Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
"—-and I have a deal. I'll play by the rules when the occasion calls for it, but other than that, I can do whatever the hell I want."
"How surprisingly lenient."
My lips tighten. That's exactly what I think, too. The old woman hasn't made a single comment about anything I've done, and that says everything in my book.
"Life's good then." Maryse's words draw my attention back to her. "Right?"
"Yeah, sure."
"And yet you sound anything but." Maryse's gaze narrows. "Spit it out, Sarica. Are you having problems?"
"Did I say I was?"
"You may not have anything to say, but your school record certainly implies a lot of things."
"When I see people being bullied, am I not supposed to do anything?"
Maryse releases a soft sigh, but the sound still makes the other patrons around us jump in their seats.
Sheesh.
I'm pretty sure Maryse's sigh reminded them of how she used to make the exact same sound when she was still the Angel of Death, and how that sound typically leads to someone's execution and exile.
"I know this is going to sound rich coming from me, but it's also because of how my life used to be that I have every right to say—-"
"Violence isn't the answer?" I ask sarcastically.
Maryse didn't even crack a smile. "Pick your battles, Sarica."
Shit.
"And be sure to make each one count."
I will never ever admit this, but I see the former Angel of Death as the Mr. Miyagi to my Julie. I want to be like her when I grow up, but at the same time, I also hate how her words always hit me hard.
"I'm just sick of feeling like a brick around everyone's neck," I mutter under my breath.
"That's how you feel, but is it warranted? Has anyone said or done anything to justify—-"
"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm being cross-examined?" I ask testily.
"If you were being cross-examined, you've just established your own guilt by refusing to answer a simple question with 'yes' or 'no'."
My mouth opens and closes.
Shit.
I think I just got served, and I hate it.
Maryse shakes her head at me. "You shouldn't make any assumptions—-"
"Oh, come off it! You've seen the difference yourself. Everything I've done should've pissed the old witch off, but she hasn't said a single word. None of them has said a single word, and you know why that is."
"Sarica..."
There's something about her tone that triggers inside of me, and I'm no longer able to resist unburdening myself.
"Don't pretend you don't know what's happening here," I grit out. "They don't give a shit about what I do because they don't see me as part of their famiglia."
The words are finally out, but instead of being cathartic, they just make me feel more worthless than I already do.
Why, God? Why?
Is there really no fucking person in this fucked-up world who wants me?
Am I really no good to anyone?
"I get why you'd think that," Maryse begins, "but if none of them has explicitly said anything—-"
A humorless laugh slips my lips. "Have you forgotten who we're talking about here? They're the fucking Marchettis. The Kennedys of the fucking mafia. They're obviously too nice to admit they've made a mistake about me—-"
"Stop it with the self-pity."
It's that tone again, and like always, it shuts me up like nothing else does.
"Let's just say you're right, and they do think they've made a mistake about you."
I know we're just playing what-if, but hearing the words out loud still hurts like hell.
"Let's just say they do think you're a burden. So what then?" Maryse challenges. "Are you simply going to drown yourself in self-pity?"
I can't help bristling at her tone. "Of course not! I already told Giancarlo before that I'll never marry him—-"
It's Maryse's turn to cut me off with a laugh.
"Then you don't know them as well as you think you do. Once a Marchetti gives their word, it's good as done. You can try running away as many times as you want, but Giancarlo will always come after you. The only way you can escape marrying him is death. But if you don't plan to kill yourself anytime soon—-then let me ask you again. Let's say everything you said is true, and they all see you as a burden. What then?"
Maryse settles back against her seat as her question hangs between us.
"It's up to you, don't you think? Will you prove them right or wrong? Will you remain a burden? Or will you find a way to turn yourself into an invaluable asset to the Marchettis?"
Leniency
OH FUCK, I'VE BEEN set up.
One look at the dining room, and I know right away it's no coincidence it's only Massimo seated on one side of the table and Giancarlo on the other.
Shit.
The Marchetti matriarch is practically fanatical when it comes to being punctual for mealtimes, and so is Cesare. That neither of them is present means shit is definitely about to hit the fan, but before I can take a step back and make my retreat—-