Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Elian was already hard at work, cleaning up the mess from the party the night before.
“Do you ever sleep?” I asked, shaking my head at him as he broke down the last of the pile of pizza boxes.
“Good morning, Mrs. Lombardi,” he said, giving me a ghost of a smile. “I cut out early last night to catch some sleep,” he said as he turned away. He turned back a second later, something wrapped in foil in his hand.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sensing something off in his expression.
“You didn’t want this?” he asked.
“What is it?”
“Your dinner,” he said.
“Oh,” I said, the clawing feeling in my stomach making me well aware that I hadn’t eaten. “I, ah, I didn’t come down,” I admitted.
“Why not?”
“I… I didn’t feel… invited,” I admitted, the confession making me feel exposed.
But Elian’s head just tipped to the side, watching me with scrunched brows. “This is your home,” he said. “You don’t need to be invited.”
I couldn’t say what I was feeling.
That this didn’t feel like my house.
Because, well, Elian was right.
This was my home now.
Maybe what I needed to do was act like that.
“Do you think everyone will be coming over again tonight?” I asked.
“Judging by the order for booze I had to place today, yeah.”
To that, I nodded, my mind reeling, trying to talk myself into it, to imagine it.
Walking down the steps.
Making an entrance.
Acting like I belonged.
Maybe if I faked it hard enough, it would start to feel true.
I made my way to the coffee pot, preparing another awful black cup I would need to choke down, making a mental note to pick up some cream and sugar when I went out.
And I did have to go out.
Because if I was going to act the part of a mafia boss’s wife, I had to look the part. No more leggings and roomy sweatshirts. I had to wear something more mature to this party.
“Thank you for ordering that for me,” I said to Elian, watching him turn.
“How’d you know it was me?” he asked.
“Because my husband wouldn’t have thought to,” I told him honestly.
To that, Elian winced, but he didn’t contradict me.
“You gotta remember to eat,” he said.
There were a lot of things I needed to start doing if I wanted this to work. And it had to. Because there was no changing my fate now.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You don’t need to order me breakfast today, though. I’ll pick something up when I go out.”
With that, I took my awful coffee upstairs with me while I got myself dressed. By the time I walked out of the apartment building, I felt like I was walking a little taller as I grabbed a good coffee and a muffin, then went in search of something that would be appropriate for the party.
From what I’d seen when I’d peeked out, the parties were casual. Even the women gathered around were usually in jeans. But their looks had a harder edge to them. Tight, black pants, tees, and leather jackets. Everything in black.
Dipping into a store that seemed to have items to fit that edgy style, I picked out a pair of tight black jeans.
“What are you trying to project?” the saleswoman asked, sensing my rising panic as I blanked at what to buy after picking out the pants.
“I want to look put together. But not like I’m trying to,” I told her. Then was quick to add, “And that I’m not scared.”
If she thought there was anything weird about that, she didn’t show it as she helped me pick out a warm black sweater that was cropped and would reveal a little sliver of belly skin when I put it on.
“It’s a power move to show a little skin,” she insisted. “Without making it look like you’re showing skin,” she added, taking the shirt with us to the counter to check out.
Armed with my new outfit, I made my way back home, finding Elian gone. The guard at the door was one I’d never seen before, and he barely gave me a glance before standing to plug the code into the door.
This time, I paid attention, realizing that was something I might want to know.
The guard didn’t greet me, and I swore I could feel annoyance oozing off of him as I moved past.
I shook that off, though, as I walked into the clean apartment. Someone had even been in to strip and re-make the bed.
I wondered if it had all been Elian. Or if there was some sort of designated mafia cleaning person as I set up my new outfit, then laid out my makeup on the sink counter before taking a long ‘everything’ shower, wanting to wash away any feelings of uncertainty and insecurity.
I’d just finished drying my hair when I heard Renzo come home, talking to someone else. Maybe that hostile guard.