello, wife."
Stop thinking about Giancarlo for now because there's a bigger puzzle standing right in front of you!
I want to think I've imagined things, but what I see in my peripheral vision insists otherwise.
Everyone is in shock, which means they've heard the same thing.
Hello, WIFE.
That's what he said.
And with those two words, he's turned everyone's world upside down.
Wife.
Is that some kind of red herring to throw everyone off?
It's just so hard to tell, in the kind of world I live in, and with La Strega as a grandmother.
Am I really his wife?
Lorenzo offers his hand, and I don't hesitate to take it even though I still have no idea if he's spoken the truth or not.
What's the difference, anyway?
If I'm not really his wife now, I will be sooner or later, and oh!
His fingers have finally twined with mine, and I end up unexpectedly catching my breath. Is it normal to feel instantly and unbelievably hot, just because it's my first time to have my hand held by a man who isn't my flesh and blood?
And the way brute strength practically oozes from his grip—-
It should terrify me, shouldn't it?
But it doesn't.
Because there's one last thing about his grip that I notice.
And it's what makes me blink fast and hard.
Don't cry, you idiot.
Because no one would care why I'd be doing it.
The moment I shed a single tear in this crowd, I might as well as proclaim myself as the Marchettis' weakest link.
So don't you dare cry!
Because the truth is best kept a secret, anyway.
Some things, we don't care if the whole world knows.
But then there are other things...
Things like how Lorenzo is holding my hand so, so securely remind me of the times my oldest brother held my hand when we were young, and all we had were each other because everyone else wanted to kill us.
Like now.
(Where are you, Giancarlo?)
Those are the things the world doesn't deserve to know.
(I want my big brother back, God. Please!)
My heart suddenly feels like it's about to implode with pain.
If we knew for sure Giancarlo was dead, it would hurt us, but it wouldn't break us.
Death is just a doorway. My whole famiglia knows what's waiting on the other side, and it's where we want to go.
But this, though?
This is different.
(Because Giancarlo is alive!)
We just don't know where he is.
Or if there's something - or someone - that's keeping him from coming back, and it's all of these things that we don't know that threaten to kill us from within.
We all feel in our hearts he's alive, but everything else is a terrifying blank.
(Where are you, Giancarlo?)
My eyes are starting to sting so, so bad.
(Where are you?)
But just when I thought I'd end up breaking down—-
That's when I feel Lorenzo's hand squeezing mine.
(God, oh God.)
And it reminds me, oh, how it reminds me of all the other times my oldest brother did the same thing as well, every time he needed to remind me without words—-
You have me, Gaz. So don't be afraid. I'm here for you.
Only this time, it feels as if Giancarlo has sent Lorenzo in his stead.
Journal Entry
They shouldn't have anything in common.
Or at least that was how it seemed at first glance.
But the more time I spend with him, the more I realize...
The world couldn't be more wrong about him.
LORENZO WALKED OUT of the mausoleum, and she followed his lead without a single murmur of protest. It was almost unnerving, the way she was so quietly composed. All the rumors about the youngest Marchetti clearly couldn't be more wrong.
And yet...
He knew he had not imagined what he had seen earlier.
A flash of pain in her eyes right after she had said 'hello'.
A split-second glimpse of what she was really thinking.
That was all the time he had to see the truth, but it had been enough.
He had known right away that her heart was in agony, and he alone could keep it breaking.
He had seen she needed him, and instead of calculating his every move like he always did—-
Hello, wife.
He had done - said - something impulsive.
Dammit.
Silence - and not words - had always been his weapon of choice.
But the moment he saw she needed him—-
This girl whom he had not thought about even in the two years she was his for the taking—-
It was as if something else had seized control of his body.
His heart.
And even his fucking mind.
It was as if every part of him was suddenly convinced of one thing.
Whatever she needs...
He would do everything in his power to provide.
But why that was, he had no fucking idea.
Temporary insanity, perhaps?
Such an excuse might be plausible for some.
But not for him.