Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I don’t see them at first, but finally note the little brown package.
They are right there in his pocket. Dammit. I need those. I'll get them.
I sit as quiet as a church mouse watching him, not giving him one chance to catch me doing anything I shouldn't. Not giving him any excuse for going all commanding on me again.
When he stands the matches fall out of his pocket onto the floor. The sound is almost noiseless, eaten up by the crackling of the stoked fire. I stare at the matches, memorizing where they are. He walks toward me.
"Clear the dishes. Put them in the sink. It's a lot of work washing dishes in the wilderness, so we’ll pile them up until we need to wash them."
I do what he says without a word, taking the dishes and stacking them in a little sink. I wonder what the whole production is to wash dishes if there's no hot water. I guess we'll have to… boil water or something? It doesn't really matter that doing anything will take ten times as long as it would if we were in a modern place, because what else will we do with our time anyway?
He's sitting in a rocker by the fire when I'm done.
"It's hard to imagine people do this for fun," I say to him honestly. "What's the appeal?"
He shrugs. “Some people like being away from modern conveniences. They find them distracting. Some people find it cathartic being in the woods, with the earthy smells and stars overhead. There are lots of reasons people like to unplug.”
"I get it, but at the same time, is it really worth having to wipe your ass with leaves? To wonder if a bear is going to come into your cabin? To have to boil water to wash your dishes? I mean, can't you just, like, go sit out in your backyard and leave your cell phone inside?"
The corner of his lips quirks up. "You could. But that would probably get you punished, wouldn't it?"
I look away, unwilling to face the truth. Yes, some people could disconnect and go sit in their backyards, but if I did it, I'd be fucked. Maybe there is a certain advantage to being alone in the woods.
"Tell me about your brothers," he says, leaning back in his chair with a cup of water. He takes a sip every now and then as I tell him everything I know. The eldest, Nicolo, died a few years ago, right around the time Orlando was imprisoned and Dario met him.
Ricco is the only one married with a child, and he’s close to my Aunt Tosca. Timeo’s done well for himself with investments, the most book-learned among my brothers. Sergio is a fair but hard-ass Don.
I shrug. “I don't really know them that well, we've never lived together for a long period of time."
He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "It feels as if that was intentional. Like your father didn't want your brothers to get close to you.”
“Yeah. I wondered why he did that. I wondered if it was a ‘divide and conquer’ kinda thing. I noticed it was… different with the Rossis.”
“Very much so. The brothers and sisters are all very close, and if it came to a choice between his father or his sisters, Romeo has and would choose his sisters, every time. But that isn't the case with your brothers. Keeping you separated from your brothers, your father insured their allegiance to him.”
Though he’s contemplative, there’s a certain heat to his words, a possession to his touch that unnerves me when he touches me.
I can't let myself think of him as anything more than my warden. But it's hard for me to think that way when I witnessed the way he's touched me, his responses to me, the way he commands. I’m not immune, no matter how hard I try.
When he commands my body responds like a tuning fork, vibrating and humming. And there's a small part of me, which I can’t deny, that wants to feel so much more.
I yawn, exhausted, but don’t want to go to bed yet. This day has felt like a week in and of itself. He feels the same it seems, as he sits in the rocking chair in front of the flames.
I look around at the limited seating arrangements near us. There's a love seat, but there's no way in hell I'm gonna sit there because if he decides he's going to join me we’ll have to get all cozy. Nope. There's a little stool, but that wouldn't be comfortable for very long without back support, and it's so far away from the fire I wouldn't feel the warmth.
I feel his eyes on me. Cautiously, I look toward him, my heartbeat racing. Dario looks at me with a predatory gaze that makes the little hairs on my arms stand up. He looks at me as if he wants to devour me… It would be a lie to say I don't like that.