Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
We survived.
I’m the last remaining Rossi left to solidify our family’s stronghold, and I knew, though I denied it sometimes, I wouldn’t shirk my duty.
And I knew the day would come when my brothers would marry me off. It seems I knew even when I was a child that unconditional love was not in the cards for someone like me. I would only be loved if I met certain expectations, followed certain rules, and ultimately denied who I was above all.
So I came to our marriage knowing full well I had a role to play, no more, no less. I never actually expected he’d ever overcome his need for control and power because those were the conditions. I told myself I could accept it all as part of our dynamic. I’m a mob princess, after all. I know how it all works.
But I’ve seen glimmers of more. I’ve felt the hint of authenticity when he touches me, when he holds me. When we make love.
I don’t know what this is yet, but I do know I’m not just checking off a box for him. There’s a depth to our relationship that transcends just filling roles.
Before he leaves me to dress in the silvery-white floral dress, the feminine little number that cinches at the waist and flares dramatically halfway to my calves, he kisses me. It’s not just any ordinary kiss. Someday, after years have passed and we’ve children between us, when we’ve kissed each other so many times we’ve lost count, he may learn how to give me a parting kiss on the cheek.
Suffice it to say, he hasn’t learned that yet.
I stare into the mirror, breathless and pink-cheeked, my lips swollen and my pulse racing. Damn, Salvatore Capo knows how to kiss.
A gentle knock at the door tells me my staff has arrived to help me dress. At home, I didn’t have staff to tend to me like this. I could have if I’d wanted to, but I never wanted someone to help me do the things I felt perfectly capable of. Here, I allow it, because I don’t want to accidentally misstep, and it helps to have someone who essentially functions as a personal stylist. One might say it takes the guesswork out of things.
I glance at the time as Clarice, a twenty-something college grad with glasses on the tip of her nose and a wide grin, slides into the room.
“Oooh, I love that one. I love that dress,” she squeals, clapping her hands. “It’s so gorgeous!”
“I hope I don’t spill marinara on it,” I say with a frown. “Oh! That reminds me!” I glance at the time. “Can you get me ready in fifteen minutes?”
I need time to make sure I can oversee the food as he instructed before my family comes.
Clarice cringes. “If you’ve already washed your hair…”
“This morning!”
“Okay, alright, let’s get a move on, lady.” She claps her hands, and I half expect little mice with scissors and a bobbin of thread to come running in. “Let’s get this done!”
Fifteen minutes later on the nose, I stand, sheathed in the nearly sheer fabric, my hair pinned up in an elegant up-do, impeccable makeup from mascara to highlighters to a lip stain she swears won’t wear off when I drink, and death-defying stilettos Salvatore bought me as a gift when we left the island. Even in these, he’s got half a head on me, but it does make me feel more powerful standing tall.
“You look amazing,” Clarice says. “Stunning! Your husband will want to marry you all over again!”
I give her a quick hug to thank her, then glance at the time, grab my phone, and head to the kitchen. “Thank you!”
I listen for the sounds of Salvatore or his mother nearby, but I hear nothing. Now that we’ve been married for a little while, Salvatore’s more comfortable leaving me on my own when he tends to business. As far as his mother, I just don’t trust her. And after what he’s told me about her… suffice it to say, it would be amazing if he managed to exile her out of the country when we have any children, because that woman is not coming within ten feet of her grandkids if I can help it.
I’m almost at the kitchen when I hear the low murmur of voices. One rises and one falls. I turn the corner to find Cristiano and Agnesia having a heated, whispered conversation. Cristiano gives me a lewd once-over.
“You look fabulous,” he says. His compliment feels oily and slick.
I allow my voice to go cold and detached. “Thank you.”
Agnesia walks away without a word.
Salvatore needs to ban these two and never let them near him again. One of them will betray him, if not both, and soon. They probably already have. While he doesn’t trust them, he’s led me to believe their relationships are complicated. How complicated are they?