Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I keep thinking about Jeanie.
What the hell was that girl doing in Malcolm’s office? Following her to that bar and offering her a job didn’t tell me a damn thing—only that she’s stubborn, hated Malcolm more than I do, and might be self-destructive.
Beyond that, who the hell is she working for? What’s her damn game?
I don’t know why I saved her. There was some self-preservation going on there—without her around, Malcolm would’ve caught me in his office too. Kissing her and using her body like that was a nice excuse. Sometimes, my playboy reputation has a way of saving my ass.
People expect certain things from me. Gavino Bruno gets around. Gavino Bruno has a good sense of humor. Gavino Bruno kills without mercy and never sleeps in the same woman’s bed twice.
Those expectations can be advantageous, especially when I use them to blind people to what I really am.
In that case, Malcolm saw only the rich playboy mafia asshole, and not the enemy in his private sanctum.
Still, I’m fascinated by the girl, and not just because I liked the way she kissed and the feel of her pussy under my hand or the way she moaned into my mouth like she wanted me to keep going. I want to know why she’d risk herself like that, and I think we can work together.
Because Malcolm Strafford is bad for this city, whether my brother wants to admit it or not.
Speaking of which. I spot Casso coming through me, trudging down the path that connects our two homes. He’s got his head bowed against the sun and looks annoyed and coated in sweat already. I wait for him to reach the porch and he collapses onto a chair, sighing and fanning himself.
“You know you could just live in the damn main house, right?” He glares at me, eyes squinted.
“I’m aware. You’ve been saying it for years.”
He sighs and leans his head back. “When I agreed to build this place for you, I didn’t think it’d be such a pain in the ass.”
“Phoenix is hot, so what? It’s not even a five-minute walk over here. You’re too used to sitting in that office of yours and giving orders.”
Casso rolls his eyes, but he knows it’s true. He’s a big man and still in good shape—he works out relentlessly, him and Olivia both—but he doesn’t spend much time on the streets anymore. He’s the Don of the Bruno Famiglia, the oldest brother, and the responsibility of the family rests squarely on his shoulders. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t put himself out in the muck and the shit and risk his own life when he’s got dozens of employees and killers and soldiers to do that for him.
And yet I remember a time when Casso led from behind the barrel of a gun, not behind a desk.
“I didn’t come over here to be called soft by you again,” he says, tugging on his shirt to cool himself off. “I wanted an update on the Strafford deal.”
“You know Malcolm. He’s a piece of shit like always.”
“A piece of shit with money and connections in the real estate world. Stop, save it, I know your feelings. If we’re going to start making real waves in this world, we can’t keep focusing on small-time gangster shit anymore. It’s time the Brunos played in the big leagues.”
I grind my teeth and stay silent. I try to calm myself by drinking coffee, but it doesn’t help. The fucker doesn’t get it—when he talks shit about our family’s current business model, it’s like spitting in my eye.
He and Fynn and Karah all got married. They have spouses, and children, and their lives are vastly different from my own. I don’t have any of that. I’m alone out here and always have been.
And I’m the one still running with the crews. I’m the one getting my hands dirty. I’m the fixer, the killer, the shark. They’re still hard, I’ll give them that, my brothers and my sister, but they’ve spent more time in the big house than they have playing the game.
Some days I wonder if it would’ve been better settling down. But then I think of Sonia’s screams ten years back and I decide that no, fuck that, the only safe thing is to keep my body sharp and my wits about me. Death and danger are everywhere, even in the Villa Bruno.
“I sent the papers to your office last night. I assume you saw them this morning.”
Casso nods. “But I wanted your impression anyway, your distaste for Malcolm aside.”
“It’s a good deal,” I admit, despite not wanting to. “Phoenix’s downtown is woefully underdeveloped. We can put in a couple office buildings with Malcolm’s help and start turning this city around.”
“And you think Malcolm’s sincere about making it happen?”
“As sincere as that man ever is.”