Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
“I don’t date.”
“Then ask her to fuck.” Enzo blows smoke. “No woman’s turned you down before.” His smirk fades when I turn and he sees my expression. He raises his hands. “No offense.”
I turn back to the bakery. Today, Leah looks tired, but she’s pointed her megawatt smile towards a customer.
When it comes to Leah, I don’t want a date. I don’t want a fuck. I want so much more. “This isn’t about a fuck,” I say. “This is fate.”
Enzo rolls his eyes, but he’s smart enough not to say anything.
They don’t understand, mia zia said. But you do. That’s why I'm the chosen one.
“Your father won’t like it.”
I say nothing. My father’s likes and dislikes don’t matter to me. They haven't for a long time. If La Famiglia thinks they can control me through him, they’re in for a nasty surprise.
Enzo knows this. He tries again, making a show of looking around. “Stefanos has men close by. You know he knows you’re here. He’s watching.”
“So?”
“This is his territory. He’s playing nice, out of respect for your father. But soon, he’ll make a move…” Enzo’s words fade as I turn back to the bakery again. Leah’s forehead is pinched. I’m standing too far away for her to see. Does she know how long I’ve been watching her? Does she sense it?
It’s been a year of watching, waiting, setting up the dominos. Soon, it’ll be time to flick one over and let them all fall.
“Are you listening, Royal?” Enzo says. He’s my second in command, but he knows nothing of the plans I’ve made. No one does.
“No,” I reply. “But I heard you. Stefanos doesn’t like me hanging around.”
Enzo puffs his cigarette more rapidly. “He’ll make a move.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Then it’s time we make ours.”
“Seriously?” Enzo tosses the cigarette into the snow. I’m already striding away.
“Yes. Today,” I tell him. By tonight, I’ll have everything I want. My kingdom, my throne. But every king needs a queen.
This is the year you claim it all. Starting with her.
Leah
This morning is officially a dumpster fire. Nothing goes right. An oven breaks, a timer doesn’t go off and I burn a batch of lemon poppyseed muffins—and of course our best customers are all disappointed that their favorite is out of stock.
The morning rush is more frantic than usual but Mrs. Rossi is doing so poorly, Mr. Rossi has to stay upstairs to help her for half an hour at a time.
Then one of my former friends from high school walks in. I say former because Piper only hung around me because of my popular boyfriend. Until he dumped me.
“Oh, Leah, it’s you,” she says. Her backpack and sweatshirt are both branded with a Princeton logo. “I didn’t realize you still worked here.” She glances at the chalkboard menu. “I’ll have a grande Americano.”
Wrong bougie coffeeshop. I bite my tongue until it pinches to keep from snapping at her. After she pays, I dump regular coffee into a regular sized cup—we only have one size. Most Americans can’t tell a drip coffee from a watered-down espresso.
When I set Piper’s order in front of her, she glances up from her phone. “Are you still in touch with Josh?”
“No.”
“He’s at Empire University now, right?” She shifts her weight, straightening her Princeton backpack.
“I think so.” With his new girlfriend.
“K. See ya.” Piper takes the cup and trots off. I stomp to the back to take out my frustration on the dirty baking bowls soaking in the sink.
Mr. Rossi pops his head into the bakery. “Doing all right, Leah?”
I swallow a sharp response. It’s not Mr. Rossi’s fault he’s had to help his wife all morning and leave me with the morning rush. Nor is it his fault my ex-friend Piper dropped in and made me feel two inches tall.
“All good here.” I force my tone to be light.
“Sei un angelo.” The stress falls from Mr. Rossi’s voice. It takes a toll on him—his wife’s condition. There are dark circles under his eyes but he wears a tired smile. “I haven't forgotten you have class today. Cedella still needs me but I’ll be back down soon, okay?”
“Okay.” I mash my lips into something that’s more smile than frown.
“You making the pink cupcakes?”
“No,” I say warily. “Should I?”
“You always make them for Valentine’s Day.”
Right, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. The worst holiday ever invented by the American candy and greeting card industry. Last year, my boyfriend dumped me the day before, and stopped by on February fourteenth to pick up coffee for himself and his new girlfriend. “Pink cupcakes. Right. I’ll get started on those when I get back, okay?”
“Va bene,” Mr. Rossi says distractedly, and ducks out of the bakery again.
So much for making strazzate today. It’s not like Royal would be back anyway, even if I called him.